Suchergebnisse

Issue 53.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1994. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ Fax: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ¯ V~rashington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1994 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. MI 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 Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1994 ¯ VOLUME53 ¯ NUMBER5 contents living gospel values 646 Inculturation 658 Timothy Radcliffe OP faces us with the challenge of inculturating the gospel not only in countries aod cultures not our own hut also in our local home situation. Second-Stage Inculturation: Six Principles of the American Mind J.J. Mueller SJ presents the tensions caused for Americans formed by principles embedded in their culture and the ways of thinking and acting which are a part of the Vatican culture. leadership and authority 675 The Challenge of Priestly Leadership J. Peter Sartain reflects on the ministry of leadership entrusted to priests which is at the heart of their call to holiness. 694 Election: A Call to Service Catherine M. Harmer MMS considers the ele'ments involved in an election process in religious congregations for selecting leadership. 703 Authority: An Imitative Charisln A. Paul Dominic SJ examines the authority exercised by Jesus in order to understand the kind of authority we in the church should imitate. continuing formation 711 A Tale of Two Synods: Laity and Clergy Formation Robert L Kinast examines the formation of laity and clergy proposed in recent synods and suggests ways of furthering the relational process between them. 724 Religious Formation and Ecumenical Formation Ernest R. Falardeau SSS reports on the National Ecumenical Consultation for men and women religious which met in April 1994 at Narragansett, Rhode Island. 642 Review for Religious 728 744 751 prayer and growth Contemplative Prayer among Apostolic Religious Women Jeanne Knoerle SP assesses the contemplative attitude in the tradition of apostolic religious women. Shame, Mystical Writers, and a Spirituality of Self James J. Magee DSW clarifies the restorative influence that the Christian mystical tradition can provide for shame-bound religious. The Ought of the Ignatian Quest John P. Mossi SJ examines.the life experience of Ignatius Loyola as a paradigm for searching out God's will for our individual lives. 761 768 774 faith experience Reflection on the Solitary Life Theresa Mancuso explores the richness of the solitary life as living in the hollow of God's hand. My Faith Journey M. Gemma Victorino PI)DM recalls a most important moment of a parent's death for the deepening of a vocational commitment. A Rock to Build On Vincent Hovley SJ challenges us to enter more dynamically into a Eucharistic way of living. departments 644 Prisms 781 Canonical Counsel: The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life 787 Book Reviews Septentber-October 1994 643 prisms One of my favorite sayings is that the church is as healthy as religious life is healthy. I believe that is true. Of course, we may also say that the church is as healthy as the laity are healthy, or as healthy as the bish-ops, priests, and deacons are healthy. St. Paul was the first to reflect about the church in terms of a healthy body. "The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I do not need you,' any more than the head can say to the feet, 'I do not need you'" (1 Cor 12:21). He says directly, "If one member suf-fers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is hon-ored, all the members share its joy" (1 Cor 12:26). Although Vatican Council II took a major step for-ward in our theological understanding of ourselves as church in its Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen gentium), it seems that we now stand poised for further theological development. Perhaps the synod on consecrated life will provide an occasion to explore more adequately the interrelationships of the hierarchical and charismatic elements integral to the church. The synod may at least be a stimulus for raising questions about the centrality of holiness and the role of a significant group of members, identified by a form of Christian life called con-secrated, in the healthy life of the church. Such church members, commonly grouped under the term religious life, are identified as keepers of the spiritual heritages of the Body of Christ. Holiness is God's gift to all members of Christ's Body, but in God's providence it is meant to shine through the Body more brightly because of God's action in calling forth religious life. Religious life is not created or manufactured by human ingenuity; it is not modeled on a guru tradition of pre-Christian reli- 644 Review for Religious gions. It is not legislated into existence by a bishop's decree. Just as God in Jesus and in the Spirit bestows upon the church various hierarchic and charismatic gifts, so the same Lord gifts the church with certain members, both women and men, called and con-firmed in their following of Jesus through evangelical counsels. As with any gift, the church can only receive gratefully--and then care for and make use of--God's graciousness. The synod serves as an example of members of the hierarchy exercising their proper care and reverence for God's gift present in other members. For its part, then, religious life does bear a heightened respon-sibility for the healthiness of the church--not in terms of mis-sionary activity, not in terms of educational or social services, not in terms of leadership, but primarily and expressly in terms of spirituality, a life of holiness. Although "I want to be holy" sounds too simple to explain the myriad forms of the religious follow-ing of Christ through the ages, it is the grounding of the response to the gospel imperative "go, sell, come, follow." Evangelical counsels can too quickly come to be defined by a threefold identity of poverty, chastity, and obedience. The monas-tic beginnings of religious life clearly indicate that the imitation of Christ by evangelical counsels is far broader and deeper. The Spirit continues to raise up religious groups marked by the total dedication of evangelical counsels. But such a consecration takes shape, as it did in the first monastic groups, through various expressions consonant with a specific gospel inspiration, but dif-ferent from the venerable though limited way of the three vows of medieval spirituality. Healthy holiness in our day may find the church recognizing many forms of religious life not by the three traditional vows, but still by ~h.e norm of evangelical counsels in imitation of Jesus. Religious life has often been described as a troublesome or meddlesome element in the church. Yes, the head or hand of the Body might wonder whether life would be easier without this member. But one cannot dictate the kind of gift one receives; one cannot control the Giver. If the holiness of God in Christ today seeks to shine thoughout the Body in ever new prismatic ways through the gift of women .and men religious, people should respond not by complaint, but by asking in gratitude for more of such a gift. For we as a church strive to be healthy by becoming ever more God's holy people. David L. Fleming SJ September-October 1994 645 TIMOTHY RADCLIFFE Inculturation living gospel values It is a great pleasure for me to have been here these last few days, listening to this debate on Inculturation in Religious Life and Formation. I want to share a few very si~nple reflections on the throne but with great hesitation, since I am becoming one of the least inculturated people I know. I move so rapidly from one country to another that I have to look out of the window when I get up to remember where I am: "There are coconut trees, and so it cannot be London." In fact when I was in Chicago, one person thought from my accent that I was Irish and another that I was Australian. Here one of my own broth-ers has the idea that I am American. I am starting to get worried! Secondly, I have no expertise in this area. At the General Chapter of Mexico we talked much about incul-turation and acculturation and deculturation and inter-culturation. At the end I swore to myself that I would never again say anything about such matters. But the first lesson I have learned as Master of the Order is that of obedience, and so here goes. The last time that I was in England I had lunch with an aunt, and she asked me what I thought of Hans Kfing. Timothy Radcliffe OP serves as Master General of the Order of Preachers. He delivered this address to the Second Joint Conference of Dominican major superiors and formators at Nagpur, India, on 21 October 1993. It was published in Dominican Ashram 12, no. 4 (December 1993): 149-159. Father Radcliffe may be addressed at Convento Santa Sabina; Piazza Pietro d'Illiria, Aventino; 00153 Rome, Italy. 646 Review for Religious So I started to explain what I thought were his strengths and weaknesses. After five minutes she stopped me and said: "My dear, all I want to know is this: Is he good or is he ba'd?" And let's face it, in most theological debate that is what people wish to know! And if my aunt were here today, I would say to her: Yes, incul-turation is a good thing. In fact, there can be no good theology which is not inculturated. One problem in the church is that peo-ple often think that whereas one might find inculturated theology in India or Africa, where they live, whether it is Rome or Munich, no such contextualization is necessary. But I would like to add three points: 1. The Gospel should both embrace and transform any cul-ture in which it is planted. 2. No culture is pure and static. Every culture is in a con-stant process of evolution, creating new meaning; other-wise it is dead. The Gospel should meet a culture where it is most creative and fresh, like a bee seeking out the nectar of the flower. 3. Inculturation is always painful, like any process of com-ing to birth. And we can only engage in it if we are pre-pared to experiment and sometimes fail. This requires great mutual trust. There are many other things that I would like to add, such as the need for prayer and for study if inculturation is to have depth, but those comments will have to wait for another time. The Gospel Both Embraces and Criticizes Any Culture It Encounters As Father Thomas Aykara CMI said, the fundamental event of inculturation is the Incarnation. God, the source of all, becomes a squealing, crying, Jewish baby who needed to have his nappies changed and who had to learn to walk and speak like any other child. Often people fear that inculturation might fragment the universal church and divide us from each other, and yet the one in whom we are united, the one who overthrows the boundaries of division, is this first-century Jewish man. You cannot get more inculturated than that. At the same time one must say that Jesus was one who threatened Jewish identity, who challenged the Law and who welcomed the Samaritan'. He was utterly Jewish, and yet he was perceived as a threat to Sep~mber-O~ober1994 647 Radcliffe ¯ Inculturation A culture is not only defined by whom it excludes, but by what it shuts out, by its perceptions of reality, its underlying philosophy. Jewish identity. And this must surely always be so in .every moment of incuituration. Every culture builds a home in which the Gospel may be welcomed. But every home excludes a stranger who must be welcomed and whose presence is perceived as threatening. Every culture has its Harijans [outcasts]. A culture is not only defined by whom it excludes, but by what it shuts out, by its perceptions of reality, its underlying phi-losophy. These too are challenged by the Gospel. We can see the same process at work when Christianity embraces the Roman world. We adopt the language of the Romans and speak Latin; we still build our church on the basis of their halls, even here at Nagpur; the priest wears a distant descendant of Roman clothes; we accepted much of the vision of Roman law. And yet Christianity reached out beyond the boundaries of the Empire to e~nbrace the stranger, for example, the Irish! The foreigner is made at home. Every culture is both wel-comed and transformed. The Spirit is dike yeast which transforms what it meets. In France grapes become wine; in England hops become the loveliest beer; in Scotland grain becomes whiskey; in Japan rice beco~nes saki. And this reflects that founding act of Christ who performed that utterly Jewish act of celebrating the Passover, the feast of the home, and yet used it to found a com-munity in which everyone had a place: the betrayer like Judas, the denier like Peter, and all the disciples who would run away and leave their savior alone. It is the home in which anyone can belong. During my travels around the Order this first year I have seen how in every continent, inculturation poses this same question: Who is the stranger whom we must welcome? In Africa, for exam-ple, where tribal identity is strong, and where the Order is per-ceived as a tribe, the challenge is to make at home the members of another tribe, to be a tribe beyond tribalism. I went to Rwanda which has been deeply divided by conflicts between two tribes. 648 Review for Religious Here our Vicariate of Rwanda and Burundi is a sign of the Gospel, for members of both tribes live together as brothers. This is an incarnation of the Gospel, in which our identity as human beings is prized, open, stretched and transformed. When I went to Zaire in February it was in a state of near civil war between tribal groups. You could see how the church was trying to enter the extraordinary richness of that culture and be truly Zairean. The liturgy was wonderfully African, alive and beautiful. But we also had to challenge the tribal identities and invite people to find themselves in Christ. In Guatemala, the strangers are perhaps above all the indige-nous people living in the mountains. Here we have a wonderful experiment of inculturation in which the Dominican sisters and the brothers are cooperating. At Coban in the mountains of Alta Vera Paz, the sisters are accepting many indigenous vocations and seeking to evolve a way of being a Dominican that respects their customs, their lovely songs, their ways of dressing and being human. The brethren have built a study center nearby, which is in contact with the brethren working in the indigenous villages, collecting information about their rituals and customs, so that we can find a way of evolving an indigenous way of being Dominican for both the men and the women. The stranger is made welcome. But what is the challenge that we must put to them? A priest who worked with the Masai in Kenya wished to have a truly inculturated Eucharist, and so he tried to make it as African as possible. When he turned up to preside he found that gath-ered around the table were only the men. The women were not to be seen. So he asked: "Where are the women?" And the men replied: "It is not our custom to eat with the women." Is that inculturation or a betrayal of the Gospel? No prizes for the cor-rect answer! In the discussion group in which I have participated at this conference we found similar questions posed in the context of Asia. On the one hand, we saw that there was' much to learn from the Indian understanding of the gztrlt, the master. We were reminded that becoming a master demanded real asceticism, real renunciation, a real poverty and simplicity of life. [I was not, I might say, taking all of this personally.] Do we, who are regarded as gurus, really make that deep apprenticeship of silence and asceti-cism? Do the religious of Hinduism and Buddhism put us to shame? VVhere might one find Dominic in India if he walked the Septe~ttber-O~ober 1994 649 Radcliffe * Inculturation roads today? Would we meet him walking the roads with a beg-ging bowl, like a Jain holy man? Does not this culture challenge us to rediscover our own ascetic and mendicant tradition? Yet at the same time we foun'd that we wished to challenge some aspects of the Asian understanding of the guru. We do not expect the dis-ciple to submit to the master in blind obedience. As the provin-cial of the Philippines said: "The master must teach the disciple to learn to learn, to learn creativity, originality. If he stands on the master's shoulders it is to see farther." I think that Western culture poses particular problems with regard to.inculturation. You do not find theologians demanding that we be inculturated and adopt the norms of our society; yet that is often what is happening. I think that this is partially because it has become not just one culture among the cultures of the world. Since the fall of communism, it has become the one global culture which threatens to suck in and absorb all others in its vast stomach. Western consumerist capitalism is the culture which simultaneously embraces nearly everyone and excludes the vast majority. It touches most of humanity and shuts it out from its promised land. It sells everyone a TV so that they may see par-adise and then forbids them to enter. For me a symbol of this was a visit to Soweto a couple of years ago. I wandered about this sad and exuberant place, this great township of some two million African people, which was not until recently even marked on South African maps. I came across a school and ambled in. The children ran to me shouting what I thought was some obscure African word, "ninja." It turned out to refer to some strange turtles that are the heroes of the then latest TV series in the United States. They had cups and T shirts and even shoes covered with pictures of these ninja turtles. These children were offered the culture of American TV and told they could never belong. I think also of the endless queues of people waiting in Moscow to buy a McDonald's hamburger, a week's wages for this "holy wafer" of Western culture. Do'we Dominicans wish to be radically inculturated into this culture? Will this add new riches to our religious life? This is a culture of wealth, not just of wealthy people but of the glory of money. Perhaps more radically than in any other society, the poor cannot properly belong, since they are by definition those who have failed. Their fate is invisibility. Of course, I do not for one moment deny the wonderful things that this culture has produced 650 Review for Religious and its real inventiveness, its tolerance for human difference, its love of human rights, and so on. But I would still suggest that we religious must resist inculturation here and be with those who do not belong. But do we? This is a question I put to the superiors of the Dominican Leadership Conference in the United States last week. Even the language we use suggests we are sucked into an alien view of the world. The Prior Provincial becomes part of "the Administration," a sort of chief executive; the brethren become personnel, and instead of a love of poverty we have end-less discussions of budgets. Maybe the vows of our religious life are in such radical contradiction with the values of the consumerist West that we can thrive as religious only if we opt out, become out-culturated! Chastity seems puerile, poverty absurd, and obe-dience infantile. I also think that it is interesting that this matter of poverty illustrates the ambiguity of the relationship of the Gospel and culture. In India there is precisely a religiou~ tradition which respects poverty and which invites us to embrace it; in the West there is a culture of wealth which we are invited to refuse. Inculturation is then both an embrace and a challenge. And it must be so for the identity to which we are called as Christians is beyond our naming. Who we are is a mystery hidden in God. For, as St. John says: "My children, we know that we are God's children now, but we do not know what we are to be. We know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him" (1 Jn 3:2). Inculturation and Creativity I was fascinated by the argument between professors Pawar and Mataji the first evening. As a good Dominican, I love an argu-ment. It was wonderful to hear someone challenge our assumption that inculturation was a good thing. We seemed to be faced with a dilemma: to inculturate and risk assimilation or to stick to our own traditions and culture and go on being foreigners. Do you do what the Buddhists do or follow the Roman rubrics? What a sticky spot to be in! It is my own view that this is a false dilemma, for it only faces us if we make the mistake of thinking of culture as something frozen, stuck, immobile, like a pure white ice cream in a cultural deep freeze. Here you have some set and eternal thing which is Indian culture, whose practices you either adopt or remain a foreigner. Septentber-October 1994 651 Radcliffe ¯ Inculturation Perhaps the magic of Indian culture for me is precisely its complexity and fluidity, forever old and new. This is symbolized by what I have heard from the window of my room. In the evening I heard the sound of the music of some Hindu festivals; maybe it was for the festival of the goddess. Mixed with the beat of the drums was the rhythm of one of those endless trains on that net-work of railway lines holding the subcontinent together. In the early hours I have heard another train, whose hooter strangely resonated with the early morning call to prayer of the mosque, perhaps played on a tape recorder. Every culture is alive in a con-stant state of transformation, of meeting other cultures and absorbing or rejecting them, of remembering old ways and invent-ing new ones. Any culture which is worthy of the name is complex and fertile. Think of Jewish culture. The whole history of that culture is one of interaction, of the absorption and rejection and transfor-mation of ideas from Egypt, Canaan, Babylon, Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Rome. There never was a pure Jewish culture which you could pop into the deep freeze, any more than there is a pure English or Indian or Japanese culture. If there were, they would be brain dead. They bubble away like Irish stews, constantly evolving. How does the incarnation, that epitome of inculturation, take place? It is through the most acutely creative moment of human life, in the conception of a child. God pitches his tent among us by meeting us in our most deeply creative moment. God becomes one of us at the moment that we make something new, present in the fertility of a woman. And it is always so in any true moment of inculturation, for a culture is most alive, most itself, where it is most creative, just as a tree is most alive at the tips of its branches. The challenge of inculturation is to be there, sharing in its inventiveness, sharing its exploration. The choice is not to adopt a given Buddhist or Hindu ceremony or carry on with a Roman one: "Do we say the rosary or sing a mantra?" We enter it as it makes things new, for then something may be born which is utterly Indian and utterly Christian. The most wonderful example of that was given to us in the Indian dance of the life of Jesus that we saw the other night. I think that this was more than a synthesis of the Indian and the Christian. It was mating which brought to birth a child which was completely of both its parents. What it meant to be Indian was extended and deepened in that dance, and what it meant to be 652 Review for Relig4ous Christian was expanded. Such moments make us more Catholic. When I saw those wonderful finger movements I understand what it might mean to celebrate that the "finger of God is upon us." Never have l seen the mystery of the resurrection so beautifully evoked. Afterwards I asked myself why. Why was I so touched? I think that it is because for us the resurrection is the resur-rection of the body, and so it is most radiantly evoked in the dance of the bodies, expressed in the stretching of our bodiliness. The dancers said that their dance is prayer. One might say that our bodiliness is made prayerful. V~rhat better way to evoke the Resurrection in which the Body of Christ is utterly transformed into per-fect praise? Let me give you another example. Everywhere I went in Central America earlier this year I was struck by the thriving popular culture. Our Dominican students wrote poems, painted, composed music. When I asked the pre-novices in E1 Salvador to tell me about their society, they spontaneously composed five little plays, including one about the visitation of a contemplative monastery of Dominican nuns by the Mother General, Mother Timotea. Here one could imagine an incultur-ation of the Gospel, because here there was the fertility of doing something new. The example 1 loved most was that of a Haitian cross, painted by a peasant in our parish in the central moun-tains. It made the cross into a via crucis, along which walked a peasant, walking the way that all Haitian peasants must go, a path of suffering. But at the center of this cross was a flowering palm tree; the dead wood bore fruit. And behind the hills one could see the glimmerings of a new dawn. Here was a symbol so old and so new, the glorious and beautiful cross, pointing one back to the flowering crosses of the Middle Ages and earlier, and yet so Think of Jewish culture. The whole history of that culture is one of interaction, of the absorption and rejection and transformation of ideas from Egypt, Canaan, Babylon, Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Rome. September-October 1994 653 Radcliffe ¯ In~dturation new and so of just-this-moment-and-culture. Yesterday we saw the flowering cross in the philosophy house of the Carmelites of Mary Immaculate. In theology one could think of Thomas Aquinas grasping and transforming Aristotle and giving us a the-ology which is utterly Aristotelian and utterly Christian. Surely it belongs to our Dominican way to love what is simul-taneously so traditional and so fresh, this beauty "so ancient and so new--the ever fertile tradition. As Matagi said, quoting a Chinese proverb: "Find your roots and then fly." The Enlightenment, because it rejected tradition, drove a wedge between our feet and our wings. So the challenge of inculturation is surely to be there where the action is, there where there is intellectual and artistic cre-ativity, so that we may make something which is both utterly our own and which belongs to the culture. In any culture we must seek out the thinkers, the artists, the explorers and sit at their feet so that they can help us to make something new. It does not even matter whether they are believers are not. And this involves courage and trust. We must let people exper-iment, try things out and sometimes fail. We have the liberty to make mistakes. ~re must not fear failure. One famous theologian, I forget whom, said that one cannot contribute a single theolog-ical insight unless you make a hundred mistakes. There can be no creativity if you are afraid to play a bit--homo h~dens, playful humanity. And you cfinnot play around if you are afraid of falling on your face. You cannot dance if you are always afraid of stand-ing on another's feet. An interesting question to ask is this: Do we dare to accept young men and women who might wish to venture a bit into the unknown? What do we look for in vocations? Do we wish them to be nice and safe, people who will not rock the boat? Do we dare accept the rather difficult ones, who will certainly be a prob-lem but who might, just might, be saints? It is good to imagine how we might have reacted if some of our great predecessors had applied to join our province. What would we have written about them after their novitiates. St. Thomas Aquinas: "Eats and thinks too much. ~Refuses to join in communal sport and play basket-ball." Jordan of Saxony: "Always writing to a Sister Diana; he will have problems with chastity." Catherine of Siena: "Too fond of the brethren and thinks she hears voices. Bad start." Fr~ Angelico: "We cannot afford the paint." Savonarola: "We cannot afford the 654 Review for Religious books; he keeps burning them." Las Casas: "He stirs things up too much." Martin de Porres: "His obsession with people at the door upsets community life. No sense of obedience and said that it was less important than charity. Troublemaker." And what would we have said of Dominic? Would we have let him in? Would we? You might think that we Dominicans who so care for the truth should above all fear error. On the contrary, it is because we believe that the Holy Spirit is poured upon the people of God that we can dare to risk getting it wrong, for the church will tell us when we do. History suggests that sometimes it may say that we are wrong when we are not. That is the pain of bringing about the new. The point is that we can play with confidence. I can play with ideas and search and experiment because it does not all depend upon me. It seems to me that the adventure of inculturation is inseparable from that strong sense of our wider belonging in the Order and the church. It is because we belong that we dare to be free. If we are neurotic about making mistakes, as religious often are, then it suggests we do not believe in Pentecost. Look at St. Peter, our rock. He hardly ever got it right, and the church did not collapse. The challenge of inculturation is surely to be there where the action is, there where there is intellectual and artistic creativity, so that we may make something which is both utterly our own and which belongs to the culture. Let Us Talk to One Another The sort of process that I am envisaging, of being creative and imaginative, of experiment and taking risks, will, of course, be painful and disturbing. It will create moments of conflict and uncertainty. One person's inculturation is another person's betrayal. Just think of sexual ethics. Do the official sexual ethics of the church represent a refusal to enter the modern world, as Septonber-October 1994 655 Radcliffe ¯ Inculturation most of my young friends seem to think, or a prophetic stance against a degradation of the body? Should we inculturate and have lots more sex and make many of the young feel more at home or be a counter-culture which might exclude the young for whom this is incomprehensible, but be a witness to the Gospel? Another example: when I was a Dominican student in Paris twenty years ago, the brave and prophetic thing to do seemed to be to give up the habit, live in an ordinary, fiat and get a job. Today it looks rather boringly conformist. Any experimentation, any creativity, will involve painful dis-agreements, dissension, mutual puzzlement. "This is not the Order I joined, some may say. And so it has always been, ever since the beginning, ever since Peter confronted Jesus when he began to walk on the way to Jerusalem; ever since Paul confronted Peter at Antioch for refusing to eat with the Gentiles. There is nothing new in such conflicts. ~,~hat matters is whether they are fertile, fruitful. Do they lead us to truth? I. believe that we should never embark on such a course of experimentation, of incultura-tion, if we do not dare to talk to one another. And do we, do we dare to talk and listen? One of things that has most struck me during this last year of wandering about the world is just how much our church is marked by silence. It is not the meditative rich silence that Matagi can teach us. It is not the silence of our contemplative nuns but the silence that comes of fear. I believe that what most afflicts us is a fear of debate. It is not that people do not make statements; there are statements about dissident theologians and statements by dis-sident theologians. The papers are full of denunciations and counter accusations, but this does not add up to much of a con-versation. Surely we should be among those who, as at a dreadful tea party, try to get the dialogue going! We are one of the largest and most diverse religious families in the church. Where else could one find such a diversity of peo-ple, brethren and sisters and nuns and laity, contemplatives and actives, academics and pastoral people, progressives and conser-vatives? If we cannot take the risk of talking, then who will? And yet sometimes at the heart even of our own communities, where three or four are gathered together in Dominic's name, there may be silence in the midst of them. As I endlessly repeat as I wander around the world: we do have a tradition of dialogue, of disputa-tion. And, as you can see in St. Thomas, this is not founded on 656 Review for Religious ham~nering your opponent into the ground, but arguing with hi~n so as to learn frmn him or her. Central to our tradition is the belief that you might argue with someone precisely because you dare to hope that he or she may teach you something. Who was that holy man who grabbed his opponent and said: "I will not let you go until you teach me something"? We should wrestle with the other as Jacob wrestled with the angel, so that we may demand a blessing. We must dare to raise the question of truth. It is our motto. In much of modern Western culture, this is a word which one may hardly breathe. To question the truth of another's utterance, is to put them into question, is to question their value, their right to be. If someone tells you that he/she is really a Martian who has come from outer space, then you must merely reply: "Honey, if you are comfortable with that idea, then it's fine by me." But we Dominicans ought to dare to raise the question of truth not because we know it all, but because we hope that together we may discover it, and so we respect the other enough to say some-times: "I believe you to be wrong." It is not worth saying to any-one: "I think that you are wrong," unless you believe that it matters what they think. It is too easy to say in ecumenical discussions that we all believe the same thing deep down. There would be no point in dialogue if it were so obviously true. The first stage of friendship is discovering how ~nuch you are alike. The second is daring to see how much you differ. The third may be the revelation that in the hidden heart of the unspeakable God, we are indeed one. And so, to conclude, I would suggest, indeed I would argue, that if inculturation is not just selecting items off some cultural supermarket shelf--"1 will have a Hindi bhaja,1, one item of Buddhist meditation and a Christian Eucharist, please"--if it is a thoroughly creative business, then it asks of us a twofold courage: the. courage to experiment, to play, to risk failure and mistakes. But there is also the equally deep courage of talking to one another, in the pursuit of truth that transcends us all. Do we dare? September-October 1994 657 J.J. MUELLER Second-Stage Inculturation: Six Principles of the American Mind Anew day has dawned in the understanding of the rela-tionship between the gospel message and culture. Vatican II officially used the word culture for the first time as a theolog-ical category in the process of evangelization.' Soon after the council, the word mculturation became widely accepted to describe bringing the gospel into a culture. Simply said, culture described the human fashioning, working, and making of an environment wherein and whereby people survived, lived, and developed val-ues and meaning in their lives. Languages, symbols, institutions, and rituals were integral components of every, culture. The church recognized that people could hear the Good News only in the light of their own cultural ambient. As a result, culture tended to be dealt with as the world out there, synonymous with an observable society, and could be examined empirically. This was the first stage of our thinking about inculturation. A new day has dawned and shines its light upon a second stage. Two features characterize this second stage. First, we are now moving from a world "out there" to a world "in here," that is, we understand culture to impact the nonobservable world where our thoughts, feelings, presuppositions, and assumptions about life take shape. Secondly, we are not talking about the gospel J.J. Mueller SJ, associate professor of theology, at Saint Louis University., is the author of Practical Discipleship: A United States Christology (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1992). His address is Department of Theological Studies; Saint Louis University; 3634 Lindell Blvd; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. 658 Review for Religious coming to a pagan land, but about believers talking to believers across cultures. Regarding the world "in here," the first great missionary Paul expressed it well when he said that the gospel penetrates like "a two-edged sword that cuts between bone and marrow." ~re can add to Paul's words that the gospel cuts between our spirit and the culture through which we must express ourselves. Not only can no human being enter this world without simultaneously being born into a culture, but also the mind of every person can understand, judge, and decide only through a culture. The formative culture of the mind, then, is a domain where the gospel must enter. The new stage of inculturation is not talking about the gospel encoun-tering a non-Christian culture, but about Christian believers speaking to each other out of their respective cultures. One unasked-for consequence can be misunderstanding, with tension as its sign. Because we use the same words, communication is not necessarily clear, and different meanings are given and received. As an African proverb says, "We see with the same eyes but not with the same mind." While it is apparent that cultures differ, we seem to have operated as if minds were the same. They are not. The principles, assumptions, and expectations set up by the incul-turated mind differ from culture to culture, and it is here that the source of many tensions exist in theo Catholic church today. This article will present the culture of the mind I know best: the American mind. By using American I am referring to a person of the United States, knowing full well that it also refers to peo-ple of two continents. I am doing so simply because no other ade-quate adjective of United States people exists. Although the American mind is my example, I hope to make clear that the method used in this article is not limited to only one culture but is applicable to any other culture. The American mind, as with any mind, is principally formed by the society in which it lives. The word society is often used interchangeably with culture because a society is the largest and clearest designation of the common particularities that bind peo-ple together in a common identity. We do not say we are "Western" culture but "American" culture. Within the American culture exist dynamics of binding and formative influence. The principles of democracy as lived in the United States form the basic social culture of the American mind. This type of democracy is not identical to democracy anywhere else in the world, because September-October 1994 659 The word democracy has had a stormy ecclesial history due to differing contexts about what it means. it has a particular history and experience unlike any other. Nevertheless the principles that undergird this democracy are clear and found in the Constitution oft& United States and the first ten amendments to the constitution, the Bill of Rights. Six prin-ciples clearly operate in the American mind which, although not exhaustive, present adequately the tensions of intellectual incul-turation with which the American church is faced. I will present each one in turn by providing an explanation of what the prin-ciple means and then follow it by the events which have given rise to the spe-cific tensions within the American church, thereby forming a kind of profile of the American mind by the end of this study. Each of the six sections will proceed in two parts. The first part is an explana-tion of the principles, expectations, and assumptions that operate in the American mind. The second part begins with a ten-sion between the Catholic American mind and with decisions made by the Vatican. The tension with the Vatican mind is obvi-ously an important relationship to examine because it brings to the surface a series of misunderstandings that are deeper than a lack of knowledge, whose source lies at the cultural difference forming and filtering each mindset. It therefore focuses the dis-cussion so that people of other cultures can understand what is happening. In addition, the examples are international in char-acter and clearly represent cross-cultural exchanges that offer the clearest test cases for examining the workings of the American mind. The process, however, could be done also through exam-pies from other cultures, for example, American and Asian minds, or from dioceses and parishes located on East Coast and West Coast, or women and men's religious orders, in the case of an international group like Jesuits and how they actually interpret their religious life in different cultures. Most probably, the reader will see other applications. This article is not about championing American culture. That would be to impose one culture on another. My concern is much deeper, because if we are to find out how to be authentic and 660 Review for Religious responsible disciples of Jesus Christ we must come to grips with those unconscious yet dynamically present principles by which we filter all information, even religious. Therefore, in order to become more modest about our cultural limits--not to foist them upon others and to avoid any reverse American "cultural imperi-alism"-- we must shine the spotlight upon the culture of the American mind. Democracy The principle of democracy is central to the American mind and gathers the other principles together to make a distinctive unity. The American people express their principles of demo-cratic governance in the Constitution of the United States; today we are the longest-lasting and oldest democratic country still run by its original constitution. This longevity points to perduring cur-rents that are continually renewing themselves and that run deep in the American mentality. So too is it with Catholics, who came mostly as Europeans, thinking as Europeans; they gradually yielded this identity to a new American one. So goes the process of culture. The demo-cratic way of governance thereby became commonly accepted to the point of being taken for granted and, even more, growingly appreciated for its way of ordering the commonweal. As early as 1784, the first bishop of the United States, John Carroll, saw this process happening and made the prophetic statement that the religious revolution in America was "more extraordinary" than the political.2 Bishop Carroll argued with Rome for the indepen-dence of the fledgling church, but he was unsuccessful; the American church had only "mission" status under the Roman congregation Propaganda Fide until 1908. Democracy was not won or shaped easily in its two-hundred-year history. The cost was often war and bloodshed, with Catholics fighting and dying for democracy 'in every war. Mistakes were made, but Americans really do not disagree about the freedoms that democracy offers. Hence, the emotions of American people run deep on this subject. It is a form of governance and a princi-ple in which the Christian message can flourish. Tension: The word democracy has had a stormy ecclesial his-tory due to differing contexts about what it means. The main rea-son is that the European (and one must includ~ the Vatican) mind Septentber-October 1994 661 has interpreted democracy through the tragic and chaotic events surrounding the French Revolution, beginning in 1789 where the church suffered grievously; even the pope was imprisoned by Napoleon. The French Revolution became an example of the bankruptcy of the principles undergirding the "Modern World." In 1794 at the Synod of Pistoia Pius VI condemned this rage for "furious democracy" (Auctorem fidei). A century later, the Vatican warned against the so-called "Americanist heresy," again finding democracy an unacceptable way of operating. The twist this time was that the Vatican thought that democracy was inappropriate for ecclesial governance. The filter for the Vatican was again European democracy, especially as it was being proposed in France. It must be remembered that even such an extraordinary person as Pius IX, who dominated and determined the papacy in the 19th century, never left the papal states in his lifetime! In fact, the "Americanist heresy" was started in France, not in the United States, with the French mis-interpretation of Isaac Hecker. The bishops in America were con-fused by the 1899 papal letter Testem benevolentiae, and some objected that such a "description" did not find its place in the United States. Of far greater consequence, however, is the present turn to democracy by many countries in the world. The forms of democ-racy are not necessarily in the American vein, but are their own specialized types that belong to the same trunk of the tree. Nevertheless, the 19th-century lesson needs to be laid to rest. With the end ,of the Cold War, while a wave of "democracy" is going around the world, the Vatican continues to warn people in an antiquated way that "the church is not a democracy," a fre-quent but confusing ecclesial response given to Americans and others who raise concerns about undecided and open-ended issues, especially as they particularize themselves in each culture. This can hardly be called a "cultural imperialism" but a holding to Vatican II's clarion call to evangelize each culture. What, Americans ask, is the alternative procedure? A monarchical form of government, historically embedded in the European tradition? The question is not one of winners and losers, but one of where is God and the kingdom of God in all this. While Americans understand and even agree with the Vatican's underlying objection that religious truth is not up for a vote, nev-ertheless Americans are confused because many of the roles of 662 Review for Religious governance could be participatory. After all, is it not true that the Catholic Church has found fertile ground here, unlike anywhere else in the modern world, through the protection of democracy? "Why," the American asks, "would people want to keep and con-tinue with ways of governance that created problems like reli-gious wars, intolerance, and harsh judgments that lead to oppressing one religious group at the expense of another?" Americans founded a type of governance where these European traits were left behind. Something new and in contrast to Europe was established on these shores. Our experience of democracy raises serious questions that the uni-versal church has to address; it is not simply an American phenomenon nor an American triumphalism, but a search to value difference in what might be a non-Eurocentric model. The marvelous success story of the American church and its vitality, is related to democracy where rights, freedoms, and opportunities offer peo-ple the chance to participate in their own destiny as believers. Hence, fianericans have a graced expe-rience that says the principles of democracy are not antithetical to ecclesial governance. The outstanding German theologian Karl Rahner wrote years ago that, granted the church was not a democ-racy, nevertheless ecclesial decisions and ways of proceeding could be done democratically. It is a legitimate way of proceeding within the church. Most important for our consideration, one must remember that there is no other way for Americans to think than the way they have learned through their culture. What is the case in America is also the case elsewhere; a tension results when cul-turally foreign and intellectually alien forms of governance are imposed upon a people. The answer is complex and not one that I wish to address here, but it comes down to this: To remain truly Catholic is to be "universal" and thereby to grant to others the legitimate and welcomed influence of culture upon my/our faith. My point, however, is to examine the unexamined starting point Americans have a graced experience that says the principles of democracy are not antithetical to ecclesial governance. September-October 1994 663 of our mental culture: If the gospel is to be truly inculturated, the question of democracy as the beginning point of under-standing the gospel message must be taken on clearly and with respect. 664 Due Process If everyone is to be treated as an equal who has rights before law and society, then Americans expect that the manner of pro-ceeding is honest and fair to all concerned. This means attention must be given to the various forms of due process. The Asnerican Revolution of 1776 was ignited because of British abuse of power which taxed the colonists without representation. In response to a painful lesson learned from. being oppressed, the U.S. Constitution included principles in determined opposition to any authoritarian and totalitarian governance and in so doing accepted the principle of due process. Hence fairness for everyone was guaranteed by law, including the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty, to be tried by a' jury of one's peers, to know one's accuser, and to be represented by counsel in a court of law. Above all, fairness included the right to information, freedom of speech, and the power both to elect judicious officials who would uphold these rights and to remove any official who violated them. Whether a president or a pauper, every citizen is equal before the law. These protections are human acts of a culture that seeks to guarantee as far as possible that truth prevails. Above all, it is fair to everyone, and no one can claim a hidden truth or secret agenda of a special process. Because the process is common and follows the same rules, the innocent and powerless are protected while the powerful and privileged are not allowed unfair advantage or tyran-nical sway over citizens. Tension: Because Americans operated on the non-European principle that peopl~ are innocent until proved guilty, Americans regard ecclesiastical censuring as a serious judgment that requires due process to be observed. If due process is violated, then the act is considered authoritarian in the most arbitrary sense of the word. Americans recognize that people of goodwill have differences of judgment and actions, but, if the truth will prevail, every person has the right to explain and defend his or her actions. All per-sons deserve this basic dignity, and so does the community from Reviezv for Religion,s which they spring. It is too easy to bash Banerica for individual-ism and not see the heroic, countercultural struggle of kanerican Catholics to form communities. And certainly, when it comes to something as important as faith, Americans assume that any eccle-siastical censure would be at least as respectful of persons as their culture is. Americans, painfully and confusedly, have found decisions from Rome violating due process. A few examples that have angered Americans are these: the censuring of Archbishop Hunthausen of Seattle; the silencing of creation-centered the-ologian Matthew Fox; the removal of Charles Curran from his teaching position even though the allegations date over a twenty-five year period (the formal investigation began in July 1979) and he had not taught in the area of sexual ethics for fifteen years; and the requiring of a "mandate" for teachers of theology, which puts the entire Catholic university in jeopardy. (Ironically an act the enemies of Catholicism could not do for over two centuries might become a reality through the imposition of European Vatican principles on the American context.) In these cases, accusers remained anonymous, secret letter campaigns to the Vatican held disproportional power, actions and judgments fol-lowed in secret, and unilateral silencing for a year was imposed on theologians as a test and act of obedience; and quite beyond the demands of faith an additional test of loyalty such as an oath was required of theologians as if the sacrament of baptism were not enough for faith. An~ericans find such actions heavy-handed, clash-ing with the deepest rights to which peoples are entitled. "Fairness" is multifaceted and certainly indicative of the gospel message. American Catholics feel their own integrity is violated when a basic human right and clearly a gospel requirement, a spiritual and human boundary deep in the inculturated psyche, has been disregarded. Certainly a gospel-oriented church is not looking to squelch such rights, yet the outrage is there. Attention to the culture of the mind is the place where any movement for-ward can be made. In front of the American public and on front pages of news-papers, the church unfortunately seems to be cast in a role where it is more guilty of human-rights abuses than secular society. American Catholics feel compromised in their witness to the gospel because of such action. My purpose is not to put blame anywhere or defend one side or the other but to point out the September-October 1994 665 tension and the culture of the mind that has to be dealt with if we are to enter into a deeper encounter with Christ. A new dawn requires the examination of how the gospel is received, judged, and preached in a culture. Equal Rights ~qlile everyone is not created equal in talents and opportu-nity., everyone shares in equality, of personal rights before the law. For example, that people are born into a social class (lower, mid-dle, upper class) should neither reward nor condemn them. Persons can seek their own pursuits of life, liberty, and happi-ness. As a result, Americans ensure opportunities such as manda-tory education to level the mountain of privilege and fill in the pit of poverty, to create a playing field of possibility based on merit. Hence, openness to the future, new possibilities, and change are characteristically strong Mnerican attributes. American children are raised with encouraging dreams such as "X~rork hard and you will be a success; . Make something of yourself; . Be all that you can be;" "You too can grow up to be president of the United States." Still, we are not naive about these dreams. We have learned that within our country upward possibilities have down-side problems, even unsurmountable for some, and that in our foreign policies we have failed to grasp the different cultural struc-tures of meanings and values. The principle, nevertheless, remains that people are equal and that the future can be shaped by our human decisions. The question remains: Who will decide? Aanericans do not want it done by the tyrannical few. Americans have faithfully championed this position and insisted on it for two centuries. American Catholics helped shape this ideal. A long-standing and troubling conflict about equality has been the gender issue. I do not think it is possible to understand the gender issue in the United States without understanding some-thing of the racial issues which are part of the same cloth. With respect to the race issue, the bloody and soul-searing Civil War (1861-1865) resolved the legal question of slavery in favor of emancipation. The painful legal struggles afterward led the Supreme Court in 1896 to the divisive "separate but equal" clause that allowed over a half century of civil racism. It was finally reversed by the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Americans "know this history and are being 666 Review for Religious increasingly sensitized to the racism at work deep in the fabric of society. The gender issue has become a connected issue where the lack of equality has been a reality that cannot be ignored. The equality of women is a world revolution that, in America, predates the founding of the United States. In the 17th century, New England's Anne Hutchinson explained religious experience through a woman's experience and was forced to flee. Two cen-turies of women's advocacy has culminated in recognition of women's equal rights. Today, equal-rights legislation dominates business, education, government, and every facet of personal rela-tionships, including new laws against sexual harassment in the workplace. Notwithstanding the many personal sexual prefer-ences that the law must deal with, the legal principle in the gen-der issue is clear: Gender is not to be a barrier in freedoms and the opportunities to exercise one's talents. Now even little girls can be all that they can be and dream of becoming president. Tension: In the search for basic equality, Americans find priv-ilege based on race or gender an inequitable, unjust principle upon which to make distinctions. Catholic life, unfortunately, not only reflected but supporte'd many of these unjust positions. The list includes the discouragement of indigenous vocations to priest-hood and religious life, and "separate but equal" racial policies where congregations were racially segregated, even by pews. These historical realities are not just a bligh't on the history of the American mentality; they make us more sensitive to our sin-ful past. The feminist movement is another case in point. Why women could not be altar servers, and crossbearers, have their fe(t washed at Holy Thursday liturgy, preach, or enter into ordained min-istries of diaconate and priesthood, bishop or pope, simply because of their gender, is not clear to Americans who want to under-stand. American Catholics, while perhaps agreeing with the con-clusion, find arguments based on gender not only unconvincing but sexist, and not gospel. This point of tension is awkward and difficult for everyone, as we all know. For the American mind, it is not, therefore, a way of proceeding to declare topics' on women "nondiscussable." Truth demands, Americans think, that such top-ics should be discussable to proceed forward and arrive at an understanding of the truth. Equality implies that women's expe-rience, like racial experience, be listened to as they encounter the living, loving God, even if it is awkward and uncomfortable for Septentber-October 1994 667 women or men. Otherwise, Americans cannot help but see the ecclesial policies as acts of unilateral power and authority, to con-trol others, not principles of service and truth to free people to encounter the risen Lord. In the church we cannot trivialize the difficulties of equal rights, whether racial or gender, or unas-sumingly accept any solution where there are racial or gender winners and losers. Then everyone loses and the gospel is lost. We have to find another way out while holding on to equality of the rights of believers in the community of believers. The Right to Choose Americans value the right to choose as an important exercise of their maturity and responsibility. The right of self-determina-tion is not necessarily individualistic or selfish; one can commit one's self to community, the common good, relationships, and religion. It even respects the right to .make decisions and be wrong. The first experience of American Catholics was their choice of religion. Catholics fought for their right to belong to their religion, form organizations, and associate with whomever . they wished. The right to choose is a most powerful belief in the goodness and willingness of a citizen to contribute to the common good. Tension: Here is one of the truly difficult tensions for con-temporary American Catholics. Take the example of birth con-trol. On the one hand, the Vatican that told people that they were spiritually mature enough to form and follow their consciences has, on the other hand, seemingly reversed itself by telling peo-ple what their conclusion and decision should be. I am not speak-ing about the arguments about birth control, or making any judgment about it; my aim is to shed light on why there is a ten-sion for Americans. People cannot be given the right to choose and then told they have no right to choose. Their reaction, pre-dictably, is confusion over the double messages being given. Americans are no strangers to disagreement, but they expect open discussion of the problems and the marshaling of all the data (his-torical, anthropological, theological, and so forth). When differ-ent choices are possible, people have the freedom to make them to the best of thei.r consciences. One other example which is not in the ethical sphere is the selection of bishops for dioceses and priests for parishes. Without 668 Review for Religious local participation by the people, the choices often seem capri-cious, whimsical, punitive, or mysteriously rewarding. Giving rea-sons for the selection, even asking for consultation in the process where it concerns a parish or diocese, seems proper. If people are not consulted in their own affairs, then their conclusion is that someone has something to hide or that such decisions are simply autocratic and arbitrary, something to be disregarded as irrelevant because the decisions speak for only few decision makers. This is not a request for democracy, say American Catholics. If, as the Catholic Church teaches, the Holy Spirit resides in all believers, then why act as if it belonged only to a few? The challenge is how to give voice to people open to the Holy Spirit. Americans desire to con-tribute their.understanding of the Spirit to the entire church and to listen to other cultures' under-standing and contribution. At the same time Americans recognize legitimate authority in the pope and bishops to make decisions with necessary knowledge and perspec-tive. It would seem some cooperation of the two ways of pro-ceeding might be a way to go forward with mutual dignity and trust. It would be, moreover, a beacon of trustworthy light to our dialogue with other' Christian and non-Christian ecumenical groups. In the church we cannot trivialize the difficulties of equal rights, whether racial or gender, or unassumingly accept any solution where there are racial or gender winners and losers. Voluntary Participation Americans reject forced participation and prefer the freedom to participate in the types and varieties of work that they choose. Voluntary participation by i;avitation has always been part of the American Catholic church and is one of its most distinctive but unheralded trademarks. In his first pastoral letter (1792) Bishop John Carroll wrote that voluntary support had to be asked of the faithful because there was no tradition of civil support, an unusual Sept~nber-Octobcr 1994 669 circumstance but a reality continuing to this day. The reasons for a voluntary church are easy to understand. Nations like France, Spain, and Portugal were responsible for the support and evan-gelization of their new mission territories. Rome had little say, and policies were actually up to the nations to enforce. The result was financial support that made evangelization dependent upon the secular nations. No such relation ~xisted in the "Protestant" colonies in America controlled by the Church of England. The Catholic church was not allowed to operate openly, and people had to take oaths to uphold the monarch as the sovereign head of the church. It was an easy way to keep pesty Catholics out of the colonies, especially "papist" priests. As a result, finances were held in the name of lay people who paid for the support of both the church and clergy. This situation, incidentally, spawned the first great crisis in the American church, the problem of lay trusteeism where laity held the property and appointed pastors. The bishops broke this system in the 1830s, and the trend to centralized power in the episcopacy began) The virtue ofvoluntarism, nevertheless, gave rise to unparalleled accomplishments with hospitals, orphanages, soup kitchens, educational institutions, and charitable organiza-tions of every kind. Most often, religious orders provided the people to start and maintain these institutions. Initially most of these religious came from Europe, with American-born religious gradually taking their place. This story is one of the greatest con-tributions to American Catholicism. Tension: American Catholics know from their cultural condi-tioning that money is power, given in support of those appeals, needs, and cases that one deems desirable. Americans feel, how-ever, that the church operates with a double standard, namely that it is only too ready to accept their money but not their expe-rience. A growing tension occurs, then, if people feel their finan-cial support is either mismanaged or used against them. For example, the recent international financial scandals Of the Vatican by Bishop Marcinkus hit Americans doubly hard. First, Americans saw that this trusted Vatican official seemed to use church money more like a Wall Street broker than a churchman. How could this be allowed? Some call the lure of holding the purse strings the curse of the "Judas touch." Secondly, Mnericans were out.raged ¯ that it was an American bishop who was in charge. Whereas Americans have trusted the papacy, bishops, and pastors with the 670 Review for Religious disposal of money, such scandals only reinforce the idea that the clergy, as financial overseers, are naive, even irresponsible, about money. Unfortunately, too many examples abound to support their judgment. Because Americans consider their voluntary finan-cial support as an important act that demands fiscal responsibil-ity, they demand fiscal expertise, management, disclosure, accountability, and even consultation about its use. That means sharing power. Is the Vatican ready to do this with the laity? How are we to configure such cooperation? At the same time, if Americans feel the money is used against them, then they will refuse to give. For example, women have a seldom-mentioned illustrious and even heroic history of voluntary generosity in this country. If women feel sexist policies against them, they will likely refuse to give not only their time but also their money to support such a situation. Americans, unlike a state that supports a church, give voluntarily and expect to be treated with respect in every phase of their lives, not just in the financial area. If there is only a financial regard, as many American lay people in the parish have concluded, then Americans bristle because it is only their money that church governance wants. To an American this message would be one of utter disrespect and manipulation, totally against the gospel, whose message the peo-ple asking for money are supposed to be upholding. Thus, in the voluntary American system, the littlest person giving and not the bulging pocketbook has to be respected. If the dignity of the vol-untary gift and the person giving are to be upheld across cultures, then the two cultures of the mind, kanerican and Vatican, need to address the implications and meanings involved from both sides. Tolerance and Plurality United States Americans live in a pluralistic culture that accepts the principle of tolerance, not as an end in itself but as a precondition for moving forward and presenting the truth. Catholics of Maryland and New York were instrumental in shap-ing the original type of toleration that was later adopted in the U.S. Constitution. It meant a separation of church and state, but it accentuated the belief that people could converse with one another and at the same time live their lives according to their own beliefs without fear. This principle of toleration, while born and bred in/Mnerica, achieved universal church recognition only September-October 1994 671 after one hundred years of continual restatement, when it was finally accepted in the Vatican II document "Declaration on Religious Liberty." But even here John Courtney Murray, the architect of the document, cautioned believers that the document applied to people outside the church, not inside it (emphasis mine). This article argues for the beginnings of the discussion inside the church, especially from the view of the particular American cul-ture from which this society works. This principle of toleration recognizes that there is a cultural diversity within th~ United States which still remains the most ambitious experiment in diversity by any nation in the world. If it works, itis because the principle of toleration and the gover-nance by democracy has allowed it to work. Tension: Americans know that, despite the best of intentions, relationships fall apart. The question is whether to look back-wards to the past and try to assign blame, or to look to the future in building the kingdom for the future. The factors are compli-cated and complex, and judgments that punish people for trying to find solutions are not acceptable. For people trying their best, tolerance of their decisions before God may be the most Christian response possible. Americans clearly want lifelong commitments, not shallow, expedient ones; but if they do not work out, then people are encouraged to pick up the pieces and do their best. Roman canon law, which is certainly not kanerican law, holds to principles of the unbreakable relationship in marriage and priest-hood. This is good and one side of the human hope. But rela-tionships change and do not always last forever. In annulment cases many Americans find it a violation of their integrity to have to adnfit that a first marriage did not exist. It did exist and they did their best; it did not work, despite their desires that it would be forever. People can live in the past or the present. Americans fol-low Christ by picking up our lives and by trying to be the best lov-ing people we can be, now and in the future. Too often many Americans decide not even to go through an annulment pro-ceeding; others simply stop practicing because they feel judged and condemned in trying to uphold Catholic principles, kanericans ask the question: Could there not be other ways of dealing with these good ends from both sides? With regard to priesthood, a priest who asks to be laicized and who has faithfially served the people of God for twenty-five years must admit that he really did not have a vocation. For many 672 Review for Religious priests who have left, even to sign such a statement is at the cost of personal integrity. It is not true that they did not have a voca-tion to serve as a priest those many years. IA~hen married men become deacons, they do not renounce their married vocation. Cannot, Americans say, vocations be not eternal but changeable calls from God to be and go in other directions? If not, where would Abraham be? Francis of Assisi? Ignatius of Loyola? Mother Teresa? In a related issue of confusion, Americans ask why mar-ried Anglican priests who are trained and lived years in another tradition can become married Roman Catholic priests, while faith-ful Roman Catholic priests who live and love the Catholic tradi-tion want to marry but cannot? Is it necessary because of law to pursue and establish blame such that one person is a "winner" at the expense of another as a "loser"? Americans recognize that vocations can be forever, and people desire this; but life and rela-tionships change. When they do, the conflict for the Vatican becomes maintaining a principle of life commitment, while the conflict for Americans is to recognize change that they might not understand and yet not judge but encourage the person to find God in these changed circumstances. When faithful people's integrity is violated, there might be other ways to understand and deal with these issues. To understand where God is may require learning the culture of the mind. Conclusion These six principles are not meant to exhaust the profile of the American mind. They are, however, six principles that operate within the culture and are formative in how Americans think, live the gospel message, and act in the public domain. A new day has dawned as the second stage of inculturation is taking shape. It is a stage that focuses upon the inner world of culture which forms and filters our understanding. There is no other way for Americans to live. To be in a culture is to be fundamentally influ-enced by it, and Americans are trying to be faithful to the total demands of the gospel message. The way people think, therefore, is not the end point but a starting point. It is only by examining our mental culture that we can truly understand the gospel mes-sage and neither impose one culture upon another nor assume that we are all the same. We will be able to hear the voice of Jesus calling in its many inculturated expressions. Septonber-October 1994 673 Mueller . Se~ Nevertheless, tensions will continue. In this second stage of inculturation, two areas of concern will figure prominently, and I will use the American mind as the example. First, American cul-ture has an identity separate from Europe, just as other coun-tries, even with democracies, differ from America. Thus principles, assumptions, and presuppositions are bound to be different. If this is the case with cultures united in the larger Western main-stream, then how much more challenging will it be for cultures in Africa, India, Asia, and China? Secondly, and this follows from the 'first, the church may find itself in a double bind: The Vatican governs by one set of principles and the culture by another; this often results in strong tension or even opposition. The one goal for everyone is to be the best disciple that one can be. The church is now in a second stage of inculturation, begun at Vatican II, where it must listen to the Holy Spirit through inculturated believers and find ways to bring forth God's work in new cultural wineskins. While we do not have a crystal ball to see into the future, we do see that the future depends upon a cross-cultural contribution that respects the differences in the culturally conditioned mind. We must struggle to be sure that, in Africa, India, ~s'ia, Europe, and America, though we do not look the same exteriorly or express ourselves in identical terms interiorly, we share the same discipleship in the Holy Spirit. In order to find this necessary unity of the church, then, we must make the turn to the interior culture: the inculturated mind. Notes ~ Certainly, it raises questions about the inculturation going on within the Vatican mind. See the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et spes), The Documents of Vatican H, ed. Walter Abbott SJ (New York: America Press, 1966), chapter 2, paragraphs 53- 62, pp. 259-270. 2 James Hennesey SJ, ~'Catholicism in an American Environment: The Early Years," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 664. 3 James Hennesey SJ, "American Catholics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1981), pp. 93-100. 674. Review for Religious J. PETER SARTAIN The Challenge of Priestly Leadership I went through the seminary when it was not yet con-sidered necessary to teach administration and manage-ment skills to future priests. It was not that such skills were considered unimportant, for in fact some of the sem-inary faculty were excellent mentors in administration. There was simply no formal course in the administrative aspects of priestly ministry; I suppose it was assumed that we would eventually learn what we needed to know by observation and imitation--perhaps by osmosis! Even now, while I am a strong proponent of formal training in administrative skills for seminarians, I do not expect that such training will completely prepare them for the task; facility in management will come only with experience in managing. Moreover, I have come to realize that the fun-damental issue to be addressed in seminary formation is not administration or management, but leadership. When I was first assigned to a primarily administrative position some years ago, I was often frightened and bewil-dered with certain sensitive tasks. I am diplomatic by nature, but that was not enough. In a directed retreat one year I sensed God calling me to develop my own style of leadership, one that was both consistent with my person-ality and integral to my priestly vocation. The retreat experience confirmed my belief that there should be some-thing unique about the way a priest goes about being a leader. J. Peter Sartain is pastor of Saint Louis parish in Memphis and serves as vicar general of the diocese. His address is Saint Louis Church; 203 S. V~rhite Station Road; Memphis, Tennessee 38117. leadership and authority September-October 1994 675 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership During the years I ministered primarily in administrative positions I was often asked, "Do you think you will ever get back into pastoral work?" This article is a reflection on the ministry of leadership entrusted to priests, since their leadership role is at the heart of their call to holiness. Excellent resources are available to improve administrative skills--just treatment of church employees, man-agement principles, techniques for conflict resolution, and the like. I know the value and importance of such resources, and I assume that insofar as a priest is called to administrative leader-ship he will make proper use of them. Some insights into priestly leadership I have gained through the years have challenged me to grow in holiness. I will add a few practical exhortations gleaned from experience. Seminarians would benefit best-from the study of parish administration were it considered in the broader context of leader-ship. Whatever the particular ministry a priest is called to exer-cise, he is a leader. At times his leadership will occur in a parish setting, with its concomitant administrative responsibilities; at other times he might be appointed to a primarily administrative position. No matter what the job, the priest's leadership should always be rooted in prayer and sacramental ministry, especially the Eucharist. The question always struck me as misguided. Perhaps the questioner intended to ask, "Do you think you will ever get back into parish work?" But even then the unspoken implication was that only parish work is truly "pastoral" or, more fundamentally, "priestly." As pastor I have discovered a clear continuity with my years as a church administrator; there are not two priesthoods, two leaderships, but one. First I am a priest. I am a man called to accept the grace of holiness, to pray and preach and celebrate the sacraments with devotion and a clean heart. I am also called to be a manager of people and departments, a strategic planner, a creator of budgetsi' and a convener of meetings. This type of work has provided a 676 Review for Religious unique setting for nay growth as a priest, my ongoing conversion of life, and my love for the vocation I have accepted. That is not to downplay the tedium and frustration that are part of every vocation; but I see clearly that the task before me each day is to approach my work with a priestly heart. Although I will make frequent mention of challenges and problems, I do not wish to give the impression that they are the constant lot of the church leader. Most colleagues work as part of a team, striving to put their faith into practice. Most are sup-portive, enthusiastic, and competent. At the same time, problem areas exist, and they bear the potential of trying the morale of the priest whose responsibility it is to address them. Challenges to the Aspiring Leader Church leadership today presents a number of unique chal-lenges, one of which is the rampant confusion between power/ authority and leadership. Christian leadership is not defined in terms of power, yet many people view it only that way. The con-fusion is most evident in some discussions about the nature of ordained ministry, but it is also present in the daily business of the church. I was caught off guard when a brother priest once asked me, "Do you realize how much power you have?" He was refer-ring to the decisions placed in my hands. What caught my atten-tion was not his suggestion that what I did affected other people's lives, but his implication that perhaps I had not yet come to that realization myself. Insofar as what I do affects the lives of oth-ers, one could say that I have "power"; in that case I pray it is the power of wisdom, prudence, and compassion. If I have "authority," I hope it is like the authority of Jesus, in whom there was no contradiction betw.een word and deed. I am profoundly aware that what I do affects peoples' lives; as a consequence I must rely first and foremost on the grace of God to guide ~ne in exercising the church leadership with which he has invested me. It is more difficult to exercise genuine leadership than to wield power; but it is, liberating for the priest to realize that the grace of ordination involves the promise of God's continued guidance. Thus the priest will not lead unless he prays, unless he is steeped in the Word of God, unless he is one with the Eucharistic Christ, unless he is striving for ongoing conversion of life. He will not lead until his heart is centered on serving God's people in the September-October 1994 677 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership person of Christ. The priest does not lead by giving directions, by pointing this way or that; he can point only in the direction he himself is going. He leads by following Christ, and he follows Christ by leading God's people. Priestly ministry is often defined in terms of "function" (what do you do all day?); the priest then becomes the coordinator of other functions in the church, analogous to the conductor of an orchestra. Such an analogy is flawed from the outset, for the priest is someone grounded interiorly, finding his vocation and his peace not in power or in function, but in a Person, the Lord Jesus, in whose priesthood he has been invited to share. In an egalitarian society which highly values equality, some people become suspicious of peers who accept positions of lead-ership. They are assumed to have sold out to power and status and to have forgotten the daily lot of the common person. Several years ago I scheduled a luncheon meeting with a psychologist who had been working with one of our priests; as Vicar for Clergy it is my responsibility to act as liaison with the bishop in such cases. Although we had spoken by telephone several times, the psychologist and I had not met until the luncheon. Toward the end of our time together he told me that he had "checked me out" with some Catholic friends. They reported that I was friendly and caring, a nice guy; several added that for that very reason they were puzzled about why I had my job! I was amused both by his need to check me out and by the comments he received. I learned once again that some people simply do not expect "nice guys" to be in positions of authority, even in the church. Moreover, some are hesitant to accept church leadership posi-tions or to support leaders precisely because of misconceptions about authority figures. My own hesitation early in the priest-hood continues to remind me that as a priest I am to be a com-passionate, just, and humble leader. At times, others will conveniently appeal to our authority in search of the legitimation of a decision they have made. When coworkers lack confidence in their own leadership or authority, they appeal to mine. When they are uncomfortable accepting responsibility for a decision, they will add, "and Fr. Sartain agrees with it." Such posturing once annoyed me; now it reminds me that when I delegate a decision I promise to claim it as my own. Most challenging are the controversies that permeate the atmosphere for many who choose to minister in the church: the- 678 Rbview for Religious ological conflict, feelings of oppression, disenchantment, burnout, and anger. The causes of these sore spots are legion, and those who would reduce them to a single cause miss the mark in under-standing human nature. It is a dangerous temptation to believe that they exist only in the church; they are present in every orga-nization and workplace. They are particularly challenging when pow-erfully present but unspoken or unconscious. Unconscious anger is frequently directed toward the nearest leader, identified as the "authority figure." The leader must learn to deal with both the angry person and the issue at hand. The person demands more energy than the issue, and the temp-tation to frustratedly dismiss both person and issue is great. It is eas-ier to deal with someone who is angry with me, rather than with someone who is just "angry." Once when I made a decision unpopular with a religious sister, she subse-quently felt the need to arrange a meeting to tell me she was angry, "but not with you--with the church." The truth was that she was indeed angry with me, but her anger had its roots in dealings with other priests and prior situ-ations unrelated to me; nonetheless it affected our working rela-tionship. I had to be aware of that fact, whether or not she was. Am I prepared to deal with the unresolved anger that seems to grip many in the church, today? Am I willing to accept the fact that the anger will often be directed toward me as an ordained minister of the church? Will I make the effort to address issues even when the attendant anger is unreflective and misdirected? In a five-part work entitled On Consideration, a major portion of which is devoted to advice on sound administration, St. Bernard of Clairvaux writes to Pope Eugene III, a fellow monk who had been elected pope. At one point, while referring to the type of circumstances I have ou.tlined, he writes, "it is not the face of the scorpion that you should fear, he stings with his tail!" (On Consideration, 4.4.9.). The priest does not lead by giving directions, by pointing this way or that; he can point only in the direction he himself is going. Septentber-October 1994 679 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership The church leader must make fair decisions based on facts. However, our sensitivity to people makes us keenly aware that the network of staff members has its own version of whatever issue is currently on the table. They may be influenced by the behind-the-scenes subterfuge of colleagues, including fellow priests or religious. Because of the nature of the discussion we may not be free to offer a public rebuttal. When we discover such duplicity, will we let anger sour our disposition and provoke us to biased decisions? Will we be able to face the possibility that oth-ers have made judgments about us and our motivations? Will we begin to pin labels on certain segments of'the church? Will we ask to be removed prematurely from a job simply because it is not worth today's hassle? Will we lead? A final word about today's pervasive anger. As a healthy step toward growth many people have trained in techniques for assertiveness. That can be a good thing. However, :all too many settle for being assertive; rather than entering forthright conver-sation and working toward resolution of a conflict, they merely assert themselves, leaving in their wake the debris of their hostility. Unless assertiveness is marked by openness, desire for reconcili-ation and a willingness to forgive, it is just another way of push-ing people around. We are called to go beyond assertiveness to achieve understanding and forgiveness. When. I uncover assertive-ness within myself, I must pose this question: do I consciously or unconsciously abuse or manipulate people? The era of political correctness has witnessed the creation of a unique body of church jargon; it appears in mission statements, correspondence, minutes of meetings, and hallway conversation. There is nothing bad about that in itself; every profession devel, ops its own jargon. I find, however, that some church profes-sionals use "correct" words they do not fully understand. Collaboration and justice stand out in particular. Nothing is more healthful, respectful of persons, and theo-logically valid than striving for collaboration. It builds morale, insures ownership of a common mission, and promotes vitality in the. church. The gifts of the Spirit are for the common good, and the Spirit intends that we work together. However, there are kinds and times of confidential decision making which require a unilateral decision on the part of the leader or leadership group. Even in a system characterized as collaborative in usual circum-stances, some decisions must be made by leaders alone. In the 680 Review for Religious face of allegations of "lack of collaboration," the leader must nonetheless continue to lead. That a certain decision was of neces-sity made behind closed doors does not indicate that it was not made for the common good. Another popular charge is injustice. True injustice in church settings is deplorable, and leaders have a responsibility, to act justly. In the best of circumstances the exercise of justice is a formidable task. However, I have often heard the word unjust applied to sit-uations when it would have been more honest for the protester to have said, "I didn't agree with so-and-so's decision." The priest leader will recognize that at times he cannot win; sometimes the leader stands alone. He must have the resolute-ness not to rescind a good decision when faced with charges of lack of collaboration, poor communication, bad judgment, and stubbornness. He must also have the humility to be flexible when he realizes he has made a mistake. The Challenge to Generosity To be a leader in the church today is a daunting challenge, due in part to the characterizations I have listed above. Each dio-cese, parish, institution, or school is stamped with its own per-sonality and its own distinctive staff and clientele. It is an exciting time to be a leader in the church, with singular opportunities for growth in holiness. I begin this section with a series of questions every seminarian and priest could pose to himself. 1. Will I kiss the altar every day? Each day every priest bows to the altar at which he is to offer Mass, as an act of reverence for Christ, who is symbolized by the altar. The altar is a sacred symbol, whetheroit be made of stone or wood, or whether it stands in a magnificent cathedral or on a bloody battlefield. Its sacred meaning is so powerful that none of us should ever pass an altar without bowing to Christ present there. But the priest also kisses the altar. This is a very public gesture, made in the presence of those gathered for the Eucharist; it is at the same time an intensely private gesture, an act of affection, an act of submission, an act of love and trust. Even more to the point, the priest's kiss of the altar is an act of identification. He is pro-claiming to Christ, to himself, and to those assembled that it is Christ the Priest who makes him who he is. He kisses the altar which symbolizes the Lord himself, the sacrifice of Calvary, and September-October 1994 681 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership the table of the Last Supper. Everything he does flows from the altar and back to it. The kiss symbolizes his daily embrace of the sacrifice of Christ as his way of life, for on the day of his ordina-tion he was totally and irrevocably joined in character to Christ. Some days it is quite easy to kiss the altar. At his first Mass, the new priest knows the sheer joy of experiencing the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the hands of the bishop, the wonder at God's goodness in calling him to the priesthood. Who would not joy-fully kiss the sacred altar in gratitude for such undeserved blessing? Again and again the priest kisses the altar in celebration of the Sunday parish Mass, of weddings and anniversaries, of others' ordinations and gatherings of the church. He stands behind the altar, not because he i~ better than others but because he bears the identity of Christ, the only true Priest, who came not to be served but to serve. In reality, standing behind the altar is an act of humil-ity, a stance of service. There are also sad occasions at which the priest kisses the altar, when he leads God's people in prayer with Christ the con-soler, the one who knows our pain and the grief of death, the one who announced "Peace!" when he found his apostles gathered in fear after his resurrection from the dead. Av those times the priest stands with Christ, the giver of hope, who in times of difficulty trusted wholeheartedly in the providence of his Father. Sometimes when the priest kisses the altar only he himself knows the nature of the cross he bears. Perhaps he is keenly pained by the weight of his sinfulness, so his kiss symbolizes his need for Christ's mercy. Perhaps at other times his kiss is an act of the will and a prayer that Christ will help him understand the challenges he faces as a priest. Perhaps it is at times a simple act of love: "I love you, Christ, my Lord." At any time, and in any circumstance, the priest kisses the altar as a dramatic reminder of who he is and who he is called to imitate. Will I kiss the altar every day? 2. Am I willing to be led? The first and primary commitment of the priest is to pray. Whether we consider ourselves seasoned pray-ers is not the point. Help is available in the form of good reading material and spiri-tual direction, and it is never too late to begin. Any priest who dares to take on a responsibility in the name of God and the church without a simultaneous commitment to daily prayer will soon find that he is an empty well. If I am a steward, how can I 682 Review for Religious give what I do not take the tittle to receive? If I am a preacher of the word of God, how can I speak of what I do not take the time to hear? If I want to lead in the ways of God, how can I do so without assuring I am first being led? Concern for a particular style of prayer likewise sidesteps the point; God works with me as I am. But I must begin (again?), and if I have not yet begun, I should begin today. Karl Rahner once told seminarians at the University of Innsbruck that if we wait until we feel like praying, we will rarely pray. As Bernard writes to Eugene about his duties as pope, he is very aware of the hazards of his friend's busy office. Eugene has been taken from his monastic milieu and placed at the head of the church's administration. His temptation is to give himself so completely to his new duties that he has no time for himself and no time for God. He is new enough at the job to still feel uncomfortable with the hectic pace of his life; Bernard's fear is that Eugene will settle into his heavy schedule and become so calloused and habituated to an unreflective life that he will no longer realize that his acceptance of relentless busyness is not a sign of inner peace, but of hardness of heart. "It is not the virtue of patience to permit yourself to be enslaved when you can be free . Are you less a slave because you serve not one but all. ? [1.4.5.] I praise your devotion to humanity, but only if it be complete. Now, how can it be complete when you have excluded yourself?. You too are human . You also should drink from the waters of your well . If you are a stranger to yourself, to whom are you not?" [On Consideration, 1.5.6]~ In prayer we discover who we are. In prayer God nourishes us with food of real substance and changes us in ways hidden even to ourselves. In prayer we return over and again to the source of our vocation and gradually begin to take on the likeness of Christ who is our true self. We will ask for guidance in specific circum-stances; but true discernment takes place not when I demand of God, "Tell me what to do!" but when in openness of heart and generosity of spirit I simply allow myself to be led by the Holy Spirit, with no expectation or goal other than to become his instrument in all things. 3. Am I willing to be a leader? This question is more complex than it first sounds, for it goes beyond one's willingness to take on a job, to be in charge, or one's capacity to accept or claim responsibility. More fundamentally, September-October 1994 683 Sartain * The Challenge of Priestly Leadership it means "am I willing to give of myself to this endeavor, this parish, this school--knowing that I am also accepting a great bur-den-- because I believe in its mission, value its growth, and love its people? .Am I willing to be a leader when it is fun and when it is painful? .Am I willing to take time and effort to communi-cate, to care, to consult, to weigh tough choices, and to decide?" "Am I willing to take a firm stand when necessary, knowing that the opposition may be fierce? . Am I willing to abide the mistrust and misunderstanding of authority prevalent in our society, and in the church? . Am I willing to admit my mistakes? . Am I willing to admit that as a leader I am a public person and thus a frequent topic of discussion?" When a newly ordained priest begins to realize that he is regarded as a leader, he notices that people relate to him in a new way, particularly if he is the final word on a decision. He is star-tled that some people, are suspicious of him, even coworkers and friends with whom he has previously worked. His protestations to the contrary, some will insist that he has changed simply because he has been ordained to the priesthood. Often p~ople project upon leaders whatever unpleasant experiences they have had with authority figures. The leader becomes the embodiment of all that made them angry or distrustful in the past; I become the cranky pastor, the mean nun from grade school, the unfair principal from high school, or the uncaring coach. Such projection is blatantly unfair and unmerited, and in reaction we strive to alleviate the suspicion of authority by our efforts at good Christian leader-ship. Unfortunately, we must accept the fact that such efforts will not always work. %then we assume a position of leadership, some will relate to us in a strained, unsettling way. Are we willing to live with such change, or will we constantly frustrate ourselves by try-ing to change others' attitudes,~over which ultimately we have no control? Experience tells me that most people are supportive day-to-day. However, some tend to forget that leaders are people, too. We have feelings, anxieties, needs, just like everyone else; but angry parents or anonymous letter writers ignore our feelings and are unconcerned about our preoccupations. They have something to say, and they want us to listen, period. The father of a sixth grader can enter my office, deposit his anger and complaints at my feet, and leave. If the meeting has not resolved all of his con-cerns, he has the satisfaction of knowing that he has lobbed the 684 Review for Religious bomb in the appropriate direction! But what about me? After I close the rectory door, I am left to myself in the midst of his rub-ble. Such experiences give me pause to consider my motivation for accepting the leadership role: Was it the prestige of the job? Was it to be well thought of?. Was it to be congratulated on hav-ing attained an exalted position? If so, the first onslaught of criticism will be devastating. Did I assume this position only because my bishop appointed me to it? At some point I must claim it as mine or I am doomed to misery and resentment. Priests are public property. We are delighted when parishioners remem-ber our birthdays and anniversaries, but we are chagrined to learn that they also know the license plate number of our cars, the name of the restaurant where we dined two weeks ago (as well as the names of our companions), and the gist of the disagreement we are rumored to have had with the sacristan last month. Our whereabouts on Friday evenings and during vaca-tions are the topics of conversation at coffee klatches; most of the time the conversations are harmless, but sometimes they are malicious. Thus one of the major adjustments facing the newly ordained priest is the experience of our fishbowl lifestyle. Priestly leadership is not anonymous but public, and we cannot expect to disappear into the woodwork once ordained. The challenge is to create the balance of privacy which rejuvenates us for the public nature of our ministry. It should not surprise us that people talk about us, nor should it surprise us when we occasionally discover those who are preoccupied with us. 4. Am I willing to see this work as constitutive of my call to holiness? Am I willing to view my particular ministry not just as what God wants me to do (the assignment God has given me!), but as the very means he will use to make me holy? When I begin to see my work as the very context in which Godwill make me holy, whatever challenges and frustrations I experience along the way take on a new meaning. They are no longer obstacles to happiness "Am I willing to admit that as a leader I am a public person and thus a frequent topic of discussion ?" September-October 1994 685 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership but means to growth; they are no longer occasions for exposure of my dark side but God's hopeful call to conversion. There is a flip side to this series of questions: For whom am I doing this work? For myself? For others? Or for God? My answer to that question will in large measure determine my suc-cess and sense of well-being in carrying out the work. If I am doing it for any reason other than the love of God and his peo-ple, I will never know joy in the work, and the work will never be a means of growth in holiness for me. Until I embrace the truth that God has called me to this leadership role, I will not enjoy the fullness of his grace and the love that he shows me through the work. Our motives are rarely pure; we are a mix of motivations and hidden agenda. We need not be surprised at our duplicity, for from the midst of our mixed motives God calls us to contin-ually refocus our attention on his love and his people. St. Augustine begins his Sermon on Pastors with the follow-ing words: I must distinguish "carefully between two aspects of the role the Lord has given me, a role that demands a rigorous accountability, a role based on the Lord's greatness rather than on my own merit. The first aspect is that I am a Christian; the second, that I am a leader. I am a Christian for my own sake, whereas I am a leader for your sake; the fact that I am a Christian is to nay own advantage, but I am a leader for your advantage. Many persons come to God as Christians but not as leaders. Perhaps they travel by an easier road and are less hindered since they bear a lighter burden. In addition to the fact that I am a Christian and must give God an account of my life, I as a leader must give him an account of my stewardship as well (Sermon 46, 1-2). ". I am a leader for your sake." God uses priests as his instrument in dealing with others in particular circumstances. That is a cause for humility, not pride, for the role is based on the Lord's greatness rather than on our merit. Priestly leadership is a function of stewardship, the stewardship of a disciple, a servant. I have something to give--but what I have to contribute is itself God's gift to 'me. As Paul wrote, "Name something you have that you did not receive" (1 Cor 4,7). Moreover, as Rabbi Abraham Heschel observed, "What we own, we owe."" I am a steward. Vocations are often viewed in terms of "giving up." One "gives up" this or that in light of a higher good. There is a danger in dwelling on that perspective, for if I focus on what I am giving up, 686 Review for Religious I will eventually succumb to anger and resentment. If I were preparing to be married and announced to my fiancee, "I'm giv-ing up a lot for you, but you're worth it," she would be justified in saying, "then. keep it!" If a priest says the same to God, God would be justified to reply, "Come back when you've forgotten about giving up and are ready to give." My response to God's call is my willingness to give completely of myself, in response to his goodness to me. Is that not what Jesus did? Did he not recognize that he too was a steward of the Father's gifts, of the Father's will? Every Christian vocation is a reflection of the gratuitous self-giving of God; only a commit-ment that is consciously made, sure and focused, can be a limpid mirror, an image of the Invisible. It is precisely here that the church Fathers saw the true mean-ing of martyrdom and sacrifice. A sacrifice is some treasure which I remove irrevocably from my use and offer to God as a sign of my inner gift of self. In burning the first fruits or the choicest animals, I give them away with no strings attached. This is conscious and voluntary giving and not giving up; the sacrifice of Jesus was his conscious and voluntary gift of himself to the Father for our sake. It is difficult to give without expecting anything in return, but it is that giving to which we are called. Another gauge of my vocation is the following question: 7b vabom am I giving myself completely? Until I have a firm grasp on the answer to that question, I will remain a bag of mixed motives, and I will measure my successes by the wrong yardstick. I will add a postscript to this section. While we must be care-ful not to focus on what we have given up in accepting our cur-rent role in the church, we should be cognizant of any giving up that our lay coworkers have done in accepting the tasks of min-istry; we recognize their sacrifice and thank both them and God for it. God is grateful for our gifts, and we are stewards of his gratitude as well. 5. ~lm I ~villing to work through my inevitable disenchantment? Our vocation is lived in the real world, where Christian val-ues and the gospel itself are often compromised, or at least imper-fectly incarnated in people like [~s. Life is not perfect, and I must come to terms with imperfection--that of the church, of my supe-riors and co-workers, and my own. Most of us who work with the church go through experiences of disenchantment. We have high ideals and lofty goals; we love our September-October 1994 687 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership work. We are enchanted by the mystery and beauty of the mission we have accepted. What happens when I see the clay feet of the church, when I confront the difficulty of living out God's call? Disenchantment can occasion some unsettlingoquestions. Why should I try at all? No one else seems to be trying. V~as my ide-alism childish illusion? Those who are asking me to do a job are making it difficult for me to accomplish the task! I may be dis-tressed by the behavior of my superiors or coworkers or by my own behavior. At such times I am called to recommit myself to the ideals of the gospel and to practice mercy, one of the more diffi-cult virtues. Anger is often justified, and disillusionment under-standable, but of what value are they if not used for go~d? Disenchantment can be transformed into renewed commit-ment, a deepened self-giving. It is a tangible way to enter into the sacrifice God made in taking on human form, for in our own disenchantment we touch the embarrassing humility~of God, who was willing to embody his perfect love in our imperfect nature, The "self-emptying" of the Son of God of which Paul wrote to the Philippians, is the voluntary "disenchantment of God," who took on our nature conscious of what fragile and misshapen vessels we are., In our disenchantment we are reminded of the profound humility of God and our absolute dependence on his grace. There but for God's grace go we--for we may be the cause of another's disenchantment. Are our hearts big enough, to embrace the humility of God? Some Practical Exl~ortations i. Always rentain consciously and practically rooted in the founda-tions of the priesthood: the Word of God and the Eucharist. Recent years have witnessed the evolution of specializations in almost every field of endeavor. On the one hand, such a phenomenon is the positive by-product of explosive developments in science and medicine; on the other hand, when seen in the priesthood it can become a tempting trap. The priest who is preoccupied with seek-ing his "niche" in the church--his specialization--may very well forget who he is. The priest is ontologically and irrevocably linked to Christ and the church; thus he is the one who prays, serves, sacrifices, cel-ebrates the Eucharist, absolves, heals--lives!--in the person of Christ. That is "who he is." His ministry may take a very partic- 688 Review for Religious ular direction--one that may last a lifetime or one that may change frequently; but any job he undertakes, any niche he dis-covers, is secondary to who he is in Christ. A pastor may wish to develop new and innovative programs for his parish, programs that fill in the gaps and address newly-discovered needs. But if he does not at the same time consciously identify himself with the Eucharistic Christ, he loses the depth and richness of his min-istry; and his people are deprived of the church's fundamental gifts. The priest is consecrated for his specialty, his niche, at ordi-nation; his speciality is his Christ-identity. 2. Remember that sloppy management and procrastination hurt people. Every morning more mail arrives to be piled on the stack already on my desk; there is yet another form to fill out, another phone call to return, statistical research to undertake for the chancery (the sins of nay past have returned to haunt me!). For many priests, such tasks are repulsive because they seem to bear no relation to ministry. They are unrelated to the real-life situa-tions of flesh-and-blood parishioners. At times I have been careless in responding to these tasks, only to discover that ultimately my laxity hurt someone. Perhaps the form I was remiss in completing was a job reference; or the phone call I procrastinated in returning was related to a com-plaint unfairly registere'd about a coworker, and my tardiness meant that his or her reputation needlessly suffered. Perhaps the research requested of me was crucial to a grant proposal for a new ministry in the diocese. At some point I began to attach human faces to the tedium, which reminded me that such tasks would ultimately help persons (in most cases, at least!). Now my motivation is stronger to com-plete tasks at the proper time. 3. Don't give someone a difficult job but make it difficult to com-plete. I have purposely posed a positive principle in a negative fash-ion in order to emphasize a point. When I delegate a difficult task---for example, I ask the principal to develop a balanced school budget--I do not release myself of the responsibility to make it work. I have observed church administrators establish an adver-sarial relationship with those to whom they had delegated a diffi-cult job. When I delegate I am not abdicating responsibility; on the contrary, I am pledging cooperation and understanding, and I may be acknowledging that I do not possess the skills required to com-plete the task. We demoralize parishioners and coworkers when we ~eptember-October 1994 689 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership make requests of them and then place unreasonable restrictions on their performance. We also demoralize others when we assign them a task that is simply impossible to complete. 4. Don't give someone a job you know the person will shirk; then you get angry when the job isn't done. Chuang Tzu, a Taoist philoso-pher of the 3rd century B.C., understood this truth. One of the most famous of all Chuang Tzu's "principles" is that called "three in the morning," from the story of the monkeys whose keeper planned to give them three mea-sures of chestnuts in the morning and four in the evening but, when they complained, changed his plan and gave them four in the morning and three in the evening. What does the story mean? Simply that the monkeys were foolish and that the keeper cynically outsmarted them? Quite the contrary. The point is rather that the keeper had enough sense to recognize that the monkeys had irrational reasons of their own for wanting four measures of chesmuts in the morning, and did not stubbornly insist on his original arrangement. He was not totally indifferent, and yet he saw that an acci-dental difference did not affect the substance of his arrange-ment. Nor did he waste time demanding that the monkeys try to be "more reasonable" about it when monkeys are not expected to be reasonable in the first place. It is when we insist most firmly on everyone else being "reasonable" that we become, ourselves, unreasonable? It is unfair to ask someone to undertake a task for which the per-son is unsuited. A good leader matches task to talent. 5. Say "yes" when you mean "yes" and "no" when you mean "no." There is no substitute for clarity in communication with cowork-ers and parishioners. If I speak in circles out of reluctance to deal with conflict or my fear of taking a stand, it will o~nly serve to confuse others. Eventually they will be angry with me, and their anger is justified. I will have led them nowhere. 6. Don't harbor unrealistic expectations of superiors. Leaders have superiors, and priests deal with senior priests, pastors, deans, vicars, and bishops; we owe them the accommodation and open-mindedness we expect fi'om others. 7. Don't take it personally. Some things will inevitably go awry, but seldom are mishaps directed intentionally at us. Life simply does not always work out the way we wish it would. When we meet failure it is important to remember that there is no clan-destine plot to make us miserable. Moreover, we may frequently deal with people at their worst, 690 Review for Religious and from time to time may find ourselves walking into a mael-strom of anger. Anger directed at us is often displaced anxiety about what is happening at home, a sense of powerlessness over a difficult child, a troubled marriage, or a lost job. Don't take it personally! We may be the object of the anger, but we are prob-ably not its root cause. Such experiences can be channeled as a means of growth in compassion; a discerning ear and heart can help heal at the root. 8. Nurture in your heart a deliberate commitment to human respect. After God, people come first. Are you willing to learn to love? The highest value to a leader is the human person: the neighbor, the brother, the sister. Spend time with the people with whom you work. Take time to console a grieving friend. Slow down to listen to the one who needs to talk. Be big enough to forgive, let go of grudges. Be first to extend a hand in friendship and last to judge. Be attentive to the little things in others' lives. Be mindful of birth-days and anniversaries, family tragedy, illness and hardship. Learn compassion and foster reconciliation. When reading the newspaper, notice first the names of people, then the statistics. Joyfully embrace sacrifice, faith, family, friends, and the one in need. 9. Temper all things. Priests are called both to challenge oth-ers to a better way of life and to reflect God's mercy when they fail. If we make the challenge needlessly harsh, it will discour-age; if we confuse mercy with permissiveness, it will encourage stagnation. The Rule of St. Benedict offers wise counsel to abbots in this regard: Therefore, drawing on . . . examples of discretion, the mother of all virtues, he must so temper all things that the strong may have something to strive for, and the weak noth-ing to dismay them (RB 64,19). 10. Recognize that as a priest you are also a leader within the pres-byterate. No priest is a free agent; by virtue of ordination we form phrt of a presbyterate and share in the pastoral role of our bishop. This article has been primarily concerned with the priest's leadership role in day-to=day ministry; what has not yet been said Priests are called both to challenge others to a better way of life and to reflect God's mercy when they fail. September-October 1994 691 Sartain ¯ The Challenge of Priestly Leadership is that we undertake the tasks of ministry in union with the pres-byterate. That is not simply a theological truth;' it is also a practi-cal challenge to strive for unity with our bishop and brother priests. It is more important for me to live in union with the pres-byterium than to be alone and absorbed in my work.4 But there is something more to add to this reflection. It has been my assumption that every priest is a leader; it is equally important to remember that every priest is a leader within the presbyterate. Dioceses and religious communities have devised structures to address the pastoral ministry and care of priests; there are pres-byteral councils, personnel boards, vicars for clergy, mentors, and the like. However, it is a great mistake to assume that only those who hold elected or appointed positions are leaders within the presbyterate. The most important leadership within the pres-byterate is that which springs spontaneously from fraternal love, the care of priest for priest. Some Final Considerations St. Bernard's second book On Consideration was written for Pope Eugene after the failure of the second crusade, for which Bernard himself had preached at the pope's behest. Bernard is aware that people will blame them for this dis-aster. He says he did what he thought was right., and he is willing to take the blame rather than have people murmur against God (2.1-1-4). He says this from the standpoint of one who does not need to be successful at every turn. A career is not the end all and be all of life: Virtues are more important than honors or results (2.7.14)'. "Plant, water, be concerned, and you have done your part" (4.2.2)~s Our daily tasks are the invisible path to holiness; but in the end, they are all God's work. When I was named Chancellor/Moderator of the Curia of my diocese, a fellow priest presented me with an essay entitled "The Penalty of Leadership," which first appeared in the Saturday Evening Post 2 January 1915, as an advertisement for Cadillac Motor Car Company. It begins: 692 Review for Religious In eve~ field of human endeavor, he that is first must per-petually live in the white light of publicity. Whether the leadership be vested in a man or in a manufactured product, emulation and envy. are ever at work. In art, in literature, in music, in industry, the reward and the punishment are always the same. The reward is widespread recognition; the punishment, fierce denial and detraction. Its author, Theodore MacManus, explains that the leader coura-geously upholds an enduring standard against the outcry of those who cannot comprehend lasting value. That is part of the penalty of leadership. Every priest finds that he is faced with similar chal-lenges; but for him leadership is worth its penalty., for he sees his position as a vocation, and he knows how profoundly he relies on the grace of God. Genuine leadership is determined neither by market share, nor by publicity, nor by power, nor by Gallup poll, but by the quality. of the heart. It is understood only by those willing to learn the meaning of the word sacrifice. Jesus did not tell his disciples not to aspire to leadership; rather, he said, "if you aspire to be leaders, then learn to serve." Learn great skills, make great plans, strive to improve. Butat the same time, learn to serve, to sacrifice for some-thing greater than yourself, for someone other than yourself. In the final analysis there is no penalty in leadership for the one who loves God and neighbor. The one who loves knows that loving is its own reward. And the one who struggles to love as Jesus loved will find unimagined fulfillment. And the church will gather courage and hope and grace from that kind of priestly leadership. Notes ~ Hugh Feiss OSB, "The Spirituality. of St. Bernard for Managers," Cistercian Studies XXV, no. 4, 1990: 271. 2 Abraham Joshua Heschel, Who is Man? (Stanford University Press, 1965), p. 112. 3 Thomas Merton, The Way of Chuang Tzu (New York: Ne~v Directions, 1969), p. 32. 4 Gisbert Greshake, The Meaning of Christian Priesthood (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1988), p. 167 [quotatiou from "Instead of an epilogue: Ten principles for a priest's life pattern," proposed by Prof. Dr. ~,~. Breuning and Bishop Dr. KI. Hemmerle]. s Feiss, p. 273. September-October 1994 693 CATHERINE M. HARMER Election: A Call to Service One of the elements of apostolic religious life which has :hanged since the renewal period following Vatican Council II is the selection of leadership. Prior to the council most positions of leadership were appointed, the exceptions being supe-riors general, their councillors, and chapter delegates. Even when provincial chapters elected provincial superiors it was, in many cases, more accurately a nomination to be confirmed by the gen-eral council. Regional superiors and local superiors were appointed, with little if any input from the membership. Today many leadership positions are filled through election by the members, even when a confirmation is needed at another level. This movement toward greater participation of the members in the choice of their leadership has had both positive and nega-tive aspects associated with it. Most of the dire predictions about the decline in quality of the leaders chosen have not come to pass. There are, however, some unpredicted difficulties which continue to cause problems. In this article I will look at some of the back-ground of those problems and suggest a helpful discernment model. Even a cursory analysis of constitutions and directories of congregations shows that many more positions of leadership are now elected, often directly by the members. Thus, local, area or regional leaders, provincials and their councillors, and in a few cases generals and their councillors are directly elected by the Catherine M. Harmer MMS has worked as a consultant and facilitator for various religious congregations' chapters. Her address is Medical Mission Sisters; 300 W. Wellens Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19120. 694 Review for Religious members. Where direct election is not the case, there are strong nominating processes which are considered seriously by chapters or other electoral bodies. What is more interesting than the number of positions open to direct election is the increased openness about elections. In the past many of those who were the formal electors in fact held discussions among themselves and with the members about the potential leaders. This was informal, and when done responsibly, a way for the electors to broaden their own knowledge of the potential candidates. When done with less responsibility it had some of the characteristics of the "smoke-filled rooms" of the old American political system. Now, it is generally the practice to have the members involved in the selection process by means of suggestion or nominating lists. In some cases these suggestions are connected to predetermined criteria or to rationales given for a nomination. While there are definite values in this openness, a fear of "campaigning" has arisen. Some members are reluctant to be named in a process that might require them to submit to ques-tioning or to present a personal position regarding the office. Another growing concern is the reality that many elections are held with the majority of those who were nominated removing their names from the list prior to the election. I would like to address several of these problem areas in more detail, then look in a new way at the nature of election in religious congregations, and finally make some suggestions concerning the whole nature and the processes involved in election by members. Areas of Concern One current problem also existed in the time of limited involvement of the members. It is the connection in the minds of some religious between being chosen or not chosen and their own self-image. Even today at the time of election of chapter del-egates there are those who suffer a sense of not being appreci-ated because they are not chosen. In the business world one often measures one's self worth by salary and position within the com-pany. To be passed over is often a sign that it is t

Issue 51.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1992. ; for religious Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 3 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universio,., by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the "Canonical Counsel" department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 V~;ashington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Senti address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, anti additional offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5.00 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription information and mailing costs. ©1992 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe David J. Hassel SJ Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY/JUNE 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 3 contents life choices 326 A Monastic Way in the World Theresa Mancuso tells of the monasticism she has found herself continuing to live now for ten years in New York City, ever since she left her monastery in upstate New York. 337 I Leap Back Over the Wall Corey S. Van Kuren OFMCap offers reflections on his experience of reentering a religious community. 341 Why We Stay Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ presents a personal witness to a lasting commitment to the religious vocation. 347 When a Sister or Brother Leaves Melannie Svoboda SND offers personal reflections on the departure from religious life of a lifelong friend. transitions 356 The Integral Sabbatical Brian B. McClorry SJ blends the traditional sabbatical elements of coursework and reading with time in a remote wilderness and discovers the riches of the ordinary. 373 Using Ignatian Discernment Philip L. Boroughs SJ applies the Ignatian principles for discernment to a person in a time of transition. scripture and spiritual life 388 A Woman's Compassionate and Discerning Heart Mary Lou Cranston CND examines the compassionate heart of the. woman in 1 Kings 3 as a model for understanding discernment and its relationship to religious obedience and governance. 397 Peter's Characterization in Luke-Acts Lola M. Wells proposes that a unified reading of Luke-Acts provides a valuable portrait of individual discipleship. 3 2 2 Review for Religious 403 Petitionary Prayer in a Biblical Perspective John H. Zupez SJ reflects on the constant value of petitionary prayer especially through a more mature way of entering into our Scriptures. 408 Hasidism, Creation, and the Psalms Joseph Fichtner OSC, guided by the Hasidic tradition, finds in the Psalms an awe-filled creation spirituality alert to the Creator's presence and power. devotional life 417 Marian Spirituality and Apparitions Walter T. Brennan OSM suggests that the proliferation of Marian apparitions leaves us living in a gray area of pastoral judgment and practice, but paradoxically gray is full of color. 424 The Mirror Image in Clare of Assisi Sister Karen Karper develops how Clare presents Christ as the mirror of one's own deepest identity and its apostolic implications. charism and mission 432 Reclaiming Competence Theresa M. Monroe RSCJ indicates that some careful limits and boundaries would protect the creativity our times demand of religious institutes. 453 Restructuring William F. Hogan CSC points out that restructuring in religious congregations must balance the twofold need to maintain institutional essentials and to adapt to the challenges of the mission. 458 reflection Why Claude la Colombi~re? John A. McGrail SJ uses the canonization of Claude la Colombi~re to consider the roots and contemporary value of devotion to the Sacred Heart. departments 324 Prisms 461 Canonical Counsel: Voluntary Exclaustration 469 Book Reviews May-j~une 1992 323 prisms Pope John Paul II seems to be setting a record in saint making. In his various missionary travels, he frequently celebrates the ritual of beatification or can-onization of a woman or man recognized for holiness by the local people. Some are critical of this making of saints. "Out of step with the times," they say. Others just wonder why. We human beings need our heroes and heroines. The stories of women and men who have captured our minds and hearts because of their bravery, their dedicated service, their contribution to a more humane world have been told in every culture and in every age. The names change, the circumstances differ, but the inspiration for human living remains the same. We all seem to be searching for a glimpse or two of heroism not too far from home. Yet some fear or some reluctance appears to stifle, early on, our own desire for the heroic. Various factors may contribute to this reluc-tance. Perhaps pop psychology, too readily imbibed as Gospel, has made us too content with being the ordinary persons we are, too willing to be coddled into a generic self-esteem. Or when heroes are proposed, a mean spirit in us and in our culture may drive us to search out ways to cut these people back down to ordinary size . . . or less. Maybe such behavior flows from a poorly idealized pro-letarian spirit which is a communist residue in us all. Often it seems that heroes or heroines are quickly raised up and 324 Review fbr Relig4ous just as quickly forgotten. Perhaps our enthusiasm for their exam-ple and their deeds lasts no longer than the music or video of the moment. Then, too, we probably fear the disappointment of the hero or heroine letting us down; we surely fear the cost of hero-ism for ourselves. Despite such stifling factors or because of them, our need for inspiring heroism to permeate our everyday world in the living example of contemporary women and men remains. The vari-ous spiritual traditions in the church have been first enfleshed in the lives of women and men before they came to be written down as programs for the following of Christ. Life and ministry shone out in persons with names and faces before any rule or constitu-tions were formulated. There comes a time in every spirituality when structures or formulas or written theological treatises are essential if it is to become a heritage or tradition within the church community. A common way that particular spiritualities have been institutionalized has been through the foundation of religious congregations. Religious life does not exist as a generic reality, but only in particular embodiments, each with its own approved rule of life, an organized spiritual tradition. A religious rule of life, then, not only provides for the identity of a particular reli-gious family as a legitimate form of following Christ, but also ¯ brings that family's prophetic voice to the harmonies and coun-terpoints of the church on earth. The danger of any heritage arises when it becomes a tomb or sculpted sarcophagus, beautiful in its form, but containing disconnected bones devoid of breath. Only heroes and heroines make spiritualities live. Can people live heroic lives in an unheroic age? The answer obviously lies with us. No matter what our spirituality or her-itage may be, the people who embody it for us retain an impor-tance beyond a brilliant theoretical study of a particular charism or some wonderfully fashioned new constitutions. Saints, both old and new, hold out to us the promise that this kind of a fol-lowing of Christ is humanly possible. Requiring a little heroism, perhaps, but humanly possible. Our church and our world need heroes and heroines. Anyone of us who is serious about the spiritual heritage we try to live rec-ognizes the call within it to be heroic. To paraphrase Chesterton, it is not so much that heroism has been tried in our day and found wanting; rather, today we try so little to be heroic. .David L. Fleming SJ May-3~une 1992 325 life choices THERESA MANCUSO A Monastic Way in the World Into the darkness of a cold winter's night, I peer quietly from my third-floor window, reflective after the day's work. Gathering up my briefcase and tightening my gray woolen scarf close about my face, I leave the office and head up Lafayette Street towards the "M" train. This is the evening part of my daily routine, the trip home from work. Upstate far away the semantron sounds over halcyon hills of white birch. Monks and nuns make ready to answer the call of the monastery bell which will soon follow the hol-low rhythm of the semantron. Donning black choir robes, they will take their places for Vespers. Ancient chants will blend harmoniously with the whistling mountain wind as it purrs along the windows of the monastery church. Still living my self-imposed exile of a decade, I walk through the darkening streets of lower Manhattan as falling snow shimmers softly about the dim street lights. I hear down-town church bells chiming six o'clock. The old nostalgia rises as I hustle down broken concrete steps into.the cold, damp tunnel, far from the candlelight kingdom of my monastery home. The "M" train screeches into the sta-tion, jamming to a stop along the drab platform. Doors fling open and I rush to board, jostled by the crowd, my fellow travelers, all scrambling for a seat. Everything monastic, everything I love, is far away and long removed, Theresa Mancuso has been a member of an active religious order and of.a monastic community. She has published on wide-ranging topics 'including religious education, elder abuse, and criminal probation. She lives at 448 Seventh Avenue; Brooklyn, New York 11215. 326 Review for Religious but I carry it still in my heart. Here in the streets of the city or deep beneath them hurling through subterranean corridors on hard cold rails of steel, I ponder the Desert Fathers and the vows I made years ago while walking in their pathways. Every day, five days out of seven, I begin and end my travels at Union Street station in the underside of Park Slope, Brooklyn. It is a poor neighborhood unreclaimed by urban renewal. Trash and waste clutter its curbs and sidewalks, a place where immigrants cling tena-ciously to the fringes of hope that carried them from their homes in Ecuador, Nicaragua, Puerto Rico, parts of Asia, Africa, and Eastern Europe. They work hard here and live hard, struggling to make it on Union Street. These are my neigh-bors and I am theirs. Amid the drama of daily life unfolding here with its stark reality calling me toward a new wisdom, I park my car and climb down the subway steps to board the train to and from Manhattan. Every morning and every evening my meditation begins and ends here, my earnest prayer rising from the cold and lonely street. The crowded train on weekday mornings teaches me much of patience and endurance. Pushing, shoving, sweating, shivering, they board, riders of this underground iron horse, travel-weary as they squeeze into place. Once settled, the subway people sink into watchful silence, hardly raising their eyes yet ever on guard. Destinies mingle here in this place where the sun does not shine and danger is always just a breath away. Muggings and murder are familiar specters in the New York City subway. The security of the monastery is a dream-like state, a fading unfamiliar mem-ory. There is no security here. Here one rides in the arms of Divine Providence, wrapped in total abandonment under the pro-tection of the Mother of God. There are no promises of personal safety in the darkness of this daily voyage underneath the city. I often look about and see prayer happening on the faces of many fellow travelers. Some'read Scripture, openly holding a small Bible on their laps; some say the rosary, while others sit straight with hands folded in the perfect posture of meditation. How true ring the words that rise in my heart as the train rushes forward, "Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us." I often look about and see prayer happening on the faces of many fellow travelers. May-.~une 1992 327 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic V~ay in the IVorld Dirt and discomfort surround me as I call upon the assistance of the Holy Spirit to quiet my soul and prepare my mind to reflect more deeply on that which alone is nec.es~ary. In this, the most unlikely of places, I have learned to make my daily prayer. Well I remember the daily formula used in my earliest experience of religious life, when the superior commenced the community's prayer time with the words: "Let us place ourselves in the pres-ence of God and ask the assistance of the H?ly Spirit to make our meditation well." These words speak themselves in my mind as the subway train runs along the track. The harsh screech of iron wheels blazing along the curved track under the East River assaults my ears as my mind focuses on interior prayer. My eyes meet a kaleidoscope of society, fellow travelers scurrying like ants on their way to anyplace but here. They are part of the collage of prayer that rises in my heart. Sometimes I wrestle with truths of the spiritual life learned in the safe, secure society of robed monks and nuns and I try to apply those truths to today's society, neither safe nor secure. What is monasticism if not the road to repentance? And what is this daily voyage in the belly of the earth if not a journey of repentance? I study my companions .along t_fie way, for they will often teach me without saying a word. Busines~ men and women dressed in smart somber suits, their briefcases clutched with pro-found importance--their presence awakens me to the cries of sec-ular society. I watch students and tourists with backpacks loaded on their shoulders, leftover hippies with long hair tied in greasy ponytails. I observe ill-clad .teenagers late for school or playing hookey, perhaps, instead. The sea of humanity that ebbs and flows around me leads me deeper into contemplation of the Creator who knows them all, each by name, who reads the secrets of their hearts and hears their every longing. My fellow riders are of every race, religion, color, size, and descriptign. Together we hurl through tl~is iron tube deep in the belly of darkness. The homeless are here, too, dreary and desolate, fighting a daily battle with hunger, told, and desperation. They live on the subway trains or ride them until they are evicted, for here at least there is some warmth and shelter from the outdoor elements. Coffee cups are freqtiently extended in their dirty hands under hungry, sad, defeated eyes. What can they not teach me of poverty and penance? Indeed, I am embarrassed at the luxuries I knew in the monastery while they, the poor and dispossessed, not 328 Review for Religiog~ by vow but by reality, have perhaps not for one instant in a life-time known real comfort, security, or personal safety. They force me to reexamine everything I once took for granted. I count their sufferings in vacant eyes and in the biting fatigue on faces worn and haggard. They call me to deeper repentance without saying a single word, me who have enjoyed so much of what they lack. Outside the protection and security of the religious life, outside the shelter of community, I have come to new terms with reality, to understand at last what it really means to have no one and nothing but God. Sometimes the subway poor wander through the train speak-ing loudly, interrupting our smug self-centered silence. We are reading, we are thinking, we are silent; they are begging. They ask for change or a dollar perhaps if they feel lucky. But straphanger charity is always unpredictable. Accursed with misfortune, they ride side by side with the powerful and privileged while I, look-ing from one to the other, remember that poverty has many faces. I see it there, poverty, even among the rich, poverty of spirit and of morals, poverty of faith, bankruptcy of the soul. My heart is forced to consider the meaning of poverty in vows I took so long ago and the poverty I practice today, for after all some kind of poverty is essential to the monastic life. But everything is differ-ent now; I understand for the first time in my life the struggle for survival others must face. When I offer one of them the small and meager gift of a dollar or a dime, I know that I am here not for the purpose of teaching them but in order that I may learn. So different from the monastery classroom, this too is an education of the heart. When I left the monastery ten years ago, I fully expected to abandon forever the life I had known, for twenty-five years, the religious life. I thought I was headed for secular society, for free-dom and promise in a world without restrictions and restraints, away from the rigors of community life with all its pain and heartache. I came to New York City at the recommendation of the metropolitan. But, once here, I soon realized that I had only taken the nun out of the monastery, not out of me. All my experiments with other lifestyles served to teach me that monastic life was rooted far deeper and more intensely in my heart than I had ever dreamed. My spiritual journey continued 'far from the support of monastery routine, far from the view of the monastery community. May-.~une 1992 329 Mancuso ¯ ~1 Monastic Way in the World Indeed I found myself living alone the same monastic life I lived in the community. All I had read in years gone by concerning the Camaldolese in the West and ideorhythmic monks in the East began to make great sense to me. Could I survive spiritually as a monastic living in the world? I sought a spiritual teacher and could not find one. Then I found one, strange and unexpected, in New York City; not a per-son, but a phenomenon: this daily ride on hard cold rails of steel. The New York Subway System, harsher than the sternest spiritual father, pulled me from the gutter of despair in the dismal winter of 1981. It dragged me down the cold dark tunnel of despon-dency and forced me to choose between life and death. There I was forced to cling to God with all my might lest I fall from the subway platform by my own step and crash on the tracks below in the path of the roaring train. Ten years have healed that broken-ness. A new hunger awakened within me. A new spiritual jour-ney began as I recommited myself to the monastic way. My search for monasticism in the city led me to understand that what I needed was monasticism of the heart. I knew I could not go back before I grew up, and perhaps never. What I needed more than ever before in my life was an authentic spirituality, a genuine monasticism, for now I was a nun without a monastery, alone in a world I did not know or understand. My new cloister was the streets of the city; my new obedience, an obedience to reality and the obligations of survival. The cold, hard teacher I had found was the subway itself---with no name, no face, and no heart and demanding of me complete abandonment and total surrender to God. It spoke to me as surely as any spiritual teacher I have ever known. It spoke because my whole being was listening. I was searching with all my heart. That is what great spiritual longing does; it opens every fiber .of one's being. Then one can truly hear. At last. One listens best when no more escapes are possible. Every day, morning and evening, I found myself grappling with the mysteries of faith and reality, struggling to discern the presence of God in the secular world. The milieu of faith I had known in religious life and took so much for granted was far behind me now. I had to create one in myself if I was to retain a spiritual focus in my life. In the personless hands of this tutelage, there was no protection, no one to turn to, no arms to hold me faint with fatigue. Fear loomed up over the darkness of my soul like fog on the docks of South Street Seaport. In the beginning I 330 Review far Religiaus was angry, depressed and bitter. Confusion reigned where once I thought I knew my purposes. Conflict raged. Gradually, from daily meditation and interior prayer deep in the darkness of the earth as I traveled the subway system, there came the dawn of a soft, strong light which began to illumine the darkness of my spirit. I remembered words spo-ken to me long ago by my father when I was just a little girl: "There is no night so dark that you cannot reach out and take the hand of God." Slowly I regained perspective on the original purpose of my life, my spiritual journey. Is there, I wondered, searching my heart, the possibility of being an authentic monastic living in the world? And if there is, what shall it ask of me and how shall I answer? When the doors we have passed through are closed and locked behind us and those we have loved no longer speak our name, then indeed we must come to the truth or we shall surely perish. And if the truth should call us on alone, girded only with the armor of faith, with no assurances and no compan-ions to stave off the terror of the night, when there is no road back, we must carve our own road forward. When that which we have loved the most is forever lost to us, we must build a new tabernacle in the desert of the heart. This is the vocation of the monk or nun in the world. To bring to birth in the solitude of society an authentic monasticism of the heart, alone except for God and whatever he provides. Every morning I exit the train at Chambers Street and make my way up the subway steps. The stench of urine greets me, the first smell I perceive each day in downtown New York. I who love the warm richness of burning incense and the leaping flame of candlelight, I am thrust into this daily reminder of what is behind and what lies before me: the smell of the street and its treachery, the darkness of places where candles never flicker. I am Moses in the desert, forty years of wandering across the wasteland of Manhattan. Today I pass two Hasidim studying a subway map just outside the entrance of the train. One is bent with age, his white beard flowing over the collar of a shiny black coat. The other is young, unmarried, tall and blond with side curls fluffing out from under his black yarmulka and felt hat. They do not acknowledge me, a goy, though I pass within inches of their out- 'There is no night so dark that you cannot reach out and take the hand of God." May-~t~une 1992 331 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Way in the World spread map. On Centre Street a Chinese peddler opens a stall, displaying his wares on two small sidewalk tables set by the curb. He and his wife sell woolen caps, scarves, sweatshirts, and pants. Their breaths steam like smoke in the windy street. Here on the next corner the Italian sausage man has been standing for several hours beside his concession wagon. Smells of sausage and sauerkraut overwhelm me as I pass, for the day is very young. I walk behind two black lawyers dressed in gray three-piece suits. They are deeply engaged in conversation with a white woman, also an attorney. She wears herself proud, this articulate lady; achievement and prominence like her gold earrings proclaim her success in a man's world. They head toward the courthouse on Centre Street carrying their serious leather briefcases with an air of profound importance. I think about pride and power and humil-ity and powerlessness. I think about the righteousness of law. A thin young man, alone and smiling, dressed in woman's clothing, sits on the bench at Thomas Paine Park, quietly hum-ming to himself. He is there every day, all day. Across the street a tall Hispanic man, handsome in his faded blue jeans and tan hooded sweatshirt, keeps his post with hand outstretched. He entertains passersby, juggling several coffee cups and telling humorous stories. Is he a fool for Christ's sake, or has he only learned to play the fool in hope of an extra quarter in his cup? When the morning crowd has passed and rush hour is over, he slumps onto a park bench and does crossword puzzles until later in the day when he will resume his trade, the daily round of beg-ging. I walk on toward Lafayette and Leonard Street. A homeless woman pushes a grocery-store cart which contains all her earthly possessions. She is wrapped in layers of rags. Near the corner of Worth Street, I notice the old cab driver, an Irishman with shin-ing blue eyes and stubbly beard. He is retired now to a life of penury, another beggar on the streets of the city. He sits on the park bench combing white disheveled hair just as he did yester-day, just as he will do tomorrow. What monk weaving baskets in the desert or writing music in a modern monastery knows greater mortification or penance than he? Soon he will change his wet socks no matter how cold it is. In the rain, in the sleet, in the snow, or in the sun I see him every day, his stack of reclaimed newspapers beside him. I wonder if he ever thinks of God, or must he always worry about his daily bread? I continue down Centre Street and lift my eyes to read words 332 Review for Religious inscribed high on the courthouse faCade: "The true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government." I think a lot about justice. Justice, mercy, and charity. Righteousness and law. I think about the government of our country, the government of the church and that of monastic life. I wonder about politics in places where politics should have no place, the house of God. I wonder if the hand of justice can ever reach beyond the bound-aries of political alliances, those in the world and those in the church. Does the true administration of justice happen anywhere, I wonder, and if so, when and where? Who renders justice in real-ity? Is the government of the church and that of monasteries in particular built on true justice and charity, or is it linked to the power of a few who have pleased their superiors and risen to high places? Who are the recipients of justice? And I, when shall I learn to be just? When shall I have the courage for justice and charity? Crossing the street before the light changes, I ponder the plight of those for whom justice never happens and charity is but a word, those in the world and those in the church. Now I head toward the large marble building at the corner of Lafayette and Leonard Street. Its dark charcoal .walls shine in the morning sun. It is here on the third floor that I work in the New York City Department of Probation housed in the Family Court Building. It is time now to concern myself with matters of crim-inal justice: domestic violence, restitution, probationer miscon-duct, probationer drug tests. My tasks are writing and analysis. I lay aside my morning reflections and commit myself to the day's work. It, too, has something to teach me. In the monastery I baked cheesecakes and bread, I built cabinets and furniture, grew vegetables and cooked for the community. I tended guests and prepared the hospitality we offered to strangers. Did that work dif-fer so much from the work I do today? Was it more purifying to my soul or more pleasing to God than these hours before the computer researching and writing about criminal justice? Who can say that one is somehow more pleasing to God than another? Is it not the heart that makes the difference?. Everywhere there is something to learn. Often have I looked into the eyes of a pro-bationer, understanding that we are all on probation in this world, all of us facing the opportunity to change our lives or not, and the consequences thereof. Nothing, it seems, is incapable of teaching us if we pay attention with our hearts. This is the way it is, five days a week, every week of the year. May-.~une 1992 333 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Vday in the IVorM All about me are the signs God places in my path calling me back to himself over and over again. I gather up the fragments of the day, bits and pieces of reality, signposts and fellow travelers I have met along my way. I take them to my heart, where like candles they illumine the darkness of my soul. I pray for them as I pon-der what they have told me without speaking. I am jostled into awareness by the touch of their reality on my own. In seventeenth-century France a man named Vincent, now called St. Vincent de Paul in the Roman Catholic Church and considered by Western Christianity to be the universal father of charity, said to his first sisters--those early pioneer sisters in social service, for nuns until that time were always cloistered in monas-teries--" Your cloister will be the streets of the city and your chapel the parish church." On the streets of New York and beneath them, I have entered a new and different cloister, a spiritual one. It is not an enclo-sure; indeed, it is very open. Open to reality. Open to grace. The parish church is indeed my chapel. There in the sacred hours of Vespers and Divine Liturgy I come to understand what Vincent de Paul was talking about. It is a phenomenon of the last decades that numerous sisters, brothers, monks, nuns, and priests have left the enclosure of con-vents and monasteries and ventured forth into the world. For sure, many of them have completely turned to new lifestyles, abandoning the old. Some have married, others have entered paths altogether removed from that on which they first set their course. I am among another group, that of monks and nuns liv-ing alone in the world and striving to continue the monastic jour-ney started in community. Some may say that monks and nuns in the world cannot be monks or nuns at all. Perhaps so. Perhaps not. If monasticism is repentance and conversion of heart, surely anyone with goodwill who sets out on the path of repentance and conversion of heart is truly a monk, truly a nun. If monasticism is the search for truth and harmony in the universe, a search for God hidden beneath all the layers of reality that cover everything and everybody, then those who search are truly monks and truly nuns. If the habit does not make the monk and the essence of monasticism is seeking God above all things and striving to live the spiritual life with all one's being, then those who commit to this sacred journey--whether alone or in community, dressed in 334 Review for Religious religious attire or secular garb, recognized or not recognized by official ecclesiastical structures--are truly authentic monks and nuns. The riason of the choir is not suitable for the street, but the true choir robe of the heart is purity of intention, single-mindedness in faith, humility before God, ation. One need not live in a monastery to wear this authentic spiritual robe, and thus clothed on the inside of one's being, one is truly a monk, truly a nun. Yes, it is frightening to ~tand on the edge of the desert and know that absolutely there is no other way to pass. It is hard to go naked into the nigh.t of the spirit with no comforts, no road maps, no spiritual father or mother, no companions for sup-port or sustenance. Alone. This stripping, however, of everything we mistake for safety and security is the reality that makes us true monks and true nuns in company with those who have gone before us, the Desert Fathers of antiquity. I do not wish to compare one form of monastic life with and love for his cre- The true choir robe of the heart is purity of intention, single-mindedness in faith, humility before God, and love for his creation. another. I do not wish to contrast the merits of living in com-munity and living in the world. Rather, what I wish to ponder is the fact of the spiritual journey, the reality of the spiritual searcher whereve~ he or she may be. This inner journey never ends though everything may change. If we know that, whatever may have gone before us and whatever yet may come, there is no path for us but through the desert, no cloak for us but the mercy of God, no pos-ture but humility and repentance before his face, then we have sufficient knowledge to continue on the path. He will provide all that is needed. If we find ourselves aware that we have no road map, no comfort station, no companion to lighten our burden and cheer us along, how shall we find our way? Will fear and loneliness defeat us? Having lost or abandoned everything, the soul stands naked and empty in the face of its Creator. This is the moment of truth. Accepting our essential nakedness and littleness, we take our emptiness back to God. Kenosis. The outpouring, the emptying of our hearts. Everything we have done and have failed to do. We gather up the fragments of our lives and return them to the Lord. May-.l~une 1992 335 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Way in the World Holy wisdom teaches us that everything lost in time will be recov-ered in eternity. Our task is but to seek the Master who calls us to the feast. Contemplating the mercy and terrible judgment of God, how shall we stand? Only in abandonment and complete surren-der, with no excuses and no demands except to pray: "Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we for-give those who trespass against us." When all the rest is taken from us or when we, like foolish children, have ourselves run from our Father's house, have nothing, we may yet have every-thing, for only faith, hope, and love remain, "and the greatest of these is love." I wonder as I wander the streets and subways of New York if the monastery is not really everywhere and monasticism everyone's journey. Over a Garden-Wall at Bambous Mission Ile Maurice Can He be jealous that I hear the music of men's loves swirling whirling over garden-walls dancing through the moonlit trees around, swirling whirling once again and around and out, now carried on the evening breeze mingling with the rustling grass and palms and shyly whispering leaves, now ebbing flowing on the turning tide of salty scented ocean air? Can He be jealous? of me? of them ? Or does He too plainly see and hear the kernel of man's pain and loss and disillusionment they waltz about? And yet He holds me tighter. Cothrai Gogan CSSp 336 Review for Religious COREY S. VAN KUREN I Leap Back Over the Wall tth le 9c5o0n ~Me n° ~ iacf~ d aid ~ni ~y _Cehi rgOh~i~ leeadr s.h ~nr r!eLfl ;c~ o0~ eOr ~eeaV idff' she recounts in classic style what occurred and what she felt as she reentered a world she did not know because of her "hiddenness" in religious life. In the past twenty-five years, many religious have left reli-gious life, and most others have experienced enormous changes in it. Many books and articles have been written about the emo-tional, psychological, and anthropological realities involved in such changes. These writings run the gamut from leaving reli-gious life altogether to changing one's status in a particular com-munity tokeeping the same status in another community with a different history, ministry, charism, or geographic center. Lawrence Rywalt CP, in the September/October 1991 issue of Review for Religious, lays out in fine fashion the realities of what goes on with those who are changing their religious life by pass-ing from a "community of origin" to a "receiving community." Throughout his article he uses terms like "a time of adolescence" to describe the mixed emotions one experiences upon entering the unknown. It is somewhat understandable to this reader, as one who is presently going through this process, that these terms are more than somewhat awkward; they may be harmful if per-ceived to be negative. Not only is there a lack of a "clear" canonical process for Corey S. Van Kuren OFMCap is currently in the reentry program of the Capuchin-Franciscan province of St. Mary (New York-New England). His address is St. Michael's Friary; 225 Jerome Street; Brooklyn, New' York 11207. May-~une 1992 337 Van Kuren ¯ I Leap Back Over the Wall The cycle of leaving/reentry can and perhaps should be perceived as a healthy pattern of living. defining this reality of "reentry," but the rarity with which it is perceived and coped with, let alone talked about, makes the use of analogy the only way to discuss it. There are no terms proper to this process, so we who exp.erience it and those who must deal with us are forced to speak in analogy or struggle to invent new ways of speaking about who and what we are. (This is as frightening as was the experience of Monica Baldwin in 1950.) In my own case, the entry/reentry process has happened a couple of times. I first entered the Capuchin Order in 1973 and left in 1981 before ordina-tion. I returned for a short stint and left again. In 1986 I was ordained a diocesan priest and now am in a reen-try program with the same province of Capuchins. I firmly believe that the cycle of leaving/reentry can and per-haps should be perceived as a healthy pattern of living. It is only through the ongoing struggle to find God's will that anyone of us is going to reach sanctity, the goal of any vocation, religious, mar-ried, or single. We need to call the emotions and behaviors they involve by their real names, instead of trying to liken them to any other experience of change. Leaving religious life is no't like divorce, an analogy often heard. Divorce usually happens after prolonged experience of anger, hurt, or at least a clear realization of irrec-or; cilable differences. My own exp~rienc~ and that of others who have talked with me is that we felt, or discerned, that the life we were leading was not what we were then called to, if indeed we ever were called to it. This is not to say that the feelings of loss were not real for us or that we did not miss the people or perhaps even the structures that w~ left behind, but the negativity of such feelings that divorce usually implies was absent. Likewise, to term the process of reentry a time of "adoles-cence" because it might conjure up feelings 6f "anger, despair, fear, chaos, denial, bewilderment, and malaise," as Rywalt sug-gests in his third stage, casts a shadow on the reality of these feel-ings as healthy or as progress or as worthy of an adult. In any event, the expectation of finding such negative feelings is pro- 338 Review for Reli~ous claimed more strongly than any thought of the possibility of feel-ing joy, peace, and a sense of "coming home"--which seems, at least to me, highly possible for those in the reentry process. Just prior to my ordination as a diocesan priest, at a meeting with Bishop Frank Harrison of Syracuse, I revealed to him one fear I had, that I was not sure that I was not called to religious life as I had previously believed and that I might feel compelled to try to reenter religious life in the future. I felt it necessary to speak to him of this feeling before ordination, and must admit that I feared his response might be that I should postpone my ordination until I was sure. Not surprisingly (in looking back and having come to know Bishop Harrison better), his response to me was wise, fatherly, and helpful. In essence, he assured me that this feeling was no reason not to go forward with ordination, pro-vided I was sure that even as a religious my call would include ordained ministry. In addition he laid no claim to knowing what God had in store for him in the future, let alone what the same God had in store for me. The question remains for me: Should it not be possible to change, to move in and through the structures of ministry as we seek God's will, without enduring the analysis of our psycholog-ical motivation, having our behaviors monitored or judgments made about the health or sickness of our actions? It seems to me that as Gospel people we would at least admit to the possibility of a religious motive, the reality of the call. We are too quick to give over to the sciences that which is spiritual, God centered, and not bound by the analysis of science. Is it a bad thing for men and women to constantly try to dis-cern God's will for them? If occasionally this discernment calls for change in structure or movement in or out of structures, need these people be subjected to an analysis of their health, a ques-tioning of their motivations, or must they live with the stigma of being unable to commit? I cannot predict whether my reentry experiment will be sue-cessful in moving me to "profess" again within the Capuchin com-munity. It is my deep hope and desire that it will. However it happens, though, I will neither judge the community nor myself at fault. Nor will I subject myself to questions whether I am mov-ing or not moving through "healthful" stages of development in the process. Prayer, the grace of God through living the Gospel counsels in common, sacramental grace, and meaningful ministry May-June 1992 339 Van Kuren ¯ I Leap Back Over the Wall will be the reality that decides for me and the community if this reentry is God's will. I find that reality comforting and assuring. I do not want to degrade the proper role of the sciences in defining the realities of our life. But as Christians, as ministers, as religious, we cannot give them positions they do not deserve. They must be seen in the proper perspective, and that means integrated with religious, spiritual realities--not taking their place. The leap back over the wall takes as much grace and courage as does the original leap over the wall. That grace and courage comes from relationship with a loving and forgiving God. Religious find this in the lives and faces of brothers and sisters more than in the psychological and scientific analysis of what is healthy or in other comparisons. A leap over the wall--a leap back over the wall--is always a leap of faith. Antiphonal With joy and gladness we cry out to you, Lord: with love and laughter make our hearts sing today from sunrise to sunset. Wisdom of God, be with us, ever at work in us: guiding our hearts and hands; our thoughts, our words, our works. How happy are we who dwell in your house, 0 Lord, forever praising you. Maryanna Childs OP 340 Review for Religious EILEEN P. O'HEA Why We Stay Aging, inadequate retirement funds, as well as the high cost of health care that paralleled and intensified these issues, were crises in religious life that Archbishop Rembert Weak]and of Milwaukee and the campaign inaugurated by the American bishops made public. This campaign aimed at bring-ing attention and monies to the plight of religious communities in America. It brought public attention to something else as well. Along with the assessments religious communities were making about themselves and the data provided by professional research organizations, it made plain that religious communities, with their median age then at 62 and rising, could be vanishing from the American culture. What to do? Get more candidates! Vocation ministry then became a recognized need in religious communities. These min-isters were given offices, cars, and money to explore solutions to this problem. What was once left to chance meetings of persons attracted to religious life now became a full-time occupation. When the problem did not get resolved with an influx of members, these vocation ministers started confronting both com-munity leaders and community members about their nonin-volvement in the process of attracting candidates. Religious communities then began to examine their collective consciences. Why are people not attracted to us anymore? Are we doing some-thing wrong? Are we no longer reflecting those religious values Eileen P. O'Hea is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Brentwood, New York. Presently she is working as a therapist and a spiritual director at Stony Lake Office Park; 2459 15th Street N.W.; New Brighton, Minnesota 55112. May-June 1992 341 O'Hea ¯ Why l~Ve Stay that attract people to want to live out the gospel in a religious community? Or have we been so coopted by materialism and our own needs that people see us as just another lifestyle with little connection to the holy and the truly religious? Or perhaps we are just not presenting ourselves, not advertising ourselves enough, not effectively reaching the public's consciousness? Not doing enough or not being enough to attract members was taken seriously by religious communities. But numbers of candidates did not increase. What religious communities found was that there were people "out there" who wanted to join them in prayer and gospel response, but not full-time. This gave birth to associate membership. These associates reminded members of religious congregations of the value and importance of community. They recognized, perhaps intuitively, that the joining of persons in faith and love is essential to the experience of realized love. Religious communities opened their doors and their hearts and found that the relationship between them and their associate members was mutually beneficial. Leaders and members of reli-gious communities latched onto this relationship as the hope for the future of religious life. This new hope was translated into a familiar organizational plan: designate a community member as director of associate membership. Give the person a car, office, and money to explore this undertaking. The beginning of associate membership brought a sigh of relief to communities. Many communities began to see associate membership as the answer to extinction. But, shortly after its ini-tiation, problems began to arise about how much "say" associate members would have in setting the direction for religious com-munities and whether they could vote for members for leader-ship positions or become leaders themselves. How much "say" would associates have about monies spent, or how much access would they have to these monies in time of need? Moreover, actual associate membership, however popular and good, is not weighted in favor of youth and vitality. Some of the individuals attracted to this membership share the same median age as the community with which they associate. Some of a dif-ferent age group visit for a while and then move on or are taken up with other commitments. Some, of course, stay and radiate to the established community their vitality, gifts, and deep spirituality. What Archbishop Wealdand did through the campaign he inaugurated was make thoroughly public what had been only 342 Review for Religious known in the privacy of religious communities. What happens to individuals when they finally express some fear out loud to a friend or therapist happened to religious communities. They could no longer deny or conveniently repress the facts of aging and dimin-ishment. When the private fears of religious communities were brought into the public forum, they became more real, more potent. The problems of aging, not attracting permanent membership, inadequate health care are realities known to members who have chosen to stay in religious life. These problems are compounded especially for women religious as they sometimes experi-ence themselves systematically oppressed by the institutional church. Women have been deeply hurt. In this ecclesial relationship, as in other personal relationships, the hurt can come only if the investment is deep enough. And it is precisely because their love for the church is so deep that women, as well as men, have experienced hurt from some of the structures, operating principles, and mind-sets of the institutional church and its representatives. Some of us have chosen to stay in religious life fully con-scious of the crises and dilemmas presented. Others have left for personal reasons such as fear about the lack of security religious life represents. Still others wrestle with the option of leaving as they look at the statistical data, their experience of the institu-tional church, and the logic of the situation. Some of the reasons people stay are very personal, some are theological, and some are mystical. My reasons for staying incorporate all of these and, I believe, represent some of the convictions and intuitions held by many. One of the sweetest gifts of religious life I have experienced is the friendships I have had and the bonding I have experienced with a group of women who are part of my community. Though I do not stay in religious life because of them, their presence is very important. If you could imagine us all standing in a circle facing a luminous light, dancing our way to that light, it would image this reality somewhat. We weave in and out of each other's lives in this dance of life, knowing the reality of the center and at times being that center of light for each other. Though I do not stay in religious life because of my friends, their presence is very important. May-~Zune 1992 343 O'Hea ¯ Why We Stay The ones not in my immediate circle I know belong to another circle of their own intimate friends. We do not experience the light in each other yet. But our experience in community and our interdependence over the years have brought us from mutual rejection or intolerance to mutual appreciation of the differences between our personalities and mutual caring about each other. Someday, after my negative intellectual and emotional program-ming has been purified, I will know that they too are light. In the meantime I am surrounded by women who, at some level, value the search and desire to be one with God and struggle to live this out in their ministry and personal life. In the novitiate our novice director told us that we would be given a hundredfold return. I could not then imagin~ what that could mean, but reflection on the past years says that is so. Although my life has been difficult at points, especially through the sting of a celibate lifestyle, it has also been life-giving and full of wonderful people and experiences that belonging to a reli-gious community has either allowed or facilitated. And although I can point to oppression in the past (religious life, like marriage and other vocations, was evolving in its understanding of itself), today I experience inner freedom. In spite of, or because of, belonging to a religious community, I have come to some under-standing of myself. I have had the opportunity, through prayer and commitment to spiritual pursuits, to know myself as loved and to realize that my being and the Being of God are the same reality. Some days I am more conscious of this truth than others; some days my own egocentricity obscures it completely. My longing to be one with God drew me to religious life. Frequently I was disillusioned by members of my religious com-munity. Each hurt, each disillusionment, forced me to peel away another layer of a psyche torn between finding its happiness out-side itself in people and things or finding happiness inside itself. It was a bright moment, a moment of light, when a deeper self was realized, a self that found within her the longing of her heart and then began to make peace and love with the external world. That process continues. Religious life helps the process. The same wise woman of my novitiate also quoted the saying about putting one's hand to the plow and not turning back. It is another reason for staying in religious life. It is not a matter of logic or assessment of security needs. Staying in community is a stance of faith. In faith I believe that my original desire found 344 Review for Religious form through religious community. The form might change or dissolve or might mimic all living organisms and go through a disintegration period before being reintegrated in a new form. I wafit to be faithful to my original commitment, which is a com-mitment of right relationship with God, of knowing and discov-eri~ ng the essence of this relationship. The task of all forms, including that of religious life, is to give expression to a deeper reality. The reality of God is beyond form. The place of faith is standing with others, community members and friends, and fac-ing together the deeper reality and not being overwhelmed as the form does whatever it needs to do. To be companioned in faith and love at this level of reality is to mirror the light, life, and love of a God who is beyond form. When sisters and brothers stand together at this place of faith, we redirect the energies of the world from its obsession with form to the Reality toward which all form is supposed to point. The creative energy of God is what we see reflected in our material universe, but the ultimate call of all human beings is to go beyond ~he reflection to the source who is Life and Being. As groups of religious unite in faith, facing into and sharing in the c~nter who is Love, they acknowledge the interrelatedness of all p~rsons in a communion of being that is beyond form. Perhaps the apparent disintegration experienced by ?eligious com-munities is part of the nec~essary evolution all living organisms go through. Perhaps it is taking us to a deeper experience of real-ity- the Reality beyond form. We, in our age, have evolved to a point where we are con-scious of being conscious. We are teeter-tottering on the edge of a new shift in consciousness. Members of religious communities have made great efforts to join with one another and to remove the psychological and emotional blocks that cause us to see our-selves as separated from each other. We have made great efforts to know ourselves at our deepest level. As we discover this deep-est self, we begin to realize that God "is" the centered self--that we (God-I) ire one. The realization of this oneness is an experi-ence that cannot be contained. It cannot be restrained by the form that is our body or the form that is religious community. As we recognize our being "in" Love, we begin to experience oth-ers no longer as other, no longer as outside ourselves--or sepa-rated from us. This is the beginning of communion consciousness. It is a way of being with each other that is beyond form. May-June 1992 345 O'Hea ¯ Why We Stay Why do we stay in religious life? We stay because the form that is religious life is still pointing us to the Reality our hearts have longed to be one with. We stay because our companions have been faithful to us and we want to be faithful to them. We stay because the greatest adventure of all, the awakening of con-sciousness to Reality, is about to happen and religious community can facilitate that awakening. We stay because we recognize love here. We stay because we know God's faithful love and want to respond with love. We stay because the form provides, 'through the experience of community and ministry, relationships of mutual love and sharing. We stay because we refuse to be intimidated by fear and a lack of security. We stay because we have put our hand to the plow and want to fulfill our commitment. We stay because our lives and commitment are about faith. We stay because in community the experience of God as Trinity is being realized and manifested in relationships that are life-giving, loving, and mutual. We stay because our intuition tells us that the experience of com-munion consciousness is about the many discovering themselves as one. We believe that the evolution of religious life is moving us closer to this discovery. We stay because true identity is realized in the discovery of the mutual indwelling of our being in the being of God and others. We stay because we want to witness to the Reality beyond form. Silence I cannot say that I no longer sing for in my heart, the while my lips are dumb, my song I keep. I only know that words no longer come to break the silent singing of a thing that lies too deep. Florian Reichert SSJ 346 Review for Religious MELANNIE SVOBODA When a Sister or Brother Leaves All of us in religious life have seen some of our brothers and sisters leave our communities even after many years. The circumstances leading to such a decision are usually complex and unique to each individual. But one fact is simple and universal: a person's decision to leave religious life has an impact on those who "decide to stay." The stronger the ties that bind us together in a religious community, the greater the pain and con-fusion when such bonds are, for all practical purposes, severed. This article explores some of the pain and confusion sur-rounding one sister's leaving. "Sue" (as I call her) is not a "real" sister, nor are these direct quotes from my own "real" journal. Such a reflection would be too personal for me to publish at this time. It would also run the risk of violating the privacy of a par-ticular individual's decision to leave religious life. Sue is rather, a composite of a number of i'eal people who have left my commu-nity and other communities as well. And though this account is fiction in the technical sense, it is nonetheless, I trust,-very true. It is my ho~e that these reflections will resonate with the thoughts and feelings of o~hers who have experienced a friend's departure from religious life. She tells me, "I'm leaving." And she wants me to be one of the first to know, before "it's announced." I sit in silence and disbe- Melannie Svoboda SND, a regular contributor to Review for Religious, resides at Notre Dame Academy; Route One, Box 197; Middleburg, Virginia 22117. May-j~ne 1992 347 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves Something is terribly wrong. Like someone has died or something, only I cannot remember who. lief in the front seat of the car. For a few moments I can say and do nothing. I am not surprised. Not really. Hasn't she been sharing her struggles with me these past three years? Didn't I suspect even a year ago that her searching and questioning would eventually lead to this: the decision to go? No, I am not surprised. But I am numbed. At least momentarily. Finally I say, "Are you sure?" And in the dim light of the car I see her nod and pull out a tissue, and I know she is crying. I reach over to her-- awkwardly over the gear shift and try to comfort her. I say her name a few times, and then I start to cry, too. For several moments we sit like that--me with my arm around her shoulder. No words. Just the sound of our soft crying. After a few moments we both sit up straight and blow our noses. In unison. We laugh at that and the laughter frees us to talk. Unhaltingly, she tells me of her most recent talks with her spiritual director, of her meeting with our provincial, and of her plans to tell her fam-ily. Everything seems decided. Everything is in place. She will leave in two months--on July 1. One day short of the twenty-eighth anniversary of her entrance into religious life. Of our entrance. I try to listen to everything she is telling me, but my mind is still stuck back there on her first two words, "I'm leaving." At the end I cry some more. I feel her hand gently on my back. I say, "I'm sorry, Sue." She thinks I mean for my tears. But I don't. "It's okay, Melannie. It's okay." But I am thinking: It is not okay. Nothing is okay. And, I fear, nothing will ever be okay again. When I wake up in the morning, I sense: something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Like someone has died or something, only I can-not remember who. I turn on the light. My eyes wince from the assault of its brightness. As my head falls back onto the pillow, "it" hits me: of course, she is leaving. How could I forget? As I slowly crawl out of bed, I feel sick to my stomach. And I know it's 348 Review for Religious not something I ate, it's not the flu. It's the thought of her going away. Later this morning she calls to ask me how I am. She asking me! I say, "Okay. How about you?" And we talk a little more. But before she hangs up she says, "You know, you cried the most. Of everyone I have told so far, you cried the most." And then she adds, "Thanks." Thanks? For what? For loving you? I go to school and I am the cheerful, competent, organized teacher you read about in all the educational journals. But it is all a sham. Inside I am dying--only no one knows. Her leaving is an oppressive burden I bear alone--for now--in secret. But maybe that is good, I think. For as long as nobody else knows about it yet, her leaving has an aura of unreality about it--which eases the pain a little. For now. o~o o~o o~o o:o I have known her for over thirty years--since we were fresh-men in high school. We sat next to each other in homeroom that year, and I liked her from the very start. She was cute, funny, lively, and (above all) good. Although we were typical teenage girls back then, we were somehow comfortable with bringing God into our more serious conversations. We were both terribly idealistic back then. My idealism nour-ished hers and hers mine. Although we made the decision to enter religious life independently of each other, we obviously influ-enced each other greatly. One month after graduating from high school, at age eighteen, the two of us entered the novitiate of the Sisters of Notre Dame--together. I decide I am taking this whole thing too morosely. I tell myself: "So, what's the big deal, anyway? You are acting as if she has died or something. That's stupid! So, a friend decides to leave religious life. So what? People make big changes in their lives all the time. "So, she is leaving. Don't make it soUnd so awful. Gone are the years when we called such departures 'defections.' Do not try to figure out her decision. Do not try to understand it. Accept it. May-~une 1992 349 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves Accept her. Stop moping. She's leaving. But life will go on--for her, for you." And just when such logic makes such good sense to me and I resolve to accept her decision with greater equanimity, she calls me on the phone and, after talking to her for an hour and hang-ing up, I cry again. Through my outpouring of words, I am celebrating her and our friendship. I talk,to Bob about her. He listens with concern and com-passion- as usual. He asks me all kinds of questions--about her, about me, about our relationship. And it is as if a dam has been broken wide open, and my words come gushing out like water. And I talk and talk. And in the talking I suddenly real-ize: I am celebrating her. Through my outpouring of words, I am celebrating her and our friendship. And it feels good. Then I tell him of my concerns for her, my fears. He listens attentively, gen-tly prodding with a question every now and then. And I am grateful, so grateful for this man who can elicit such an out-pouring from me and who is so respectful of everything I tell him. Finally he says, "You love her very much." A simple statement of fact. And I nod and smile at its obvi-ousness, and then I cry a little more and laugh, too. And later he asks, "Have you taken all of this to the Lord, Melannie?" And I stumble over my words, knowing I have not. At least not nearly enough. I tell Bob: "I keep thinking, 'God, if I love her this much, how much more you must love her.'" "That's good," he says. "That's good." And I leave Bob with a lighter heart and a clearer appreciation of my love for her-- and of my pain. And I wonder: When will I take all of this to God? Soon, I think. But not yet. I am worried about her. She is looking for a job now. She is talking about salary and taxes and insurance and getting an apart-ment. Almost all of our conversations these days are about her-- her and her plans. 350 Review for Religious It bothers me a little. Why? Do I feel left out? (I have plans, too!) Or is it that I want our relationship to return to an earlier form, to a time when our plans tended to coincide more? Whatever, I suggest to her: "The next time we get together, let's do something. Like go bowling or even to the zoo or some-thing, okay?" She says okay. I am relieved, for I am tired of talking about her, about "it." But as soon as I admit this to myself, I feel small and selfish. I do not understand her reasons for leaving. They are deep and go back many, many years. She still believes in religious life, she tells me. She still loves our community. And yet leaving us is something she feels she has to do. I do not understand, but I believe she has to do this. That belief makes her going easier for me to accept. o~o o~o o~o o.'o I loved her before we were Sisters of Notre Dame. I will con-tinue to love her afterwards, too. Yet I sense (and so does she) that there will be a change in our friendship--a significant change. After all, our shared commitment in the same religious commu-nity has been a vital part of our friendship. With that pai't gong, we are both wondering: How much wili our friendship be altered? And will the two of us be up to such an alteration? These past few days have been "guilt days." I keep thinking: Did I, as a friend, fail her? Is that why she is leaving? Maybe there is something I could have done that would have prevented her from making this decision. Maj'be .I could have been more sensi-tive, more caring, more supportive, more . Or did we as a religious community let her down? Is there something we as a community should be doing to prevent all these departures? Maybe we are overworked. Maybe we are focusing too much on ministry and not enough on each other. Maybe we are living the life all wrong.-Maybe., maybe., maybe. Bob says,"Youwomen really do get emotionally involved in each other~ lives." May-.~une 1992 351 Svobodu ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves I ask, "Don't you men feel like this when a brother leaves your .community?" "No," he says, "with us it is different. I do not think we feel it nearly as much as you women do." If what Bob says is true in men's communities, there is a part of me that envies men. But, then again, there is a part of me that feels sorry for them. Peg calls. She knows now, too. Finally someone in the com-munity I can talk to about it. "What do you think?" she asks me. And I tell her what I think. Then she shares with me her feel-ings. She is hurt. She is angry. She is worried about Sue. And now there is an added dimension to my own pain: seeing the pain Sue's leaying is having on others like Peg. But it is Peg's anger that takes me aback. So far I have not felt any anger, have I? Only hurt. Only worry. But now I wonder: Am I denying my anger? Am I letting Sue leave us too easily? Should I be fighting more to make her stay? Is my acceptance of her decision my way of lessening my own pain? Of easing my anger? I do not know what to think anymore. At the break at the meeting, Carol grabs me by the arm and pulls me out into the hall. "What's with Sue?" she asks brusquely. Not sure how much she already knows, I ask, "What do you mean?" Immediately I sense her irritation: (She has ne;cer been known for patience--or gentleness.) "Okay, Melannie, you can spare me the gory details. I know she is leaving. All I want to know is: Is she going to be okay?" I nod. "Yes, she is going to be okay." Carol seems satisfied--with that tiny scrap of information. I am amazed at how little it takes to appease hei', how little she wants to know. But maybe I am reading her wrong. Maybe she is just being extremely respectful of Sue's privacy. Whatever, she walks back into the meeting seemingly content. It was announced today. In a letter from the provincial. One brief paragraph. (Over twenty-five years of living religious life, and one short paragraph to tell the community of your leaving.) She 352 Review for Religious has asked for a leave "for personal reasons." Let us "remember her in our prayers," and so forth. How many times have I read such announcements? You would think I'd have gotten used to them by now. But I never have. I hope I never will. When I get the letter and read it, I cry again. How strange. I have not cried in weeks about "it." Why now? Then I realize: the announcement finalizes "it." There is no denying her leaving now, no turning back. It is a fact. And every sister in the community knows it now, too. o:o o:. o~o .:o Mary meets me in the hall, and I can tell by her eyes what she is going to say before she says it. "I just read the announcement about Sue, Melannie," she says softly. "And--and I guess I just want you to know: I am praying for her--and for you. I know it must be hard." She puts her hand on my shoulder. I smile. I say, "Thanks, Mary. Thanks." But two people are struggling inside of me. One is saying, "Yes, comfort me! Please comfort me!" while the other one is screaming, "Go away! I do not want your pity! Go away!" So, she is gone. Officially. Not completely, of course. She is still "connected" to us, for the church does not ordinarily permit a quick egress from religious life. Rather, it encourages a gradual one. She is still one of us, although living in an apartment now and working on her own. She will stay in touch with "us" by her contact with the provincial, with one of our local communities, and with a few of us, her closest friends. I tell myself, "She might come back. Some do, you know-- after doing what they have to do or whatever . " But I know in my heart: hardly anyone ever does. I call Sue. It has been weeks since we talked. The spaces between our conversations and meetings are getting wider, I notice. She is upset because she feels her leaving has hurt so many sisters. She knows some are angry with her. She says, "Why can't they see that my leaving is not an indictment against religious May-June 1992 353 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves life or their decision to stay? Why can't they just accept my deci-sion?" I say something like, "Well, maybe you have to give them more time, Sue. After all, you took years to make your decision. Now give them time to work through accepting it." I see Bob ~again. He asks about Sue. "Have you begun to deal with what effect her leaving is having on you personally--and your own commitment?" "Not really," I say. "I think I am still wallowing in the pain of losing her. And I am still too worried about her to think too much about myself. And I am so busy, too." ("Mercifully busy," I think to myself.) He listtns attentively and then says, "That's okay--for now. But it will come, you know. Sooner or later. You will have to deal with it: your own decision to stay." I know he is right. At the community meetings this week, I miss her very much. I expect to see her in the hall, to have lunch with her, to laugh with her. Only she is not there. Afterwards I call and talk to her, but I do not know how much of these community meetings to share with her, how much she wants to hear about what "we" are doing. And I sense I am beginning to see her as no longer a part of that "we." If only she were more sure of herself. If only I saw more direc-tion in her life, more certitude. But she still seems so direction-less, biding her time with this temporary job, still searching for who knows what. Everyone asks me, "How is Sue doing?" And I never know how to respond. If I say, "Fine," that is a lie. She is not fine. She is confused, lonely, and struggling. But if I say, "She i~ having a really hard time right now," that is misleading, too. It makes it sound as if she has made a mistake in leaving us. So, not knowing how to respond to their inquiries, I usually end up saying, "She is okay--but it is hard, you know." And my 354 Review for Religious voice trails off, and I think I have communicated the truth as well as it can be communicated. I love her. I care about her. I miss her. That is all I am trying to say, God. These jottings are perhaps too focused upon me and not enough upon her. But I entrust even that to your love as I try to entrust all things--especially Sue. She leaves. I stay. Why? Forever I have never lived in forever. ? where love is always and night never comes. Tonight, as I crawl into the arms of your Love, God, the idea of lasting forever causes a shudder thru my being. I have never known forever. ? here, everything ends. Day ends when night comes. and Yesterday is different from Today or Tomorrow. Here nothing is always the same. As I lie here thinking of your Love that lasts forever, two pains f!ll my being-- fear and desire, because I who had a beginning will join You in life unending. I have never known forever. ? Vowed to You, I promise to persevere unto death. Should I not say, ". into life"? Claire Mahaney RSCJ May-j~une 1992 355 BRIAN B. MC CLORRY The Integral Sabbatical transitions I woke very early on a June morning, restfully uncertain where I was and so checked the surrounds with interest, coffee and cigarette in hand, looking for a sound, geo-graphical answer. The sunlight was bright, the landscape clear: Holman Island, Northwest Territories, Canada, some three hundred miles inside the arctic circle. The third and final part of my sabbatical had begun. Holman seemed a far cry from the Jesuit Renewal Center in Milford, Ohio, where the sabbatical had started, a far cry from Cambridge, Massachusetts, where I had spent a semester at the Weston School of Theology. It was all a far cry from Leeds, England, where I had been Catholic chap-lain for the University and Polytechnic. Both in Cambridge and Milford I had been mildly surprised at the number of people, mainly religious, who were also on sabbatical. No doubt there is a tendency for sabbatical people to frequent the same watering holes when they are not wandering the earth visiting their con-gregation's communities. Sabbaticals are now common among religious, and in the religious press sabbatical pro-grams are widely advertised. The sabbatical now seems to be an unexceptional part of religious life in much the same way that, for some congregations, the tertianship--a kind of compulsory spiritual sabbatical--is an integral part of formation. This is clearly a new development. Brian B. McClorry SJ writes from Manresa House; 10 Albert Road; Harborne; Birmingham B 17 0AN; England. 356 Review for Religious In the 1960s sabbaticals were primarily a way of dealing with problem people or people with problems. It was, of course, a moot point whether the problem belonged to the persons involved or to their congregations. These sabbaticals were, in part, ways of responding to developments which were unforeseen, confusing, and frequently unwelcome. Sometimes they were mainly thera-peutic or disciplinary. There is likely to be a healing element in many sabbaticals, but it is right to allow sabbaticals a valid exis-tence on the far side of therapy. Recently the sabbatical has been reintroduced as a disciplinary measure by congregations and Roman authorities in an attempt to save an order or an ortho-doxy felt to be imperiled. Again the question remains whether it is the person or the institution that stands in need of a sabbatical. This, however, is not a question I will discuss here. There were and are "problem," "therapeutic," and "disciplinary" sabbaticals as ' well as those associated with academic work. But none of these is unexceptional and integral to religious life. The integral sabbat-ical, however, is new. Of course it may well be asked how integral to religious life sabbaticals really are, even at a more or less empirical level. Neither all congregations nor all religious make use of them. Indeed, when taken, not all sabbaticals are greeted in a sufficiently sabbatical fashion. There is the itch to justify or to decry, a ten-dency to view sabbaticals as a reward, or a vacation, or as a debt to be paid. That there are many kinds of response to the statement "I am on sabbatical . . ." is sufficient reason for discussion. Moreover, if religious make widespread use of sabbaticals, the diocesan clergy in the main do not. There are regional and denominational variations. Sabbaticals are commoner among diocesan priests in the United States than in England; the Methodist Church in England has a policy and a provision for sabbaticals whereas Roman Catholic dioceses in England do not-- except in a very negative sense. The questions raised both by sab-baticals and their absence are of widespread interest. In what follows I will try to examine way~ of understanding the "integral" sabbatical, using my sabbatical experience as a kind of case study. This approach inevitably will be limited, but not inevitably limiting. There are no absolute anecdotes: individual cases are also part of our social, cultural, economic, and religious history. Most serious questions will be left decently unanswered on the ground that closure is ordinarily premature. May-d~une 1992 357 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical Timing and Validation One clear and important element in evaluating and preparing for sabbaticals is timing. Scriptural tradition designates every sev-enth year as a sabbatical year. The British province of the Society of Jesus provides for h sabbatical ten years after tertianship. Having a policy, provided it is not applied woodenly, allows indi-viduals to have and to plan for sabbaticals. It also allows the con-gregation to suggest them more easily. It is at the level of policy that the question of justifying sabbaticals emerges with particular force. Are sabbaticals.justifiable? As with many questions, this one is best approached not directly, but through the categories which are found helpful in discovering the kind of thing a sabbatical might be. There are, of course, lines of thought in the scriptural tradition. Originally the intention behind the sabbatical year was to give rest to the land, the vineyard, and the olive grove. This rest would give the poor and the wild animals a chance to eat (Ex 23:10-11) and allow debts to be remitted (Lv 15:2). There would be no scarcity, for the "sabbath of the land" itself would provide enough food (Lv 2 5:6). The help given to the poor was not to be confined to the sab-bath year (Dt 15:9), for this sabbatical value was of permanent importance and validity. What is involved here is a careful knowl-edge of the land, plants, and animals--and the perception that the workings of the economy both damage these and do violence to the community. People are squeezed out and forced into the powerlessness of debt. The sabbatical year is a piece of positive discrimination and a recall to the tru~ values and creative origins of the community. Parallels are problematic, but it may make sense to view the contemporary sabbatical in these terms rather than as intrapersonal refurbishing or as an opportunity for gain-ing skills or knowledge. To leave for a time the work we do may well benefit that work (there will be, it seems, no shortages), and both the work and the workers may recover their creative ori-gins. We may begin once more to perceive whfit is demanded and who is excluded both in our work and in our societies. In this sense a sabbatical may be an effective symbol of grace and faith, of justice and peace. The link between "sabbatical" and "sabbath" is obvious. Whether or not this is the beginning of a line of thought in favor of the "integral" sabbatical, the question of timing remains. Timing is not simply a matter of administrative convenience or 358 Review for Religious possibility, nor is it only a question of calendars, frequency, and opportunity. Some years ago I had a particularly trying period of ministry in a poor inner-city area. The ministry failed. The team failed to work together--a failure in which I was implicated deeply. Eventually the project was closed. I was hurt, angry, and had come to the end of the road. The off-road terrain was hardly visible. I scarcely believed I had energy enough left to start afresh any-where and so began to dally with the seductive idea of a sabbati-cal and its promise of escape. Fortunately my provincial suggested that I return to university chaplaincy work--a ministry I had known and liked. To my surprise I agreed quickly and easily and, in the event, found to my delight that the energy and interest were still there. The work therapy worked. After four years, how-ever, it became clear that my old and easy patience with under-graduates was wearing thin, that I wanted to spend my time with faculty, ecumenical questions, and issues affecting the institutions themselves rather than with students. It was not the end of the road, just time to go. Then the idea of a sabbatical reemerged, tinged with excitement, less seductive but more promising. The sabbatical promised to be less therapeutic or escapist than it would have been if taken earlier. It would be more positive, an affair of discovery. Sabbaticals are "integral" in more ways than one: they are better timed the more they are at one with the positive move-ments of our life stories and not just snagged on fragment.s of these narratives. Better timing, it seems, might also lead to a bet-ter content. Content and Desire Academics on sabbatical might well do research, though many academics speak of sabbaticals in terms not reducible to academic research. Nonacademics also might want to do research, to con-template steadily or ferret away busily in some area which comes into view as life-giving, deeply interesting, part of the emerging oudines of a mysterious but attractive future. On occasion it makes sense to learn skills that can be put to determinate use. Sometimes it is better to do woodwork. Clearly the content of a sabbatical varies indefinitely and could even include the possibility of a care-fully mixed cocktail. I wanted to have time, space, and the right environment for reading and writing. So much was a felt need. I also wanted to follow a program in spiritual direction. For many May-June 1992 359 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical years I had given one or two directed retreats a year and won-dered what, if anything, I had learned from the experience and what, if anything, I imagined I was doing in this ministry. It seemed that retreat work of some kind was a likely future. For me woodwork was not a serious contender--although I can almost smell the i:eel of the grain. Behind the question of content--what, after all, shall I do?- there is the matter of imaginati6n and desire. What do I really desire? How free or frozen is the imagination that shapes our conscious desires? What are the desires that might free or freeze our imaginations? It does not do to link desire solely with what is conventionally good, for there is more to good than convention supposes. It does not do to mold imagination only by pi'agmatic realism, for realism can imprison as well as free our imaginations. Desire is a matter of discovery and strange meetings: a geography of uncertainty and power. Maps for desire do not exist, for it is a contemplative heuristic, a medium in which mystery is disclosed. It is not, however, an infallible heuristic. A year before he died, a friend who had many desires told me, "I have never known what I really wanted to do." Desir~ is not exhausted in the desires we know we have. In Genesis the naming of animals is, in a strange and unfem-inist narrative, part of a search that culminates in the joyful, real-ized completion of creation. God brings the animals to the man to see what he would call them (Gn 2:19). To stay long enough in prayer so that completing the sentence "I want." is done iri God's presence is to begin to name those elements of ourselves and our world which God brings to us for naming. We may name what is incomplete or destructive in us, or what lacks integration in our lives. In this naming w~ may be set free of what possesses Us, an exorcism in which the demons, if they return, have no real power. We are freed from d~fensiveness and become less timid. Alternatively, we may find that we name our positive desires and find in this naming that the truth of our seeking and welcoming is revealed. In both cases the disclosure of the God who, in Christ, dream~ with us brings with it freshness and discovery. The con-tent of a sabbatical, however practical or impractical it may be, is also to be discovered, found out, stumbled across, given. The content of a sabbatical should resonate with or express the desires we discover in us, desires which at the same time help us find out what a sabbatical--or a life--might be like. 360 Review for Religious Even though my imagination was thin, my desires were real enough: an intern.ship in spiritu, al direction at Milford and a semester of reading at Weston. I felt there was much to be dis-covered in the course of these programs that would be enjoyable and useful. I did not envisage any discoveries jolting my paradigms. At Weston I would go on a light diet and look for space. There were, however, some four months of the sabbatical which were as yet undetermined. The "third world" was not a strong contender. I had recently spent a hard but exhilarating summer in Guyana and, years before, had done my tertianship in India. A journey to Zimbabwe or to South Africa always remained a possibility. Whatever the status of my gawky ratio-nalizing, the truth was that I had no particular desire to go to the third world. I found I wanted to go to northern Canada. The experience would be new, which is one value in sabbatical planning; but it was the desire to go, rather than arbitrary novelty, that mattered. Certainly I wanted to be far from known places and defined expectations; there was the lure of the north with its sparse and spacious environment and its rather specialized attractions of ice and snow. That world would have a different scent: snow alters aromas. The Canadian north had always been attractive to me, and once or twice I had sniffed at its fringes. But although the desire to go was clear, its rationale was elusive, mysterious. It had to do, I thought, with going to a large, remote, and cold place in order, paradoxically, to unfreeze my imagination and creativity. The north was the right environment for that kind of event, in some sense the necessary place. Moreover, there was the remote but dramatic possibility of spending time in the Canadian arctic. I liked the dramatic frisson, expected something to "happen," and found that the prospect enhanced the attractiveness of the sab-batical as a whole. It gave a sharp edge to the enterprise and I looked forward to that edge. I got out maps and wrote to bishops. The desire had emerged and persisted. The provincial concurred; the bishops in the north agreed. So much for the discernment. I write, of course, after the event--with the heightened accu-racy and inaccurate overclarity which marks retrospectives. Sometimes, however, the content of a sabbatical is found largely Sometimes the content of a sabbatical is found largely in retrospect. May-3~ne 1992 361 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical in retrospect. Characteristically I planned my sabbatical carefully. I was not going to drift into a sabbatical and discover afterwards that a sabbatical is what I might have had. My time would be spent well, responsibly, even originally. But planning has its times and seasons, and for many "planning" and "exploration" are hyper-active metaphors better replaced by "contemplation" and "wait-ing." A friend of mine spent the first three months of a sabbatical year waiting to see what he wanted to do; another spent some months after his sabbatical finding out what he had done and what his desires had been. It seems that the justification of sab-baticals and their content lies in the mysterious priority of desire and imagination rather than in efficient planning and declared good intentions. There is some need for discernment of desire and imagination, for neither whim nor designer image is a suffi-cient guide. Conventionally, the value of a sabbatical rests on enhanced skills, published research, a revitalized person. The generous mea-sure of truth in these pictures--which do express something of our desires--should not obscure another dimension. Sabbaticals are in some respects like parables.~ Jesus' parables carry many meanings and so have a capacity to interact in many and new ways with our lives and cultures, Sometimes the parables break under their own realism--ninety-nine sheep are left unprotected in the course of the search for the one which is lost. The parables both disjoint our ways of looking at and being in the world and open up new and energetic possibilities. On this basis it is mean-minded to settle effectivelyon one allowed description of a sabbatical, for example, "study leave." What matters is that sabbaticals are allowed to become parables, polyvalent narratives whose realism does not determine the story. Milford and Cambridge It is a commonplace that programs in spiritual direction include much "listening." Accurate, active, contemplative, prophetic, and holistic listening--with individuals and in a group--are all elements in a conversation. They are ways of dis-covering what may be going on in prayer or life--ways of finding a path that fits and may.lead somewhere. No doubt I learned and relearned some skills at Milford and welcomed the lines of inquiry and interest which these engendered. Such learning, however, is 362 Review for Religious notoriously not neutral or unaffecting. Listeners listen also to themselves; and, when they become conscious or aware of what they hear, there is the possibility and gift of a transformation which is not reducible to the addition of skill to skill. So I found, in a time of surprise, a change in me which was about trusting and expecting more from God. The coloration of my world shifted, its shape altered. The world I stepped into was a friendly place and the friend-liness was to be trusted. This perceived feature of the world was not a purely intrapersonal shift. Nor was it entirely an empirical affair. My father moved from house to hospital and from hospi-tal to a retirement home with his memory impaired. I returned to England for a few weeks to help the moves and to sell the house. The Gulf War started unbelievably and ended with unseeing cel-ebrations. Ten feet from me in a bus in Boston a man was shot in the face on Good Friday. But the world was friendly because God was in the world and the world was in God. This discovery did not invite me to rush into developing a theodicy or to reread the old ones, to put together friendliness and unfriendliness. If there was a theodicy, it would be rooted in, among other things, a complex attentiveness to the world, which was in God, and to God, who was in the world. Both the friendliness and the unfriendliness of the world called forth the look of friendly regard. This, the grace-ful face of panentheism, seemed new--a well-remembered face seen as if for the first time. This friendliness connected with specific matters in spiritual direction. In the language of Ignatius's Spiritual Exera'ses, I became better able to trust "consolation" both in myself and in retreatants. God, after all, relates to consolation and desolation in different ways. The relationship to desolation is real but entirely provi-sional; what characterizes God's action is consolation. In this friendliness it also became possible to sit happily with my igno-rance when giving spiritual direction. "Not knowing" was nei-ther a fearful void to be filled nor an affront to be denied. It was not an affront to competence but a resource to be tapped. To sit with ignorance was to be in danger of finding out, with the part-ner in the conversation, what good thing was happening, what shape hope might take. Such changes in ways of looking at and being in the world are at one with the Old Testament tradition on sabbaticals: a recovery of creative origins. They may happen in the staid, sup- May-d~une 1992 363 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical portive, and challenging world of the Jesuit Renewal Center-- although Milford, Ohio, is not a location which of itself provokes radical insight. (Sometimes it seemed that many areas of our planet are invisible from Ohio.) But changes may also require places or environments which are marginal or shocking. A friend of mine spent most of his sabbatical working in a refugee camp in Thailand. What can be hoped for, wherever we go, is that changes include but are not restricted to intrapersonal health and survival. They will also include the world in which we ordinarily live but have only partly discovered. We may also hope to accept and to find that we do not control the narrative of the sabbatical--nor does the institution or environment in which we find ourselves. Such hoped-for changes, as in the Old Testament tradition, do not need to be confined to the time of a sabbatical, but can have a more permanent validity. With some loss of narrative control, I spent a few weeks in Montreal and Quebec City writing fiction (short stories in which I struggled with and for the narrative) before descending on Cambridge, Massachusetts. The semester at Weston was to be reflective: a few seminars for social reasons and an amount of reading. There was much to delight in, from Erich Auerbach's Mimesis to Annie Dillard's Teaching a Stone to Talk. The reading mattered. Someone said that Annie Dillard's writing evidenced "an amoral hospitality to experience." What price could the dis-cernment of spirits fetch here? Auerbach's literary criticism dis-tinguished a high style, quite divorced from the ordinary life of undistinguished people, from a style, also high, which found won-drous significance in commonplace lives and circumstances. If Milford was about trusting God in a world in which consolation and friendliness were to be trusted, Cambridge was about doing that in the ordinary present--the place where true hospitality lies. For some periods of time I had felt (often with good reasons) that there were important things to be done which were not real-izable in the job I had, the place I was in, the circumstances in which I found myself. Matters were unsatisfactory. Something of this feeling is, perhaps, an occasional inevitability. Life is unsat-isfactory in different ways and at a variety of levels. But a gap can open between the present and the significant future which robs both of any real value. Of a character in Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, the narrator says, "He was looking over into the next val- 364 Review for Religious ley all the time. He wasn't scarcely around where he was." The gap, of course, is about faith as well as presence. There can be a belief in a "god within" who does not welcome the present and a belief in a "god without"--usually absent from the present--in whose future greatness is promised. These two gods are awkward little idols who are not on speaking terms, but who conspire to augment the discomfort of the believer. In the disappearance of the gap between the present and the significant future, there is the loss of two idols, of two gods, and a being found by the one God. Monotheism turned out to be a very powerful affair. The disappearance of the gap, the exiling of the idols, helped me to let go of some things I would never do, however grand the significant future and the pointed present. This was not asceticism or realism, that doubtful consoler. In friendliness and free from the idols, I found there was no need to package myself, to tie up in well-wrapped parcels who I am and what I do. I become pack-aged for reasons of defense and success. But these energy-con-suming activities turned out to be not only harmful but also, and more importantly, unnecessary. The fears that provoked packag-ing became heavily relativized. John Macmurray has a striking remark about fear: The maxim of illusory religion runs: "Fear not; trust in God and he will see that none of the things you fear will happen to you"; that of real religion, on the contrary, is "Fear not; the things that you are afraid of are quite likely to happen to you, but they are nothing to be afraid of.''2 There may well be matters about which it is right and proper to be afraid, but the fear that provokes packaging turns out to be wonderfully otiose. What emerged in Cambridge and had been emerging in Milford was a new sense of integration or fit, not only in me but in how I am present in the world. I preferfit, with its sense of a curve fitting spot readings, a trail in the wilderness which finds the nature of the landscape, a saying in a conversation which res-onates and reveals. "Integration" is a touch static and inward. The appearance of the fit had precisely the quality of exploration and discovery--exploration within and, at one with that, explo-ration of the world. A man lies bleeding in the aisle of the bus, sol-diers pray for peace as the Gulf War ultimatum runs out, people have the glow and the shock of the Holy Spirit on their faces, the books are in the library, the seminar sparkles, and the cold May-June 1992 365 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical in Quebec City gnaws the bones by the frozen St. Lawrence out-side the first Jesuit house in Canada. In all of this idols vanish, the world has a new curvature, and God dreams and surprises. Sabbaticals are times for heralded and unheralded exploration and discovery. These are prime sabbatical hopes and valid extrasabbatical values. Going to northern Canada, to the remote places, seemed like an appropriate continuation of this journey. It had also the character of a celebration. Yukon and Northwest Territories From one point of view, I went north in order to "supply" in parishes and on mission stations. It would be a time of much trav-eling and short stays. As the sabbatical proceeded and the time for departure drew closer, I found that what I wanted was simply to be in the here and now, in that environment, with those people. To be present in a friendly, contemplative, unpackaged, and reflec-tive fashion was what mattered. I did not want to undertake a study tour or become a tourist. Nor did I want to stay in one place "working" or creating a proactive availability. For this period, rootedness was not a value. Staying wherever the bish-ops3 suggested would keep me free of programs, encourage a being present which had little predetermined character--and yet would allow me to give myself and others a ready and real account of what I was doing and why I was there. Performing a small ser-vice was a satisfactory blessing and a gift I needed. I also wanted to look at the landscape and to see what hap-pened when I looked. The environment, I thought, would announce itself in ways which could not be honored simply by going for a walk. From this viewpoint people were secondary, but there is an environmental dimension inseparable from human life and it seemed that the native people would be at one with their environment. That people were secondary in my immediate inter-ests was not a dismissive attitude. So I looked at the landscape-- from the ground and from the air in light planes. In Yukon Territory it turned out to be difficult to look steadily at the moun-tains, valleys, lakes. What was there remained veiled by a prodi-gal facticity, and I had to set myself repeatedly not to turn aside. To sit' with this ignorance was also difficult. "This coast is too beautiful," said a man in the Vancouver airport to a friend; "get me another beer." Eventually the season of looking (after winter 366 Review for Religioto and before summer) itself turned out to be curiously privileged. The mountains disclosed more of themselves when their features were picked out by a light snow cover than when blanketed by heavy snow, or as free of snow as they might be in the late sum-mer. All seasons are privileged and so--also and therefore--was this present time. Eventually it became possible to see shapes, colors, and variations--to pick out the crude outlines of the geol-ogy. At what seemed an infinite cost, it became possible to look steadily. The startling landscape and harsh climate provoked ques-tions. Although the land is beautiful, some of the "southerners" who have come to stay cannot tolerate the winter isolation and depression. The land is wonderful and the energy people expend relates them closely to the environment; but mining marks the landscape. The slag heap grows huge in the middle of the valley by the mine in Cassiar; the tailings continue to mark the Klondike. But in Elsa, a ghost mining town, there is no human activity. The trees, lynx, and martin--the original inhabitants--are beginning to reclaim their territory. To what does this expenditure of energy and ingenuity relate? Sometimes--often--the energy is not expended. Without employment the choices seem to be contem-plation, alcoholism, activism, or hibernation. But the southerners who come and stay--or who return with regularity--seem to be larger and more significant than I imagine they would be if they had remained "outside." It is as if the landscape gives them value and importance or allows their significanFe to emerge and flour-ish. Some come north for a time of healing or to step away from unaccommodating circumstances; others are on the run and bring their pursuers with them. At best there is more than eccentricity and escapism. Lives are lived with old values brought from the south which are given room and enhancement by the land; new values are recognized and welcomed in small towns in the moun-tain wilderness. Strong views coexist with tolerance, showing a respect for people similar to the necessary respect for the climate. At times there is scant respect for environmentalists, who are seen to have a relationship with the country and the animals which is thin and unreal compared to that of miners, hunters, and trappers. Yet downstream from Whitehorse the waters are polluted. The pollution amazes: the Yukon, though twice the area of the United Kingdom, has a population of only about thirty thousand. Despite the invitation and the rewards, I found it difficult to May-~t~une 1992 367 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical sit, to be, to contemplate, and see. My head, eyes, and feet were always in danger of being drawn away toward the future or toward present effectiveness. There was the ridiculous itch to justify how I spent my time here, in one of the most privileged environments on earth. To look, to appreciate and hear, were not more impor-tant but, rather, prior necessities. So much, it appeared, would be true for me also in the United Kingdom. There, too, I would need to discover how to look and listen. Eventually these dis-tracting energies, these pieces of unbelief, became insubstantial. Sitting in the dust--the gold dust--of Dawson acquired power. What mattered were walks along the banks of the Yukon River, taking care to identify the ducks. Surf scoters! This identifying and naming were not violently dismissive (a "that's that and what next?" attitude) but allowed what I saw to become part of the public world, made it shareable and so part of a communal promise. In some places the forests were thin. It was possible to move through them without following a trail or struggling through the undergrowth and fallen trees. Twice the bright' bark of the birch trees seemed to give light. The forest was lit from within: an event as unexpected and as usual as a fox crossing the road. I left the Yukon for the Northwest Territories. The flight from Whitehorse to Yellowknife exchanged vertical country for a horizontal landscape: a flat, flat land. Whitehorse, in mountain-ous country, has few buildings over three stories; Yellowknife, in a terrain that scarcely undulates, is full of high-rise buildings. So do we mark in our architecture our estimates of ourselves and our relationship to the land. The short Yukon spring, when all the trees came out in leaf during one afternoon, also vanished. I flew to Victoria Island, well north of the arctic circle, where there are no trees. It was snowing at Coppermine and Cambridge Bay, the snow flung horizontal by the wind. The frozen bay and the tundra do not make for "beautiful country," but they are exhila-rating: some snow remains and there are occasional, new flowers close to the ground. I see it as keenly and as vividly as the jaguar I saw in a Guyanese village two years ago. The twenty-four-hour sunlight and the intricate flatness of the land, heaved up into flat-topped rock formations near Holman, enliven my tentative pres-ence in these astonishing places. Suddenly the tundra is a place for happiness.4 There is excited wonder at the native people leaving their 368 Review for Religious houses and going to live in "camp" or "on the land" as the win-ter subsides, at the sleds, skidoos, and boats lining the bay and half covered in snow, the profusion of dog lines. There are the inviting enigmas of the snow and ice (color coded like the houses, where the color gives information about origin and ownership), the wreck of Amundsen's Maud. I walk by houses in spaces which are hardly streets, greeting and being greeted, enjoy the camps, am on holy ground. People here do not live "off the land" like Europeans on safari in what became African colonies; they live "on the land." Certainly they do not have "a place in the country." Marie Zarowny, interviewing the Dene and Inuit peo-ple about their political, economic, social, and cultural concerns, found that these were, for the people, inseparable from spirituality: "We are deeply spiritual and our spiritual power comes from the land . Our spirituality is tied in with the animals.''s I found, in this land of the Copper Eskimos,6 a desire for a project, a Gospel activity, and began to sense something of what it might be as I w.alked the tundra, cut inland by the lakes and pancake-topped striated banks, as I prayed in 'the mornings. It is to live and explore the belief that God in Christ is active in the middle of' our creativity and destructive-ness-- and to do so partly in terms of neglected areas of Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises. The context for this would be ecumenical. The people involved most likely would be marginal in ecclesiastical and social terms. Maybe something of this could be said in pub-lic language. I imagine a thin book as sharp, bright, and useful as a razor. The idea is not new. What is new is the tangibility given an idea by the land. The book does not itself matter. What counts is the invitation to live and move in this way. So much is a possible event, the gift that is also a product of looking and sit-ting with ignorance, of listening and friendliness. It is frail but real. Cautious at first, a caribou crosses the trail and moves off across the tundra, splashing through the meltwater and covering the bare ground and remaining patches of snow at a determined trot. An arctic hare appears, each hair individual and alive, crouches down ten feet away, and remains still, long-eared, and eye to eye. What mattered were walks along the banks of the Yukon River, taking care to identify the ducks. May-June 1992 369 I fly south of the arctic circle to Yellowknife, for two weeks in the parish--weeks full of conversations. Then I go on to Fort Smith, by the Alberta border, for a similar two weeks. It is good to sit by the Rapids of the Drowned on the Slave River watching the pelicans, the birds clearly at home in the spilling and swirling waters. Living "on the land" spoke of ways of living in the United Kingdom. Waiting for the looked-at and walked-over landscape to disclose itself speaks of a wider connectedness, a solidarity. I remember the six Jesuits and two women murdered in E1 Salvador on 16 November 1989. Later I fly north again, north of the cir-cle, to Inuvik. There I wonder once more about space and people: the Northwest Territories are larger than Western Europe and have a population of about 55,000. I do not know what this con-trast might mean or what it is to populate or overpopulate the land. In a short while I will exchange these huge and empty spaces for my own overcrowded little island, where every piece of land seems like an archaeologist's find. Meanwhile there is the Mackenzie delta to see--the delta of the Decho, to use the Dene name--and the small settlement of Arctic Red River to visit. But sabbatical time is running out. When I arrive back in England I will have spent some four months never passing more than two weeks at a stretch in any one place. Afterwards It is usual to say that those who travel undertake an inner journey as well as an outer journey. Covering distance, when the travel is a pilgrimage, is a metaphor for a change of mind and heart. Explorers explore also themselves and their own cultures. Similarly the landscape, the land on which we put our feet and live, is an exterior landscape which affects and is affected by our interior landscape. Barry Lopez, contemplating the "bleak and forsaken" aspect of Pingok Island in the Beaufort Sea, writes: The prejudice we exercise against such landscapes, imag-ining them to be primitive, stark, and pagan, became sharply apparent. It is in a place like this that we would unthinkingly store poisons or test weapons, land like the deserts to which we once banished our heretics and where we once loosed scapegoats with the burden of our transgressions.7 Happiness, however, had been given on the undistinguished tundra. The "land" had become a metaphor, a mnemonic, partly 370 Review for Religious learned and partly obscure, which held attractive promise. This was not distant from the care of the land in the Old Testament sabbatical tradition; it was close, also, to the concern for people and society, for the excluded, which is integral to that tradition. The landscape of Victoria Island and the Decho had reminders, in the oil storage tanks needed for winter warmth, of a different economy, other concerns. The land-scape would also include the cityscape, the interre-latedness and demands of first-world economies. Desire and fear both go into the making of cities and are evoked by the complexity and coloration of their shapes, just as they affect and are evoked by our perception of the land. The city includes and excludes, vivifies and oppresses--and needs as much care in its contemplation as does the tundra in the arctic and the mountains of the Yukon, as much set-ting of ourselves not to turn away. In the city, in our quotidian economies, the invitation is the same: to look steadily, to sit with ignorance, to trust the friendliness, to find, in this also impossible terrain, the outlines of the kingdom as drawn in the few "remembered" words of Jesus. Back in England, in Birmingham, there are vivid memories of smokehouses and camps, mountains and snow, the tundra and the frozen sea, mosquitoes and black flies, the particular people and their traditions. The coffee-lubricated conversations continue to echo. The tundra, I think, was easier to look at than Birmingham. But the tundra invites a fuller regard for my own place, these islands off the coast of Europe, and speaks of new possibilities. The landscape of the Yukon speaks of hoping for what is more and larger than is admitted in other, more usual, locations. Solidarities beckon in a welcoming fashion. A sabbatical is a way of returning to one's own place. The difficulty of all this is clear: "The differ-ing landscapes of the earth are hard to know individually. They are as difficult to engage in conversation as wild animals.''8 Nonetheless, to think of a world without wilderness is to be full of disquiet. For wilderness--living "in the land"--was integral to Milford and Cambridge, and is part and parcel of where I am now and where we all are. Explorers explore also themselves and their own cultures. May-June 1992" 371 Notes ~ In what follows on parables, I am indebted to James Crampsey, "Look at the Birds of the Air ." The Way, 31, no. 4 (October 1991): 286-294. 2 John Macmurray, Persons in Relation (Adantic Highlands, New Jersey; first published by Faber and Faber, London, 1961), p. 171. 3 Thomas Lobsinger OMI, Bishop of Whitehorse, and Denis Croteau OMI, Bishop of Mackenzie-Fort Smith--to whom I am very grateful. The Yukon and Northwest Territories are ordinarily a Jesuit-free zone. 4 A time of happiness, if not frequent, is at least commented on often enough for it to be by no means unique in this kind of terrain. See, for example, P. G. Downes, Seeping Island (Saskatoon: Prairie Books, 1988). The happiness contrasts with, but is not provoked by, the harshness of the country. Imprisoned by "a relentless wind of eight days fury," Downes is told by his partner "You do not 'hope' in this country; you do not hope, you just do the best you can" (p. 63). An explanation is given in a foot-note: "What he means is that 'hoping' is a passive state, and that you must be physically and mentally active in this type of situation." This seems also about right when hoping in God. s Marie Zawowny, "You Can Help Us to Become Strong Inside: Discerning the Direction of the Church with the Dene and the Inuit," Insight: A Resource for Adult Religious Education, no. 4, 1991, National Office of Religious Education, Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops. 6 "Copper Eskimo" was the phrase I heard. Local people do not always use the the more favored general name, Inuit--"the people." A fine account of life with the Inuit of the area is given in Raymond de Coccola and Paul King, The Incredible Eskimo: Life among the Barren Land Eskimo (Hancock House, 1989). The work was first published by Oxford University Press, New York, in the early 1950s under the title Ayorama; the new edition is fuller and uncensored. 7 Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams: Imagination and Desire in a Northern Landscape (Picador, 1987), p. 255. See also the chapter "Landscape and Narrative" in his Crossing Open Ground (New York: Vintage Books, 1989). 8 The continuation of the quotation noted in n. 7 above. 372 Review for Religious PHILIP L. BOROUGHS Using Ignatian Discernment work, ministry, or living arrangements. Diminishing energy, feel-ings of boredom or of being taken for granted, or an emerging desire for new challenges can signal a need to reappraise one's situation. Obviously, these times of transition are unsettling, and they can be stressful as one begins to let go of the security of the familiar and searches for new clarity and direction. However, these periods also can generate new possibilities and a renewed sense of responsibility for one's life. At times such as these, the Serenity Prayer of Alcoholics Anonymous seems particularly appropriate: "O God, grant me the courage to change the things that I can change, the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference." Sometimes circumstances warrant a fun-damental change in one's life, while at other times a change of attitude or behavior seems mor4 appropriate. As one critically reviews his or her situation and assesses available options, one wisely might wonder whether there are any norms or principles to help one choose among the options. In the Spiritual Exercises St. Ignatius of Loyola offers a num-ber of principles for discernment which can be extremely useful for those entering into a time of transition. One of the major goals of the Exercises is to assist those who Philip L. Boroughs SJ may be addressed at 621 17th Avenue East; Seattle, Washington 98122. May-June 1992 373 Boroughs ¯ Using Ignatian Discernment undertake them to make the right life choices. The principles of discernment reflect Ignatius's own experience of prayerful decision making, and a brief review of the major transitions in his life will offer a context for his insights. Ignatius's Life On 20 May 1521 Ignatius was wounded in the battle of Pamplona, and in the long recuperation period which followed, a fundamental reorientation of his life began. Over the next sev-eral months, as he contemplated his future, Ignatius became aware of different interior movements affecting him. Gradually he rec-ognized the patterns of these interior movements, noting that certain spirits or desires produced peace and hope while others, which initially delighted him, eventually left him sad and depressed. As a result of these fluctuations, Ignatius decided to fol-low the spirit or direction which ultimately consoled him, and thus his religious quest began in earnest. Abandoning his life as a soldier and courtier, he moved to Manresa and formally commenced a spiritual journey which grad-ually helped him to identify and understand his limits and dis-oriented attachments as well as his deepest dreams and desires. After months of intense prayer and penance, mystical experiences, and interior growth, he embarked on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. There he hoped to spend his life visiting the holy places and help-ing souls. However, after he had been in Jerusalem only nineteen days, the Roman Catholic authorities ordered him to leave. The political climate was tense, and they did not want to assume lia-bility for this questionable religious enthusiast. Accepting their legitimate authority over him, Ignatius con-cluded that it must not be God's will that he remain in Jerusalem. He decided that he needed further education if he were to serve God's people in some other capacity. He returned to Spain and began studying grammar at the University of Barcelona. Two years later he advanced to study the humanities at Alcalfi. After many months, however, his austere lifestyle and his growing rep-utation as a lay spiritual director caused such controversy that he was investigated by the Inquisition. Mthough exonerated of any wrongdoing, he was forbidden to continue his spiritual ministry. Consequently he moved to the University of Salamanca. There the same pattern was repeated, and once again he had to revise his 374 Review for Religious plans. Ignatius then transferred to the University of Paris, where he spent the next seven years earning his bachelor's and master's degrees. These were intense years of study and spiritual ministry, and they were also years when he gathered some lifelong com-panions who shared his ideals and his commitment to service. As his formal education drew to a close, Ignatius became seri-ously ill and was advised by his doctors to return to his native country to recuperate. He journeyed home with the understand-ing that he and his companions would reassemble in Venice once he had recovered. From there they hoped to gain passage for Jerusalem, where they would spend the rest of their lives in min-istry. Ignatius and his friends vowed to wait one year in Venice for passage to Jerusalem; but if they could not arrange their trip dur-ing that time because of political turmoil, they would travel to Rome and place themselves at the service of the pope. Since no ships left Venice for Jerusalem that year, they proceeded on to Rome in keeping with their vow. As their reputation for holiness and ministerial effectiveness spread, requests for their services began to arrive from various corners of the world, forcing this rather loose-knit group of friends to consider the nature of their commitment to each other. After weeks of prayerful deliberation, they decided to form a reli-gious community and elected Ignatius to be their religious supe-rior. Although he initially declined the position, subsequent prayer and consultation with his spiritual director moved him to accept. He spent the last fifteen years of his life as the superior general of the nascent Society of Jesus. During this time of rapid growth and development, Ignatius not only provided this new community with inspired leadership, but he also prayerfully drafted its con-stitutions. With the exception of his seven years at Paris and his final years in Rome, Ignatius moved fre.quently throughout his adult life. His constant effort was to discern and follow God's will within the social and historical realities of his time. A!though he was the recipient of many mystical graces, few of them provided him with specific instructions about the decisions he faced. Rather, these mystical experiences confirmed the general direction of his life and God's ongoing companionship with him. Decisions about particular choices he faced required prayer and discernment to discover God's will. Ignatius's early lessons in the discernment of spirits, his respect for human learning and reflectivity, and his May-~Tune 1992 375 Boroughs ¯ Using Ignatian Discernment courage to act once he felt he knew what God wanted of him facilitated his prayerful decision making during the numerous transitions of his life. Predispositions for Discernment Ignatius's religious experience and his Spiritual Exercises sug-gest that, if an individual wishes to enter into a process of dis-cernment in order to discover God's will, certain predispositions are necessary: interior freedom, sufficient knowledge of self and the world, imagination, patience, and the. courage to act respon-sibly. Without these graces, true discernment is not possible. Interior Freedom: The first paragraph of the Spiritual Exercises clearly asserts that interior freedom is a sine qua non for finding God's will: "We call Spiritual Exercises every way of preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments and, after their removal, of seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul" (SpEx 1). When Ignatius speaks of ridding oneself of inordinate attach-ments, he can be very explicit. In the Meditation on the TWO Standards, he identifies inordinate attachments primarily as temp-tations to riches, honor, and pride (SpEx 142). Today we might describe them as an attachment to possessions or a specific lifestyle, a desire for recognition or a preoccupation with the opinion of others, and an insistence on being in control of one's life or radical self-sufficiency. Ignatius believed that attachments " ~uch as these would so condition one's life that one's relationship with God would be seriously compromised and one's freedom to find God's will would be lost. During times of transition in a person's life, other variations of inordinate attachments also can surface. For example, at the first sign of serious difficulty, some people immediately search for new living or work possibilities, fearful of the asceticism required for long-term commitments. Others, feeling misunder-stood and unvalued, find it easier to cling to chronic anger and bit-terness than to identify and address the source of these feelings and move to a more integrated life. Still others become so com-pletely preoccupied with their own personal growth that they ignore the legitimate needs of those whose lives are intercon-nected with theirs. Whatever form an inordinate attachment takes, 376 Review for Religious it can effectively inhibit the possibility of true discernment because it centers one's life in oneself rather than in God. Knowledge: True spiritual freedom or detachment depends on self-knowledge. More than just an understanding of one's limits or even one's patterns of temptation, self-knowledge requires a pro-found awareness of one's gifts and one's deepest desires. However, during times of transition, individuals frequently say that they do not really know what they want. This is often part of the initial unrest which introduces a need for change. But it also can be an invitation for individuals to reclaim their deepest desires, those essential values which give ultimate meaning to their lives, their relationships, and their involvement with the world. For example, when one becomes overwhelmed juggling the increasing demands of family and career, or exhausted by the mounting expectations of one's ministerial position, or seriously disillusioned by institutional intransigence, identifying again or reformulating one's deepest desires provides a starting point for making new choices. Articulating one's deepest desires helps one to prioritize commitments and can provide some perspective for letting go of tfiose concerns which jeopardize whfit is more impor-tant. Sometimes people come to realize that .they have to r~con-sider tfieir original life commitment because of s.ubsequent choices they have made over the years. Others may discern that their deepest desires have not changed, but their they have to find a new oi" healthier way of living them out. S~ill others may experi-ence a call to liv~ out their original commitment even more rad-ically. Reapp~:opriating one's deepest desires is a critical dimension of self-knowiedge. However, for Ignatius self-knowledge was not enough. He spent many years studying in some of the most respected univer-sities of his day and achieved an advanced degree in theology because he believed that education was a critical component for ministry. He even rediaced his intense spiritual activities during his university years because he discerned that his ex[ended prayer was interfering with his con~mitment to study. Ignatius emphasized education as a significant component in the formation of young Jesuits and as an important ministry of the Society of Jesus because through it he promoted the ongoing transformation of individu-als, church, and society. Consequently, not only knowing oneself, but also knowing the complexities of any given situation, pos- May-June 1992 377 Boroughs ¯ Using Iffnatian Discernment sessing a critical understanding of systems and structures, and having sufficient education for one's current ministry or some new possibility are critical dimensions of a discernment process. Imagination: Knowledge in concert with imagination can produce new possibilities. Ignatius clearly manifested an imaginative approach to ministry through the creation of the Society of Jesus and its novel structures and methods. He also used the power of imagination in his approach to prayer. Through an imagina

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 48.1 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 47.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Sept./Oct. 1988 Volume 47 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~.wEw EOR R~.LtGWOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW ~o~t REI.IGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Social Dimensions of Religious Ministry Joseph P. Daoust, S.J. This is a slightly revised version of Father Daoust's well-received address on August 13, 1986, to the thirtieth national assembly of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. He has been his province's assistant for social ministries and higher educa-tion. At present he is on sabbatical in Africa and Asia and has no fixed residence, but he may be addressed at Jesuit Provincial Office; 7303 W. Seven Mile Road; De-troit, Michigan 48221. In a terrifying image of where our civilization is leading us, a prominent Italian writer envisions Western 'man (and woman) becoming like an earth-worm: a simple organism having only mouth, intestines, and anus, do-ing nothing but ingesting, digesting, excreting. ! It is an image of pro-ducing in order to consume, and consuming mindlessly in order to move what has been produced through our societal '.~'gut." Any kind of con-sumption will do, just as the earthworm moves any kind of soil through its intestinal tube. Indeed, that is how the earthworm (and Homo con-sumens) moves ahead in dark, dank, endless underground burrows-- consuming, producing, excreting. When indigestion sets in because of overproduction, war serves as a purgative,°consuming the detritus of ex-cess lives and goods, relieving the constipation of our maniacally pro-ducing and consuming system. Such is one vision of what we are doing to ourselves as a society. There is another vision of what society can become: [God] will reign over many peoples and arbitrate for mighty nations; and they shall beat their swords into pl6wshares,.and their spears into prun-ing hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. But they shall sit, everyone under his vine and un- 641 649 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 der his fig tree, and none, shall make them afraid; for the mo~th of the Lord of hosts has spoken it (Mi 4:3-4). In this vision, peace comes when each peasant has enough of the earth's goods for simple sustenance and can sit in quiet contemplation of the goodness of a just and beautiful world. All of this is achieved by learning God's ways and walking in God's path.2 Neither of these visions is fully realized in our world today. There are forces at work leading toward the first; the Spirit of God continues the age-old struggle to draw us toward the second. We are called as citi-zens of this age, as Christians, as religious, to invest our lives in help-ing our society make the ancient Deuteronomic choice: "I set before you life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants may live" (Dr 30:19). Life is what the reign of God would bring about in our midst; the flowering of a society of justice and peace. The reign of God has profound social consequences. Justice and God's Reign: Scriptural Considerations in Scripture the reign of God is inextricably linked with social trans-formation. When Israel came to know Yahweh, it was as a God who heard their groaning in slavery and delivered them out of bondage (Dt 10:18-19). Remembering their own deliverance by God, the Israelites were bound in covenant not to oppress the poor or weak in their midst (Ex 22:21ff.). For Yahweh is a God who hears the cry of the poor (Ps 34:6). Again and.again Yahweh intervened through the prophets to call Israel back to this elemental demand: Is not th'is the sort of religious p?actice that pleases me?--it is thb Lord Yahweh who speaks--to break unjust fetters and Undo the thongs of the yoke, to let'the oppressed go free., to share your bread with the hun-gry and shelter the homeless poor, to clothe the man you see to be na-ked and not turn from your own kin? Then will your light shine like the dawn and your wound be quickly healed over. Your in.tegrity will go be-fore you and the glory of Yahweh behind you (Is.58:6-8; see also 1: 16, 10:1, 42:5). The religions and gods of the ancient Near East were primarily con-cerned with the legitimation of the established order of things3 (a func-tion still all too current today!), Imperial power, divinely ordained class structures, codes of behavior which reinforced "the way things have al-ways been"--these were the trappings of (eligions whose gods could be captured in images, located in certain sacred places, and therefore con-trolled. The divine power was thus subject to purchase (propitiation), Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64:3 able to be administered and routinized so as to support society's estab-lished ways of proceeding. Israel in the Old Testament is constantly tempted to refashion God in controllable images. Royal leaders and wealthy classes are portrayed as the initiators of this "whoring after' other gods" so as to legitimate their oppression, wars, and sumptuous ways. What distinguishes ancient Israel from surrounding societies is the constant intrusion of an imageless God, who refuses to dwell in temples or in"gold idols fashioned and controlled by the powerful. Yahweh dwells only ineffably on high, and with the lowly (Is 56: 15). Israel's God is dis-engaged from the ways of worldly power and identifies over and over again with the marginal, the dispossessed in society.'~ Indeed the iden-tity of this imageless God cannot be captured in traditional religious ways, but is expressed only by what Yahweh does--primarily acts of so-cial liberation: I am Yahweh . . . who delivered you from bondage (Ex 20:1), who loves j,ustice (Ps 99:4), who sees justice done for the orphan and widow, who answers the poor and needy (Ps 86:1 ), who chooses the weak (Dt 7:7), who reduces princes to nothing, and annihilates the rulers of the world (Is 40:23). Jesus spends his public ministry extending the good news of God's compassion and reign to all. It was a scandal to his contemporaries that he especially~ included suspect classes (shepherds, publicans, tax collec-tors), social outcasts (lepers, prostitutes, adulterers, Samaritans), and the poor. He went to his death coffsciously assuming the role of the Suffer-ing °Servant of Yahweh, knowing that this was the only way to bring about the reign of his Father. Some sought his death because he reso-lutely presented an unconventional, iconoclastic face of God Ioying the outcast, the db'wntrodden, the poor--"He has blasphemed.'~ Others sought his death because' his proclamation of God's justice threatened the social order.5 The Scriptures, then, portray a God who cares passionately about jus-tice, indeed even a "pain-embracing" God6 who acts in solidarity es-pecially with the oppressed and the marginalized. Christ in his ministry and message seals this revelatioh of God constantly acting in the world so as to bring about its transformation. The Gospels close with Christ risen inviting us down through the ages to "Follow me." Justice and God's Reign: Cultural Considerations Down through the ages the Church has wrestled with that impera- 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 tive with varying degrees of success. Like the Israelites of old, the Church is often tempted to replace the radical, transforming call of the Gospel with something more palatable to the cultural and social powers that be. Oppressive divisions of wealth and power, wars to protect these divisions, sumptuous living for some and dire poverty for others--these still need legitimation as of old. The idols which legitimate today are ide-ologies, social and economic theories, materialism and consumerism apo-theosized as a way of life. Idolatry in a literate society is more likely to use words than precious metals to achieve its effects. But religion is still being domesticated so as to legitimate and maintain, rather than confront, these idolized patterns of injustice. One hundred fifty years ago, Alexis de Tocqueville visited America and found our culture and social institutions permeated with a new idea: Individualism is a calm and considered feeling which disposes each citi-zen to isolate himself from the mass of his fellows and withdraw into the circle of family and friends; with this little society formed to his taste, he gladly leaves the greater society to look after itself . They form the habit of thinking of themselves in isolation and imagine that their whole destiny is in their hands . Each man is forever thrown back upon himself alone, and there is danger that he may be shut up in the solitude of his own heart.7 This individualism intersected congruently, then as it does now, with the competitive pursuit of self-interest, defined in terms of material well-being. But de Tocqueville found these social "habits of the heart" coun-terbalanced and modulated by a strong tradition of biblical faith, with its emphasis on self'-sacrifice for the common good, supported by the re-publican virtues of our early democracy: public duty and civic equity. Modern commentators have found these modulating forces to be with-ering, and individualism, competition, and rampant pursuit of material self-interest becoming exclusive social preoccupations.8 Individualism, like any other human creation, has much to recommend it, much human value. But when it becomes absolute, unquestioned, unfettered, it dis-torts and truncates human interaction. Its idolization creates and sustains injustice in society on a mass scale. Recent studies of American life and religious values have shown the distortions that unfettered individualism produces ir~ our cultural patterns of faith and religion.9 Historically., the disestablishment of religion America may have helped compartmentalize religious faith away from public social concerns. But religious individualism has been the moving force for the privatization of religious faith and practice. Social and cul- Social Dimensions of Ministry / 645 tural patterns of our society have been immunized from religious critique or challenge in the faith of many. Religion is felt to deal only with per-sonal or family issues; it intersects with public policy only to challenge it if' it intrudes on these narrow issues. Other social policies and struc-tures, individualism itself, materialism, the competitive economic envi-ronment- all are beyond the competence of religious critique. God and faith have no relevance in the marketplace, the business or political world, or anywhere outside the "soft" inner realm of the personal and the familial. In fact, religion blesses "the way things are" in these secu-lar real-world social settings. It legitimates them and the results they bring about, as effectively as the compartmentalization of religion to tem-ple worship and sacrifices did in ancient Israel, with consequent uncon-cern for the oppressed, the hungry, the poor. Religion is seen culturally by most as an idiosyncratic choice, a strictly personal preference or conviction as to which "brand" each per-son would like to "consume." And American consumers of religion largely choose a faith distorted by cultural forces so as to give them res-pite from social chaos and from a sense of social destiny beyond their control. They do this by retreating inward, to focus on the inner self, or by retreating outward, to externally imposed structure coming, they be-lieve, directly from God. The first of these privatized patterns of religion, the dominant U.S. cultural preference, is the retreat inwards to the inner self. ~0 Personal ex-perience of one's inner self is the one secure basis for religious mean-ing. Self-realization, personal growth, is the highest aspiration. There is a great similarity to the goals and language of psychological therapy. Re-ligious practice is spiritual utilitarianism: "What's in it for me?" Spiri-tual experience is primarily individual and prescinds from the world and its problems. The world and even God are seen in terms of their impact on this inner self. Morality is individualistici commitments to others, to the world, are transient: "s(~ long as it feels right or helps me grow." The Church can be reduced to a kind of spiritual Kiwanis Club or psy-chological. therapy group in the individual's pursuit of self-fulfilling ex-perience. The second pattern of religious individualism is no less privatized. It is more prevalent among the less affluent, or among those whose self-image is not strong enough to found religious meaning there. Faith is placed in sources of meaning external to self and the real world. God speaks from "outside'"the ordinary world (and the inner self), directly giving rules and tenets which, if they are rigidly adhered to, will bring 646 / Review~or Religious, September-October 1988 about salvat.ion of the obedient individuai--there is little hope for the world. Fundamentalist adherence to biblical texts, magistral father fig-ures, or traditions gives meaning and some sense of security in a bewil-dering social Order. Morality is personalistic rather than societal; it deals with interpersonal and family relations in clear, simple answers; it leaves unchallenged the sociocultural setting in which these are played out. The world, society at large, is either beyond question or beyond salvation. In either case, faith has little to say to it. ., Both of.these cultural patterns of religion, therapeutic withdrawal to the inner self and sectarian withdrawal to external structure, are the prod-uct of individualism. It is individualism retreating from confrontation with a chaotic, seemingly uncontrollable social environment. Material-ism, competitive pursuit of self-interest, ruthless power pervade the secu-lar realm of business, politics, the media. Recent rapid shifts in social structures and paradigms destabilize a cultural setting already inhospita-ble to traditional religious values. Individuals, frightened, isolated, pow-erless, withdraw from the imperatives of biblical faith which might re-quire them to confront these social forces to work for the new creation of God's reign. A religion of inner escape or outer control seems to of-fer a haven from the heartless world. But both forms of religion lack the ability to integrate the self and/or God with the surrounding society. Per-sonalized religious experience supplants the "mighty acts of Yahweh" as the basis for belief. And such faith is fragile, fading when the per-sonal experience fades. There is only a faint hold on commitments, to faith itself and to the other-centered giv.ing which builds on faith. Church, rather than being the fundamental sacrament of God's insertion into the world, becomes a community of convenience or of protection from the world. In solipsism or sectarian withdrawal, religion stands apart from worldly matters. It is a pale shadow of robust biblical faith: the faith of a people on mission from a world-transforming God. This description of American religious behavior is not just the way millions.of lay believers of all religious backgrounds practice their faith. These are tidal forces affecting the faith life of all of us as members religious orders and congregations. We are equally tempted to withdraw from the fullness of biblical faith into therapeutic blandness or rigid struc-turalism. We too can live more easily with these idolized forms of relig-ion, which neither do justice nor admit the injustice of such unconcern. Religious life itself can become an enclave for self-realization or secu-rity, safely compartmentalized away from the rigors of God's call and mission to a troubled world wracked by social sin. Which one of us has Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64"/ not felt keenly the longing to huddle, Jonah-like, even in the belly of a whale, rather than face Nineveh? Justice and God's Reign: New Directions But also in our lifetimes as religious, we have witnessed a remark-able movement of God's Spirit. It is transforming the Church and relig-ious life, calling us again to our biblical roots. The God who cares pas-sionately about this world, who hates idols and the injustice they le-gitimate, is neither absent nor sitting quietly in a culturally designed com-partment. Embracing the pain of the poor and the marginalized, God broods over our bent world "with warm breast and with ah! bright wings." ~ In Vatican II, the Church chose to position itself as a people in serv-ice to the world, seeking to transform it in the biblical image of God's justice. ~- The 197 ! Synod of Bishops specified this further: J~stice and participation in the transforming of the world fully appear to us ~s a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the gospel, or, 'in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation (Justice in the World, no. 6). The social teaching of the Church has gone~ beyond a reformist long-ing for organic, static society. In ,.magisterial teaching and theological de-velopment there is the commitment to struggle for and with the margi-nhlized to achieve justice. The spiritual is not compartmentalized from the affai'rs of this world, but integrated as a critical, driving force to shape '~'a new earth where justice will abide.''~3 In'theory and in prac-tice, from Medellin to the Philippines, in our inner cities and in recent pastoral letters of U.S. Bishops, we have witnessed the Church exercis-ing the ancient 'special love of Yahweh for the poor. ~4 Our challenging mission is newly clear, as are the many social forces which oppose it. It is the mission of our "pain-embracing" God, it is the mission of Christ see~king the reign of God.' It is fresh and new in our age, and as old as the prophets: "This is wfiat Yahweh asks of you, only this: to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). What Justice Requires But what does it mean to do justice'? or to transform the world? or change social structures? The justice which flows :from faith in Yahweh has a dynamic, trans- 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 formative quality. Subtle philosophical distinctions may be appropriate for impartial, uninvolved observers. But there is a simplicity and stark-ness to biblical justice questions, which are raised in God's name from peasants (Amos, Micah), slaves (Moses), and exiles. ~5 The royal circles of Egypt, Jerusalem, or Rome are preoccupied with questions of pros-perity (how to get more) or security (how to keep it). The prophetic voices from below demand that freedom, sustenance, places of dignity in the community be given (back) to every one Of God's chosen people. Everyone has a right to these goods, as a birthright from God who cre-ated and gave them all to the community in the ~fi~:st place. God will act to make things right again if those in power will not listen. The primary expectation of God from Israel is the doing of justice, in this sense sharing with or restoration to those on the margin of society: the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the poor. Every other ethical norm or covenan-tal requirement flows from this reading of social reality. There is to be a redistribution of social power and goods to achieve a society where all can sit under their own vine and fig tree, with no one to trouble them. Or as gentle Mary puts it in Luke: "[God] has pulled down princes from their thrones and exalted the lowly. The hungry he has filled, with good things, the rich sent empty away" (Lk 1:52-53). The pastoral letter of the U.S. bishops, Economic Justice for All, contains an eloquent articu-lation of what justice requires in our times. The scriptural section of that letter is especially worth meditating upon, to touch i'nto our faith as the force which moves us to justice. The religious reality described there can be summarized as the community of the human race--the community in which and through which God creates each of us as individiaals-- building community. This community is given all of creation to enjoy, and God's love be-sides. In response, God asks in covenant that the community be com-mitted to care for one another, that they show the same resilient love (he-sed) and solidarity toward each other that God has Shown them, The touchstone of this solidarity, from the time of the prophets, has been whether the community cares for those at the margins of society, those without power to demand a share of what the community has been given by God. This preferential option for the poor is as ancient and as crucial to the covenant as Yahweh's earliest commands to Israel concern-ing the widow, the orphan, the stranger in the land (Ex 22:20; Dt 10:.18). In fulfillment of the covenant, the community needs to do more than distribute food and clothing to the poor~ It has to bring ,them in from the margins, allowing them to participate in the creative life of the commu- Social Dimensions of Ministry nity. Then they can provide for themselves in dignity and will no longer be marginalized. In this, the pastoral letter goes beyond the usual em-phasis, in Catholic practice, on works of charity. These are seen to be insufficient since the poor have a right to a creative place in society, not just to be passive recipients of our largess. Bringing the marginalized into full participation in community life will, of course, build up the community itself. It will then be more able to show solidarity to those still at the margin, bringing them into fuller participation, and so forth. The cycle of response to the covenant is also the cycle of the community regenerating and building itself up as a soci-ety of justice. The ~uli religious insight is that, in this dbing of justice to one another, God is made present, is found, is worshiped at the cen-ter of this communal re-creation. Faith and justice reinforce each other, even merge, as God moves us to transform our society. This cycle de-scribes positively how God cails us through justice to renew the face of the earth. But there is also resistance to the Spirit of God; it creates injustice in the structures of society and reverses the cycle of creating a commu-nity of justice. A community can tear itself apart by denying meaningful participation to the poor, ignoring the increasing masses of the margi-nalized, replacing communal solidarity with relentless pursuit of self-interest. This injustice the Spirit of God calls upon us to confront, for the Spirit "convinces the world concerning sin and justice and judg-ment" (Jn 16:8).~6 A practical example may clarify how social structures can resist trans-formation. Some one hundred fifty years ago, the Jesuits in Maryland owned slaves. When Jesuit authorities in Rome remonstrated with them over this situation, the American Jesuits responded that the slaves were being very well cared for and, indeed, would likelY suffer much worse if they wei'e given their freedom and turned loose in American society. The Jesuits of Maryland missed seeing the social structure--slavery-- which needed to be transformed, and focused on the personal dimension of care the slaves received. It seems so evident now, but to those en-meshed in the toils of unjust social structures, they often seem "natu-ral," "the way things are,", unquestionable and unconfrontable. The U.S. bishops of the last century were also unable to confront slavery as an institution until the Civil War settled the question for everyone. ~7 One wonders if the terrible price of that war would have been paid had the churches and religious .people of the land not resisted, by and large, the call of the Spirit to transform the structure of slavery. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 While it is clear that God can work to bring good even from wars and great social cataclysms, this is not the way in which the Spirit of God desires to achieve the transformation of the world. The model of the Suf-fering Servant of Isaiah becomes normative for us in the cross of Jesus. Justice is a constitutive element of what the reign of God is about, but "suffering with" the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized is the man-ner of achieving God's jus.tice. We are called to follow our "pain-embracing" God, and our crucified Lord, in confr6nting the evil of this world. It is a manner far different from ou~ ordinary human institutions of violence, vengeance, and material power. God's ways are not ours, and God's just,~'ce cannot be fully achieved w. ithout a~lopting God's ways. Principles of Ministry for the Reign of God If I have been at all clear, it seems to me that two principles flow from what has been developed thus far. I would like to make these two principles explicit, go on to a couple practical strategies for implement-ing them, and then conclude with three sets of questions for considera-tion. What God has done for us and what God asks of us create a first prin-ciple. An essential part of the reign of God is justice, specifically the jus-tice which flows from living out a faith in Yahweh, faith in Jesus. There-fore, followers of Christ should have a concern for justice as a central focus of all their ministries. There are not justice ministries separate from other ministries, any more than there can be ministries separated from faith. Faith and justice are the complementary core of all Christian min-istry. Secondly, the "pain-embracing" love of God, especially inclusive of the marginalized in soc.iety, characterizes the ministry of Jesus "even unto death, death on a cross." The followers of Jesus are missioned to work for the reign of God in like fashion: through experiencing the strug-gle for justice "from below," at the sidle of the downtrodden, accept-ing the conflict or defeat which that entails, believing in the way of the Suffering Servant who is the Lord. Practical, Strategies The following suggestions are practical strategies for implementing these two principles. They are not new, but they might be helpful~ 1. Reflection on mihistry, and particularly on the justice dimension of ministry, should be based on experience. We experience the living God in ~'the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men [and women] of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way Social Dimensions of Ministry / 651 afflicted.'? ~8 Christ dies and rises again for us in sharing the struggles and visions of real people. Experience draws us beyond ideologies and preconceptions; it energizes us for our quest for the reign of God. But the experience must be reflected upon. Stream-of-consciousness ministry may be personally vivifying, but it does not help us understand the social forces that create what we experience, or how we habitually respond. Social analysis can gradually remove the limitations of our cul-tural blinders and make us more critically aware of the social structures which must be transformed to "make clear the way of the Lord" (Mr 3:3). But so~zial analysis is often sterile, immobilizing, unless it is joined with faith and reflection on what God is saying to us. Relating both our experience and our analysis to the wellsprings of our own faith life en-ergizes us to act, and inspires us to discern how to act, for the reign of God. Our ministry is, then, m~ade reflective and revivifieO. And it gives us. further experience, which can be further reflected upon, leading to fur-ther inspiration and discernment. And so on. Many of you will recognize this process for reflection on ministry. It has been variously called the hermeneutic circle, the circle of praxis, or the pastoral cycle. 19 It is a methodology for moving steadily and re-flectively toward more authentic ministry. It may sound a little ominous at first, with terms like "social analysis" and '.'theological reflection." But it can be done very simply. It has been effective among illiterate peas-ants. 2° All of us ought to be able to do it. As a strategy for ongoing re-flection on ministry, it is.best when done communally, as a form of com-munal discernment. 2. In all ministries, there is the opportunity to experience the joys, hopes, griefs, and anxieties of ordinary people. But at least in orders like the Jesuits, most ministerial settings provide scant opportunity to come into contact with the poor and the marginalized. This should not mean that these ministries are exempt 'from the imperatives of justice-seeking or that they are unable to carry out ministry for the reign of God authen-tically. Ministries such as education or pastoral work with middle- and upper-class publics can seriously commit themselves to the work of con-scientization for the reign of God. These ministries deal with those who exercise power and influence over "the way things are"; their publics can bring about or at least come to tolerate changes in the social order which lead toward justice for the marginalized. It is a crucial element of the mission of all these ministries to communicate the call of the liv-ing God for solidarity, especially with the marginalized, and to urge con- 659 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 sistently that social injustices be transformed to bring about the reign of God. But particularly in these ministries, the lack of any lived experience of the poor or oppressed strengthens ct]ltural-religious tendencies toward therapeutic blandness or conformist externalism. We should attempt to build into these ministries, and into the lives of their publics, some ex-perience of real people living at the margins, victims of unjust social con-ditions. There are immersion programs, social-service projects, inte-grated discussion groups, and other forms of contact between people whom our social structures tend to isolate from each other. Such ex-periences will often be episodic, ephemeral, perhaps even seem voyeur-istic. But they can be honed to a finer edge of reality if they are carried out in cooperation with people who are in consistent, full-time ministry or presence among the poor. Within religious congregations we can leaven all our ministries by missioning some of our best people to ministry among the poor, asking them to share with all of us the insights and challenges of their lived ex-perience. The enlivening experience of God present at the margins can be corporate, shared by brothers or sisters in widely divergent ministries, if conscious efforts are made to foster such sharing. For this leavening to occur, it is important that the religious we mission to ministry among the poor be among our best, mainstream people willing and able to in-teract with a wide range of our corporate membership. My experience has been that we too often allow the lone rangers, the disaffected, the angry, or the difficult to wander off in ministry to the poor. Or we so isolate good folks sent into difficult ministries of social justice that they burn out quickly. As religious communities we can become more effec-tively present with the poor, with consequent enriching of all our apos-tolates, if we will take care to engage in such ministry corporately and reflectively. Mere presence among the marginalized does not guarantee any re-flective stance, in terms of either social analysis or theological reflec-tion. There is ample evidence of religious, ministering regularly among the poor, who never question the social structures which afflict their peo-ple. Or worse, they adopt a benevolent one-way relationship of "giv-ing" to the poor, rather than living with and learning from them about the reality of God. To counter these tendencies, itis helpful to be in con-tact with those engaged in the direct ministry of social change, challeng-ing some aspect of social injustice from an integrated faith perspective. As a full-time occupation, religious ministry for social change is rare Social Dimensions of Ministry / 653 this country. There is every indication that God's spirit is calling us, through the Church, to make it more prevalent. But it is unlikely to be-come a dominant mode of ministry in any religious congregation. That does not mean that a few good men or women could not be missioned, in each of the larger ~ongregations, to engage in this newly urgent min-istry. Not only will this serve social transformation for the reign of God; it can helpail our ministries become more competent to deal with the so-cial and theological questions most pressing in our society. Small or large religious congregations can relate to interreligious social-justice centers in most major cities of the United States. And individuals in any minis-try can become advocates of social change in one area or another, as par-ticipants in coalitions of concerned people devoting time and energy out-side their ordinary works to transforming society.2~ There should be no religious congregation so burdened with maintaining historical com-mitments that it cannot find ways to mission at least some key members to collaborative or part-time work for social justice, so as to leaven the entire ministry of the group. In this strategy, then, every ministry can participate in some level of social action for the reign of God: conscientization of the more afflu-ent and powerful, ministry of presence and social service among the marginalized, direct ministry for social change of unjust social structures. Having all three levels of social ministry within a congregation, if there is communication and cross-fertilization among them, can enrich the mis-sion of all for the reign of God. Even where all three levels are not pos-sible, much the same effect can be achieved by collaboration with other religious and lay people committed to working for the transformation of society. No matter which ministries are present within a congregation, all must become imbued with a central concern for social justice. The reign of God and the love of Christ draw us all to this. Some Questions for Consideration Let me turn now to three sets of questions, for which, I assure you, I have no answers. But they may be worth wrestling with in thinking about the future of religious life. I. Most religious congregations had as part of their founding charism a special concern for ministry among the poor.22 Most of our congrega-tions several generations ago ministered mainly among the poor in Amer-ica: immigrant Slavs and Germans, Italians and Irish, still on the mar-gins of American society. Why now are the vast majority of American male religious working in ministries for the more affluent? Was it a form 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 of ministerial "bracket creep," where we drifted up the income ladder along with the traditional publics we served, moving with them in from the margins of American society? If we were to decide anew about where to focus our ministries, what might the Spirit call us to do for the reign of God? 2. Most young men and women coming into reiigious life have been formed by American sociocultural conditioning. They look to religion to foster their own self-realization or to shelter them from the world's turmoil through external authority. Our older veterans of religious life are subject to these same alluring siren songs of American cultural relig-ion. Doour models of early and continuing formation, with their empha-sis on psychosocial development or on external structures of religious life, challenge cultural limitations of religious belief and practice? How much therapeutic self-nurturing or sheltering in external authority do we allow? How can we transcend these tendencies in order to instill full bib-lical faith, which integrates God, society, and self? How form religious for mission, to join our suffering, pain-embracing God in transforming the world? 3. The last set of questions is not mine. They come from Archbishop Weakland when he was asked how Jesuits could help implement the so-cial vision of the Economic Pastoral. :His response went something like this: (a) You Jesuits have a lot of access to the powerful in society. They are your alumni, counselees, fellow board members. You turn to them to support~your own works. Will you use that access to power on behalf of the marginalized and their agenda of justice? (b)You Jesuits have ex-perience of the third world, knowledge of the marginalized. Will you bring that forcefully into the consciousness of the American people, who are so woefully ill-informed about the struggles and attitudes of the poor? (c) There are many good young people, in business, the professions, or factories, who are dissatisfied with what our society offers. They want to remain lay men and women, but long for a way of life, a vision, more consonant with the Gospel. Can you imagine, and then image credible lifestyles and life goals for these lay Christians? Archbishop Weakland's q'uestions are generalizable, I would think, for almost any religious con-gregation. Conclusion ¯ I would like to observe, in conclusion, that fait.h does not seem to be a question at the margins of society. Faith in God is very much alive in the third world and in the inner city. There the overwhelming ques-tions are those of justice. Faith seems most fragile and in doubt in the Social Dimensions of Ministry / 655 sterile, cluttered tunnels of our earthworm society of affluence. Faith with-ers here, though we overnurture it with self-concern, though we fence it in with our fears. But faith in the living God is a wild thing. It thrives at the margins, where struggle and hope for God's justice blaze brightest. If we go there, our own religious life may be rekindled, as we join our God in renewing the face of the earth. Let us go, then, without guilt or rage. Let us go in joy because our God draws us, calls us to join the struggle there for the transformation of the world. There, too, we shall meet the love of our lives, Jesus the Lord. NOTES ~ Alberto Moravia, The Red Book and the Great Wall (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1968);' pp. 12-21. -~ Mi 4:2. See Walter Brueggemann, "Vine and Fig Tree: A Case Study in Imagina-tion and Criticism," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 188-204. 3 See W. Brueggemann, '~OId Testament Theology as a Particular Conversation: Ad-judication of Israel's Socio-Theological Alternatives," Theology Digest 32:4 (1985): 302-325. This excellent study of the conne~ztion between Old Testament theophany and justice in the social order was the Bellarmine Lecture at St. Louis University in 1985. I am indebted to it for many of the insights in this scriptural section. 4 See Norman Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh (Orbis, 1979), chapter 49: "Mutual Reinforcement of Yahwism and Social Egalitarianism." 5 Jn 11:48-51. See Jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads (Orbis, 1978), pp. 201 ff. 6 The term is Brueggemann's. See his "A Shape for Old Testament Theology: Em-brace of Pain," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 47:3 (I 985): 395-415. 7 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, first published 1835-1840. Quota-tion is from Anchor Books edition (1969), pp. 506-510. 8 See J. F. Kavanaugh, Following Christ in a Consumer Society (Orbis, 1981), or his address to this Assembly in 1985: "Religious Life and Leadership in the Con-text of American Culture." From a different perspective, see Daniel Bell, The Cul-tural Contradictions of Capitalism (Basic Books, 1976). 9 An outstanding example of such studies is Robert Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart (Univ. of California Press, 1985). I have relied upon it heavily for this section: ! cannot recommend it highly enough. Another recent study of religious and social trends concurs with much of Bellah's findings: see J. Chittister and M. Marty, eds., Faith and Ferment (Augsburg/Liturgical Press, 1983). ~0 See Bellah, op. cir., pp. 235ff. ~ The phrase is from G. M. Hopkins's poem, "'God's Grandeur" (1877). ~2 See especially Gaudium et Spes, nn. I-3 and passim. ~3 Gaudium et Spes, n. 39. See C. Curran, "Catholic Social Ethics: A New Ap-proach'?" Clergy Review (Feb.-Mar. 1985). 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ~'~ On the history of the preferential option for the poor, see D. Dorr, Option for the Poor: A Hundred Years of Vatican Social Teachings (Orbis, 1983). ~5 See Brueggemann, Parks, and Groome, To Act Justly, Love Tenderly, Walk Hum-bly: An Agenda for Ministers (Paulist Press, 1986), a fine series of reflections on the Micah text and on justice. m6 See Pope John Paul ll's two recent encyclicals on sinful social structures, Domi-hum et Vivificantem (1986), no. 56; and Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (1988), passim. ~7 See Doris Gottemoeller's talk to this Assembly in 1985: "Challenges to Relig-ious Leadership from a Changing U.S. Church," p. 7. ~8 Gaudium et Spes, no. 1. 19 As developed, respectively, by Juan Segundo, The Theology of Liberation (Or-bis, 1976); by Paolo Freire, The Pedagogy of the Oppzessed (Herder & Herder, 1970); and by Holland & Henriot, Social Analysis (Center of Concern, 1984). The last has a simple, practical treatment in chapter I. 20 See Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname (Orbis, 1979). 2~ Examples nationally include: Amnesty International, Bread for the World, Catho-lic Worker, Fellowship of Reconciliation, Interfaith Action for Economic Justice, Just Life, Network, Pax Christi, to name only a few. There are countless local and regional grouPs as well. 22 From a brief survey of the self-descriptions of U.S. male religious groups listed in the latest vocation guide, Ministries for the~ Lord: A Resource Guide and Direc-tory of Catholic Church Vocations for Men (Paulist Press, 1985), this seems to be true for the great majority of nonmonastic religious congregations of men. I'd Love to, Lord, But. Paul Wachdorf Father Wachdorf's "Leading People into Prayer" appeared in our May/June 1988 issue. His address remains the same: University of Saint Mary of the Lake; Munde-lein, Illinois 60060. In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 4, Jesus returns to his home town of Naza-reth, goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath, and reads from the prophet Isaiah: The spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore, he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord (Lk 4:18-19). These words give a tone and a direction to the public ministry Jesus was about to begin. In 1971, the Synod of Bishops meeting in Rome produced a docu-ment entitled Justice in the World in which they state: 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, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemp-tion of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation (Justice in the World, Synod of Bishops, Second General Assembly, Nov. 30, 197 I). The teachings and the ministry of Jesus and the teachings of the Church have consistently proclaimed that action on behalf of justice is not simply an option, not just a matter of personal preference or inter-est, but is an integral part of the gospel message and the Christian life-style as we are called upon to live it. 657 Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Given the crucial importance of this ministry in the Church and in the world today, I would like to reflect on my own journey into and ex-perience of the ministry of social justice from two viewpoints. First, I will look at some of the common resistances people encounter in them-selves as they hear the gospel challenge of social justice. Then, I want to examine some possible steps which people might profitably pursue to help them break through their resistances and respond more fully to the challenge of social justice. Intellectual Assent vs. Active Participation For the past seven years I have worked with the social justice pro-gram at Mundelein Seminary. Prior to that, I served in a parish for six years. During my years in a parish, I always gave intellectual and verbal assent to the principles of social justice. After all, how could I as a priest do otherwise? But as I look back on those years, I realize that my no-tional assent was not often translated into real and different patterns of behavior. Practicing what I preached about social justice was no simple task, although I did not realize that at the time. Resistances, Excuses, Rationalization~ After my appointment to the seminary, I was elected as the faculty representative for our Peace and Justice Committee. Frankly, I was not enthused about this appointment. But since ! felt somewhat insecure in my new environment and in my new work, it seemed to be an offer I could not refuse. I began to think about my commitment and involvement, l won-dered, "What am I supposed to do?" Soon I recognized within me sev-eral resistances, excuses, and rationalizations. In the past, they had kept me from becoming involved in the ministry of social justice in any sig-nificant way. I wanted to say yes to the Lord and to respond to the call of social justice. But my excuses kept getting in the way. At that point, I realized that 1 would have to critique my resistances with honesty through dialogue and prayer. Otherwise, my resistances would effec-tively block me from ever becoming involved in any way at all. Prophets Are Not Popular Quickly, I recognized the first resistance. Prophets are not popular. From Old Testament times to the present day, men and women who sting the conscience of a nation, a people, or a Church become unpopular. They are often criticized; they have their motives questioned; and they are pushed to the fringes of society. I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 659 ! remember very clearly an incident that happened as I was growing up. In the early 1960s, Dr. Martin Luther King led a march through my neighborhood, a white Catholic stronghold, to Marquette Park. I remem-ber standing on the corner on which my parish church and rectory were located watching the march. There were hundreds of white people lin-ing both sides of the street. Many of them were shouting, cursing, or throwing things at the marchers. Two of the priests came out of the rec-tory and began telling the people to go home and leave the marchers alone. Some of the people responded by cursing at the priests and tell-ing them to mind their own business. I saw a man spit on one of the priests. The following Sunday at Mass, the priests spoke out in favor of the marchers and their cause and spoke against the behavior of the bystand-ers, many of whom were good parishioners, pillars of the church. A few people at the Mass got up and walked out. Those days, I helped count the Sunday collection. That week and for a few weeks afterward, the col-lection went down significantly. I have never forgotten that incident. I still admire the courage of my parish priests. At the same time, I am aware that my later reluctance in seminary and in my initial years of priesthood to become involved in the ministry of social justice or to preach about justice issues was strongly influenced by that experience. In my initial involvement with the Seminary Peace and Justice Com-mittee, I soon came to a basic understanding. ! must be willing with com-plete honesty to critique that part of myself that desires to be popular and to be liked by others. Otherwise, I would never say anything controver-sial or would never speak out or would rarely take action on behalf of issues of social justice. Poverty is Messy and Unglamorous A second resistance for me rests in a simple fact. Poverty is messy and unglamorous. For the past seven years I have volunteered on a part time basis at an overnight shelter for the homeless. Many of the people who come to spend the night there are not "pretty." They are dirty; they smell; they are often sick; some have head lice; some are alcoholics; some belong in a halfway house or mental institution. I have always been fortunate enough to grow up and live in a clean, healthy, and comfortable environment. Throughout much of my life I have been isolated and insulated from the poor and the homeless. I rec-ognized another need for honest critique. I needed to confront that part of myself that wants life always to be nice, comfortable, and pretty. Oth-erwise, I would never become involved. 660 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Myths, Stereotypes, and Prejudices A third resistance for me consists in myths, stereotypes, and preju-dices. Our culture is filled with them--about racial, ethnic, and relig-ious groups and about the poor and those who work for and with them. "The poor are lazy and would rather be on welfare . If they really wanted to, they could better themselves . They like being poor. See how happy they are . People involved in social justice causes are un-patriotic . All social justice organizations are communist inspired." The list goes on and on. I cannot go to a social gathering without hearing at least one joke that plays upon racial, ethnic, and cultural stereotypes. At times, I have told and laughed at those same jokes. I needed to confront and honestly critique my own myths, stereotypes, and prejudices. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Social-Justice Ministry is Disturbing There is a fourth resistance. I find this ministry disturbing. Working in the area of social justice has forced me to critique my own lifestyle, my attitudes about material possessions and wealth, and my use of the world's resources. I must admit that I like the good life. Conspicuous consumption is the name of the game in American society. In my early years of priest-hood when I was no longer a poor student but had a regular salary, I re-ally enjoyed having nice things. They compensated for my "great sac-rifice" of celibacy. I needed to honestly critique my own desire to live the good life and my tendencies toward materialism. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Fear A fifth resistance for me is fear. I found within myself a whole clus-ter of fears. I believed that if I worked with the poor and on behalf of social justice, I would be injured, harmed, or abused in some way. When I spent my first night at a shelter for the homeless, I was thor-oughly convinced that I was going to get head lice. TV news broadcasts and newspaper articles have always been filled with stories of crime and violence among the poor and in the inner city. When I was in college, I was robbed at gunpoint by two young black men. That experience re-inforced an attitude that had been drilled into me in all kinds of ways in my neighborhood: all black people are dangerous and to be feared. I needed to critique with honesty and courage that part of myself that de-sires security and safety at all costs. Otherwise, I would never take the I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 661 risk of becoming involved. An Overwhelming Sense of Poverty and Injustice in the World There is a final resistance. When I consider the extent of poverty and injustice in the world, I feel overwhelmed. I say to myself: What can one person possibly do to make a difference? My efforts will be futile and a waste of time. The work is innately frustrating. I will continually run into brick walls and have to deal with bureaucratic red tape and unsym-pathetic people and institutions. Progress is often measured in inches. You live with little or no sense of accomplishment. I realized that if I was not willing to honestly critique my own feelings of being over-whelmed and my own desire for instant results, then I would never be-come involved. Overcoming Resistances ~ It was not easy for me to look at my resistances. It is no easier to-day. Life seemed to be more pleasant when I closed my eyes to the re-alities of poverty and injustice as they existed all around me. Even after seven years of working with our Peace and Justice Committee, I find that I can still bring out of my storehouse old and new excuses which warn me to "back off," to rest because "I have done enough." As I con-tinue to come in touch with each of my resistances, I am aware that there are various steps that I have to enter into in order to overcome them. MyNeed for Challenge A first step is to allow myself to be challenged by others. I found myself challenged recently in a way I least expected. My sister who is a registered nurse and a certified nurse midwife recently volunteered to work for two years in Papua New Guinea as a lay missionary. I asked her why she wanted to do this. She told me that she was aware of the many talents, gifts, and blessings God had given her throughout her life. She felt that serving as a lay missionary was one way in which she could best express her gratitude to God. As I listened to what she had to say, I felt a lot of pride and admira-tion for my sister. At the same time, I felt a bit embarrassed as I realized that my own commitment to serving the poor at times looked pale in com-parison. I need people like my sister to challenge me and to keep me look-ing at my resistances. I need people like my sister to inspire me and to keep me in touch with my desire to bring to others the Good News that Jesus proclaimed in the Gospel of Luke as he began his public ministry. They need to say little. Their lives are bold proclamation. 669 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 As important as they are, such challenges are ~not enough for me. I have an amazing capacity to ignore or rationalize away the challenges that come from outside of me. To break through my resistances, I need to pray, to dialogue With others, and to simply begin. MyNeed for Prayer A second step for me is to bring my .resistances before the Lord in prayer. I begin by naming as honestly as I can my fears, my doubts, and my inner resistances. I express to God in my prayer what I am feeling and why I am feeling it. I ask God to break through my denial, to re-move from my eyes the scales that blind me to the,breadth and depth of my resistances so that I can see them for what they are. I place my resis-tances in the hands of God and invite God to respond. Here begins what I call the zone of discomfort in my prayer. To say to God "thy will be done" rather than "my will be thine" is~very fright-ening. What if God reveals to me something 1 do not want to see? What if God asks me to do what I do not want to do? At this point, I must qui-etly and patiently wait for God to respond, trusting that the God who loved me into existence will not abandon me or ask me to do anything that I am not capable of doing. MyNeed for Dialogue Prayer leads me to a third step. I need to talk to another person about my resistances. St. Ignatius in his Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, Week I [326] talks about the evil spirit as a false lover who "acts in or-der to keep his own suggestions and temptations secret, and our tactics must be to bring out into the light of day such suggestions and tempta-tions to our confessor or director or superior" (David Fleming, S.J., The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and A Contem-porary Reading [St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978], p. 213). Resistances need to be brought into the light of day so that they can be seen for what they are. When I do not talk to another person about my resistances, I find that they can gain power to control me, even after I have brought them to prayer. I can easily deny them or sweep them un-der the carpet. In hones( dialogue with another, I am given the gift of freedom of choice. In honest dialogue with another, I find challenge, new perspective, affirmation, support, and the courage to begin. My Need to Begin A fourth step is to begin. At Mundelein Seminary, there is a Spiri- l"d Love to, Lord, But. / 663 tuality and Justice group composed of faculty and students. Each mem-ber of this group has chosen a concrete action to pursue during the school year in some area of social justice. People have chosen to fast, to work at a soup kitchen or a shelter for the homeless, to deaccumulate their pos-sessions and to live more simply, or to pursue the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence. The premise behind this group is that we live ourselves into new ways of thinking, valuing, and behaving. The way to begin is robe-gin. The way to break through and break down our resistances is to be-gin doing something, no matter how small or insignificant. I have chosen the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence as my action for this year. In the sh"ort time that I haqe pursued this, I have already be-gun to experience ways in which my thinking, my attitudes, my values, and my behaviors are changing. I can feel my resistances to living out this vow b(eaking down in the very act of acting. The words of Mother Teresa are most applicable here: I never look at the masses as my responsibility. I look at the individual. I can love only one person at a time. I can feed only one person at a time. Just one, one, one. You get closer to Christ by coming closer to each other. As Jesus said: "Whatever you do to the least of my breth-ren, you do to me." So you begin . ! begin. I picked up one per-son. Maybe if 1 didn't pick up that one person, 1 wouldn't have picked up 42,000. The whole work is only a drop in the ocean. But if I didn't put the drop in, the ocean would be one drop less. Same thing for you, same thing in your family, same thing in the church where you go. Just begin . . . one, one, one. (Source unknown) MyNeed for Support A final step for me is my need for ongoing support. My commitment to working for justice in the world is fragile and tenuous. I find that I need ongoing challenge to help me keep looking at and dealing with my resistances. I also need the support and affirmation of others to keep me going when I experience moments of discouragement and frustration. The Spirituality and Justice group of which I am a part provides me with opportunities for ongoing challenge, prayer, dialogue, and action. At our initial meetings, we spent time praying about the commitment we hoped to make. We broke into dyads to talk to another about why we chose to be a part of this group, about the action we were planning to pursue, and about the fears and resistances we were experiencing inside of us as we prepared to begin. We came back into the larger group to share the fruits of our dialogue. We concluded with shared prayer. At this point, most of us in the group have chosen and have begun 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 to pursue an action. We see future meetings as an opportunity for us to take time for solitary prayer as we continue to bring our actions before God. The meetings help us to share in aone to one way and in the larger group the impact that our action is making on our thinking, valuing, and behaving. The meetings offer support and prayer for and with one an-other in our actions. Here we give witness and challenge to one another as we keep looking at and confronting our resistances. Conclusion The journey into the ministry of social justice is challenging, diffi-cult, and painful. There are many ~tesistances that cooe from within and without. There are many starts and stops. It is a journey that cannot be successfully negotiated alone. There can be no authentic journey with-out God and fellow travelers. My experience is that the journey is well worth the effort for my good and the good of others. May the Spirit of the Lord be upon us in our quest to "bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners." Understanding Novitiate Formation Wilkie Au, 'S.J. Father Au has just completed six and a half years as novice director. He is writing a book tentatively titled Acquiring Habits of the Heart: Holistic Religious Forma-tion. He may be addressed at Loyola Marymount University; P.O. Box 45041; Los Angeles, California 90045. Vatican II,s call for the renewal of religious life set into motion a radical reexaminatio.n of the purposes, processes, and structures involved in the formation of candidates for religious life. The aggiornamento of John XXIII required that those responsible for religious formation make the adaptations needed to prepare religious candidates fora lifetime of dedi-cation and service in a rapidly changing world and Church. Because sen-sible adaptation depended on having a clear sense of what objectives were sought, much of the discussion among formation personnel (forma-tores) in the postconciliar years centered on the purposes and goals of the different phases of the formation process. Consequently, the noviti-ate or initial formation in many orders was thoroughly evaluated in light of the renewed understanding of religious life in the modern world, and many dramatic changes followed. Nevertheless, more than twenty years later the question is still being asked today: "What should be the overriding aims and objectives of the novitiate?"~ According to Father Gerald Arbuckle, S.M., a former as-sistant general of his community, many formation personnel today agree that the experience and the efforts to adapt the novitiate program accord-ing to the requirements of Renovationis Causam have not always been as successful as they would have wished. Many are still uncertain about what to do in the novitiate. Many questions remain: "Should there be a one,to-two-year novitiate? . When should the formative apostolic ex-periences take place and what should they accomplish? . How much 665 666 / Review for Religio. us, September~October 1988 separation, if any, from the world around them should novices experi-ence?" In brief, many questions about the aims and objectives of novi-tiate formation persist.2 Today the drastic drop in the number of those entering the novitiate adds further reason for adaptations in novitiate formation. To be accept-able, these adaptations must, however, retain the essential goals of the novitiate. Precisely what these needed changes are and how they are to be implemented will depend on concrete circumstances of place and per-sonnel. But, more importantly, before any sensible adaptation can be made, it is imperative that there be a clear rearticulation of the basic goals of novitiate formation. Otherwise,. there is the danger that our ad-aptations will be misguided and essential aspects of novitiate training be inadvertently°lost. The purpose of this article is to articulate an under-standing of novitiate formation, based on my si'x years of experience as director of novices of the Jesuits of the California Province. It is my hope that this article will stimulate and contribute to a discussion of novitiate formation at a time when formatores throughout the world are attempt-ing to deal with the adjustments made necessary by, among other things, declining numbers. While this article will. reflect Jesuit documents and my ,own experi-ence working within a Jesuit novitiate (with a group averaging between twelve to fifteen,new candidates every year), I am hopeful that other re-ligious groups of men and 'women working with smaller numbers can dis-cover in my comments what is universally true of the novitiate process in general. In a word, I believe that any novitiate program that purports to embody the spirit of Vatican I1 must include three essential aspects: (1) vocation discernment; (2) religious, socialization; and (3) Qngoing in-dividuation. These three overlapping purposes of the novitiate must, in my opinion, be retained no matter what adapta!ions, are made to accom-modate changing circumstances. What follows is a discussion of these three major goals of the novitiate. Vocation Discernment The objective bf vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help nov-ices come to a peaceful awareness and a free acceptance' of God"s will for them in regard to their state of life. Candidates come seeking help in discerning wh(ther God is indeed calling them to a lifelong commit-ment to tile service of Christ with this particular religious group. Sev-eral considerations are helpi~ul in providing this assistance to them: Confirmation of a Call versus "Weeding Out" The nOvmate must be Viewed as a positive process, as a concrete aid Novitiate Formation / 66"/ to those trying to test out their call to religious lif~. The novitiate should not be designed or perceived as a "weeding out" system, something ,like the basic training of an elitist military unit or the strenuous audition for a coveted part in a chorus line. The novitiate process would be vitiated at its core if it were to be seen as a systematic attempt to test candidates by deliberately placing artificial obstacles before them and screening them on the basis of their ability to overcome these obstacles. The de-structive and dysfunctional consequences of this negative view of novi-tiate formation can be documented in the "horror stories" of many older religious. In addition to the regrettable pain and htirt inflicted on peo-ple, a negative approach ~to the novitiate is fundamentally flawed because it encourages fearful and anxious novices to circumvent, rather than in-vest in, the complex process of discernment. Vocation discdrnment requires an openness and attention to one's in-terior movements, especially in prayer, and an honest disclosure and dis-cussion of these movements in spiritual direction. These attitudes of open-ness and honesty cannot exist in the kind of atmosphere of fear and threat which a "weeding out" approach inevitably produces. Furthermore, such an approach focuses too much attention on external requirements that need to be met in order to survive, like ~'hoops one has to jump through" to make the grade. Dangerously distracting, such a pre-occupation with "making it" can seriously jeopardize the integrity of one's discernment process. Good discernment relies heavily on a per-son's ability to hear the voice of the Lord speaking deeply in the soli-tude of one's heart and in the concrete circumstances of one's life. In light of this, the novice director can be most helpful by imitating the posi-tive role of Eli, the priest, who directs the young Samuel to the place where he is instructed to respond to the Lord's summons by saying, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening" (1 S 3:1-9). The Dynamic of Election and Confirmation The term "election"' was used by lgna~tius of Loyola to designate the choice made by a person seeking the will of God regarding some con-crete matter in his or her life. For the last four centuries, Christians have found the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius helpful in making an elec-tion, especially when trying to determine how they should serve Christ. For Ignatius, such a determination was best done in the context of prayer, for "prayer is the place where we sort out our desires and where we are ourselves sorted out by the desires we choose to follow. ,,3 The spiritual discernment that takes place in the novitiate results in an election regard-ing the direction one's vocation should take. Besides providing direction, Review for Religious, September-October 1988 however, the election process in the novitiate also seeks to test out the depth and freedom of a person's desire to serve Christ through the life of the vows. The Exercises were designed by Ignatius to help in "preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments, and, after their removal, [in] seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul."4 In a Jesuit novitiate the Exer-cises are usually made in the course of a thirty-day retreat soon after en-trance. This experience provides the context in which the Jesuit novice director helps the individual novice either to make an election regarding his vocation or to reaffirm his previously~ made decision to be a Jesuit. Those who make an election to pursue the Jesuit way of life must then generously engage in the novitiate process with the hope that the Lord will clarify and confirm their desire. Thus, vocation discernment in the novitiate involves a two-year period of' monitoring one's deepest desires and ascertaining whether the desire to serve the Lord as a Jesuit perdures and deepens throughout the course of the novitiate. If this desire per-dures, the novice can then express this desire through the first vows of a Jesuit. Michael J. Buckley, S.J., describes these first vows as an offering, following upon an election, made in perpetuity, very much like the initial election of the Exercises. Like this offering, they are con-tingent upon the subsequent confirmation by the Lord, worked through a human being's personal religious history over the next ten or fifteen years.5 Until he takes his final vows many years after the novitiate, "the Jesuit lives in a period of probation, testing whether the first offering of his life to God [through first vows] is accepted and confirmed by divine providence."6 Buckley summarizes this Ignatian dynamic well by explain-ing "the way in which one moves toward finding and giving his life over to the will of God" within the framework of the Spiritual Exercises. There isthe initial offer of a choice to God our Lord, an offering which is made according to a time for making an election and which is then presented before the Lord . What the dynamic of the election looks for after the moment of offering is the subsequent confirmation'by God. Election as a religious history, as an experience of Providence, devel-ops over time between these two major events: the time of human offer-ing and the period of confirmation by God.7 Clearly, then, the objective of vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help novices determine whether the depth and direction of their Novitiate Formation / 669 heart's deepest desires move them to make a self-offering of themselves through vows. Absolute clarity and certainty regarding the future can-not be expected at the end of the novitiate period, since the person's self-offering must await "the subsequent confirmation by God." As Buck-ley eloquently states, For a man who follows God, who listens to God throughout his serious experience, the future is unknown and mysterious--not unlike God him-self. And he moves into this mystery without prematurely forcing clar-ity because his experience of God directs this movement.8 The Test of Existential Validation Colloquially stated, the test of existential validation asks novices this question: "Does the shoe fit?" This is an important question for voca-tion discernment, and it must be asked on a regular basis. While the Ig-natian election helps novices find God's will for them in the deep de-sires of their hearts, the test of existential validation enables them to dis-cover God"s will in the concrete details of their lives. The method of existential validation is basically very simple. When they first enter, the novices are asked to live the life of a Jesuit as if they have already taken the three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Then they are asked to pay attention to the "fit" throughout the course of their novitiate. In other words, they are asked to "try on the shoes of being a Jesuit" and check for the fit as they actually walk in those shoes. In their concrete experience, do they find that living the vows in an actual Jesuit community is life-giving and productive? Do they dis-cover that, with the passage of time, there is an increasing congruence between what they want for their lives and Jesuit ideals? As they grow in knowledge of what being a Jesuit involves concretely in this histori-cal time and place, do they find a match between what they desire and what life in the Society of Jesus offers and requires today? Another aspect of existential validation involves testing the authen-ticity of one's desire. This is done mainly by checking for the congru-ence between what one professes to value and desire and how one actu-ally chooses, decides, and behaves. Although all human beings live with a discrepancy between the ideal and the real, drastic and consistent de-viations from the norms and aspirations of religious life should make one question the genuineness and depth of one's desire to be a religious. Though painful and disruptive, getting in touch with authentic desires can be a liberating experience. Furthermore, while self-reporting is an important means for gather- 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing data in the process of existential validation, the feedback of the re-ceiving community is also very important in testing out the existential fit between the individual novice and the peculiar charism of a particu-lar religious institute. Vocation discernment in the novitiate must ascer-tain not only if a person desires to take on religious life, but whether he or she has been given the gift and charism to live that life. A realistic assessment of this capability is a crucial aspect of vocation discernment. For example, from the concrete evidence of a person's life, can it be judged that the Lord has given the aspirant to an apostolic religious com-munity the following prerequisites: -- the ability to live in community with relative peace and joy? -- the capacity to love with celibate chastity in a non-exclusive man-ner? -- the.freedom to live with simplicity and detachment? -- the ability to be mobile and available to be sent anywhere on mis-sion? The underlying presupposition of this line of inquiry obviously is that one's God-given abilities, personality, and inclinations can indicate in helpful ways the precise form and manner in which one is being called to serve Christ. Not to pay serious attention to these concrete indicators is to disregard an important aspect of vocation discernment. Vocation Shortage and a ~,ranny of Numbers I would like to make a final comment regarding vocation discern-ment in the novitiate. It seems to me that the declining number of candi-dates c~n create a ,~ituation in which vocation discernment is not engaged in with seriousness and detachment. The disordered desire to keep the few that come can jeopardize and short-circuit the discernment process. At a time of drastic diminishment, external pressures to hang on at any cost to the few that do enter are sometimes exerted by formed members of the community. This pressure, as well as the interior unfreedom of formatores themselves, can impede a thorough discernment process.9 Fur-thermore, unconsciously treating novices with a "precious few" men-tality can lead to a form of coddling that would be unhelpful for relig-ious formation and spiritual growth. Religious communities that have had only a few candidates during the last decade and at present experience only a trickle from year to year are particularly susceptible to this dan-ger. Religious Socialization: "Habits of the Heart" The term "religious socialization" has been popularized by John Novitiate Formation / 671 Westerhoff III in discussing the question of how elements of religion and faith ,~are transmitted from one generation to another. While he does not apply the term to the formation of religious candidates, nevertheless, it seems to capture quite well one of the essential purposes of the noviti-ate, that is, the handing on of a religious tradition and lifestyle to per-sons desiring to enter the life of a religious group as fully participating members. Religious socialization, according to Westerhoff, is a process consisting of lifelong formal and informal mechanisms, through which persons stistain and transmit their faith (worldview', value ~syst~m) and lifestyle. This is accomplished through participation in the life of a tradition-bearing community with its rites, rituals, myths, sym-bols, expressions of beliefs, attitudes and values, organizational pat-terns, and activities.~° As defined by Westerhoff, religious socialization is a lifelong proc-ess and thus does not exactly describe the novitiate, which (to the relief of all involved) is limited to one or two years. Technically speaking, re-ligious socialization is equivalent to the whole process of formation, which more and more is being viewed as a lifelong affair. Because of ongoing liturgical renewal, biblical and theological reflection, and the rapidity of changing conditions of our times, religious have been urged to commit themselveS seriously to "continuing formation." ~ Neverthe-less, the ~oviiiate is the initial phase of the lifelong process involved in the assimilation of members into religious life. Viewed as such, Wester-hoff's notion of religious ~ocialization provides a useful way of under-standing an essential purpose of the novitiate. Adaptations of novitiate formation must be guided by the essential goal of religious socialization. The basic question raised by the task of handing on the tradition Of religious life to new aspirants is this: What is tO be~handed down and how? What values, beliefs, mores, and ways of proceeding has the receiving community judged to be of perennial worth, such that they should remain permanently .definitional of the group? To employ a phrase of Alexis de Tocqueville, the nineteenth-century French observer of democracy in America (a phrase recently popu-larized by a national bestseller), what are the "habits of the heart" that the receiving community deems absolutely essential for maintaining its group life with integrity and vitality'? In "habits of the heart" Tocqueville included "notions, opinions, and ideas that 'shape mental habits'; and 'the sum of moral and intellectual dispositions' " as well as habitual practices with respect to such things as religion. ~- Once the receiving community has come to a clear consensus on the 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 content which it wishes to transmit, then it must decide on the most ef-fective means for this transmission. The question of how to raises a num-ber of considerations which every novice director must ponder if the no-vitiate program is to have any intelligible rationale. Some of these im-portant considerations will be discussed below. The Question of Contact and Separation For the sake of effective religious socialization, there often arises the question of what contact novices should have with family, friends, those in ministry, and formed members of their own religious order. Arbuckle has provided a very useful framework to reflect on this question. ~3 Re-lying on anthropological data regarding initiation rites, he proposes three-stage process for the novitiate, which, according to him, is essen-tially an initiation rite: the stages of separation, liminoid, and the incor-poration or reaggregation. Stage I emphasizes separating the novices from the ordinary life they have left behind in order to dramatize the radicality of the transition from lay life to religious life. While this stage may be brief, the separation also symbolic. The symbolism must express to the candidate that in order to respond to the call of the Lord there must be a withdrawal from the world of "or-dinary" living with its roles and interests, its speed, and its distraction. The symbolism must convey the message that to follow the radical de-mands of the gospel message one must be prepared to "leave father, mother, brothers, sisters, and all things" for the sake of the Lord. 14 To convey this new dramatic reality, novices should, at this stage, be separated physically and geographically from other members of the group who have already gone through the passage of initiation. Not to separate them, "when the aims of the initiation process are so different from the aims of postnovitiate training, is to make the realization of the novitiate aims impossible to achieve."~5 The second stage, called liminoid (from the Latin, limen, threshold), requires the kind of seclusion that fosters strong investment in commu-nity building. It is precisely in the context of a vibrant community life that the novices are to experience the "habits of the heart" which the receiving community wish(s to transmit to its new members. This is the time for introducing the novice to the unique spirit of the institute, peculiar charism within the Church, and its characteristic way of proceed-ing. By so inculcating its spirituality, mores, history, and tradition, the receiving community aims to bond the new member to its past and thus Novitiate Formation / 673 to provide a foundation for the novice's identification with the group. According to Arbuckle, this second stage of relative seclusion should last about a year. The third stage is that of incorporation or reaggregation, a period when novices are reconnected with the religious family outside the no-vitiate. This stage should be as long as or even longer than the liminoid stage. Basically a time of "evaluated pastoral experience," this stage is to be seen as an integral part of the novitiate process. Arbuckle ex-presses the aims of the third stage by citing paragraph 25 of Renovationis Causam: Besides gradual preparation for apostolic activities, they [that is, the ex-perimental periods outside the novitiate] can also have as their purpose to bring the novice into contact with certain concrete aspects of poverty or of labor, to contribute to character formation, a better knowledge of human nature, the strengthening of the will, the development of personal responsibility and, lastly, to provide occasions for effort at union with God in the context of active life.~6 In my opinion, Arbuckle's three-stage approach provides a rich and comprehensive understanding of the novitiate process, as Well as a sound basis for determining the question of the amount of separation and con-tact that would be helpful for novices. That there be some kind of alter-nation between separation and contact has also been clearly endorsed by others. For example, the Jesuit decree on novitiate formation states: Although entrance into the novitiate should entail a real separation from the life previously led in the world, superiors should nevertheless pro-vide that the novices, while consistently maintaining a spirit of recol-lection, should have sufficient social contact with their contemporaries (both within and outside the Society). Likewise the necessary separation from parents and friends should take place in such a way that genuine progress in affective balance and supernatural love is not impeded. IV The Arbuckle model is useful because it enables the novitiate to ef-fectively bond new members to the religious group, which is the goal of religious socialization. The bonding is both with the past (the commu-nity's traditions and history) and with the present (its present members and ministries). By means of form'al and informal contact, then, the re-ceiving community links its new members to its group life. The Question of Structure and Nonstructure It is my opinion that both structure and nonstructure have important and different functions in the process of religious socialization. The no- 67'4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 vitiate process must include times for both. Structured time is important for thi~ development of the habits and skills necessary for sustaining a lifetime of religious dedication. This time of structure is the period tra-ditionally known as "common order" during which the novices's day is regulated according to a schedule with definite periods for communal and personal prayer, for work around the house, for conferences and classes with the novice staff, for individual study, and for apostolic in-volvements. Because the development of habits such as those that con-tribute to a faithful prayer life and spiritual discernment requires regular repetition and practice, structured time for such training is important in novitiate formation. Equally important is time for more freedom and less structure in the novitiate learning process. These times of nonstructure provide an op-portunity for the novices to test out to what extent, they have internal-ized and appropriated what they have sought to learn during times of struc-tured learning. For example, has the individual novice found himself or herself able to faithfully sustain a regular prayer life when away from the structural supports of the novitiate? To foster personal responsibility among novices for their own development, the Jesuits' 3 i st General'Con-gregation stated that "a necessity is that the no~,itiat~'s way of life be not so rigidly determined that the novices, lacking in all initiative, can hardly ever practice spiritual discernment, or even obedience itself, ex-cept in the form of a passive and impersonal submission."~8 The non-structured periods of the novitiate allow the novices as aspiring religious to find out truthfully and behaviorally what changes in their lives and at-titudes have actually taken place as the result of their training in the limi-noid stage. Therefore, I believe that a rhythmic alternation between struc-tured and nonstructured time is an essential dynamic of the novitiate learn-ing process. The Question of Experience and Reflection Another important learning dynamic in the novitiate involves the com-bination of experience and reflection. This mode of learning, variously called experiential learning or praxis, calls for the novice's active engage-ment in learning experiences and a subsequent reflection upon those ex-periences, with an eye to what insights and knowledge can be.,gleaned from them. This form of experiential learning is applicable to many ar-eas in which novices are called to grow, that is prayer,t9 interpersonal relationships,2° and ministerial effectiveness. The goal sought through this mode of learning is, in the words of the Jesuits' 33rd General Con-gregation, "a transformation of our habitual patterns of thought through Novitiate Formation / 675 a constant interplay of experience, reflectipn, and action.' While experiential learning can be a powerful form of learning, there is always the danger that it can lead to anti-intellectualism, if it is not carefully applied. Experience is the indispensable raw material of expe-riential learning. But it remains unprocessed--that is, raw material-- without the equally important process of reflecting on the experience. The danger is effectively obviated when serious effort an~d sufficient time are devoted to dwelling on the experience in such a way that ideas and principles are abstracted out of it and feelings are symbolized. In addition'to serious reflection, there is a further requirement of ef-fective praxis. To be used intelligently, experiential learning must be grounded in a well-thought-out theory of experience. As John Dewey warned in 1938, "The belief that all genuine education comes about through experience does not mean that all experiences are genuinely or equally educative. Experience and education cannot be directly equated to each other."zz Mere insisten~ze on the necessity of experience, there-fore, is notenough. In Dewey's words, "Everything depends on the qual~ ity of the experience which is had."z3 Therefore, to use the experiential mode of learning in the novitiate effectively,formatores must ensure (!) that the quality of the learning experiences engaged in by novices be se-riously evaluated and (2)that the novices, with the assistance of a skilled facilitator, give sufficient time and attention to follow-up reflection on their experiences. The Ongoing Process of Individuation The third major aspect of novitiate formation calls for the ongoing fostering of the personal growth of candidates. While the agenda of the receiving community is stressed in the process of religious socialization, the individuation process respects the agenda of persons in their individ-ual growth process. Since it is the case, more and more, that candidates enter the novitiate at such diverse ages and at such different points of p.er-sonal development, novitiate formation must seriously recognize individ-ual differences and aid individuals to move ahead, not regress, in the de-velopment of their selfhood. After all, the ability to give of oneself in self-donation presupposes that one first possesses a self. According to Carl Jung, the process of individuation is a gradual growth toward whole-ness and harmony, involving the progressive differentiation and detailed development of all parts of the human personality. Since individuation is a lifelong project, entry into religious life cannot halt its progress with-out stunting the healthy maturation and development of religious as hu-man beings. 6"/6 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Since Vatican II, religious have been strongly ehcouraged to take con-tinuhl human growth seriously and to take care that their commitment to religious life does not impede their prior responsibility as human beings to a~tualize their God-gi~,en potential. In the eyes of an increasing num-ber of c,~ontemporary theologians, the motivation for continuous human growth is clearly a religious one. Human life'is seen as a gift fr6m the Fi~ther. At the same time, God couples the gi~ft of life with a challenge to person~s to be cocreatorsof their lives, freely fashioning their lives into "something beautiful for God." In this ongoing process of human de-velopment,~ the Lord of creation and the human works Of his hand col-laborate. Therefore, for the person who seeks to respond to God's in-itiative, a commitment to continuous growth'is not only a choice, but requirement. To deny the inner impulse t.oward continuous growth is tan-tamount to not responding to God, because, in the words of Gregory Baum, "as d.estiny, as summons, as love., God is present in man's mak-ing of man."~-4 John Haughey, S.J., states that the refusal to take seri-ously one's vocation to be a cocreator with God also takes on a moral dimension. When the refusal to choose leaves the work of God's hands unfinished, then this peculiar kind of inaction takes on a moral dimension. Why.'? Because the unique way of manifesting some aspect of the fullness of God that every person is born to manifest remains potency. Refusal to come to the point of decision, choice, or commitment can leave some-thing of creation itself unfinished and hence God's glory incomplete. This constitutes evil at the level of:being itself. An individual thwarts the purpose of God's creating him by refusing to exercise the cocreator-ship that he could exercise. That which is called forth by God is ren-dered void by man.25 Consequently, religious life and novitiate formation must reinforce among no'vices the importance of continuing their commitment to the proc-ess of individuation as they are simultaneously socialized into the group. Growth in spiritual maturity depends heavily on integral human devel-opment. This truth has long been captured in the Scholastic adage that "grace builds on nature." Leo P. Rock, S.J., a former novice director, applied this truth 'to novitiate formation in a pithy way: "Grace does not substitute for nature, but fulfills it. Healthy, sane personality develop-ment is the most fertile soil in which grace can take root and grow. Growth in religious life can best happen in the situation which best fos-ters personal human growth.''26 The following considerations may be helpful toformatores as they consider how to best foster such prerequi- Novitiate Formation / 677 site human growth in the novitiate: The Developmental Nature of Human Growth Human growth takes place in stages, with each stage presupposing and building on preceding ones. As deveiopmentalists put it, these stages are. invariantly sequential. A person cannot, for example, go from stage one to stage four by skipping the intervening stages. This principle thus requires t~at every individual novice be met where he or she is on enter-ing the novitiate, and then helped to proceed ~forward, stage by stage, from tha.t personal starting point. This is especially important because per-sons entering religion today .vary so much in age, background, and de-velopment. An undifferentiated treatment of novices would prove to be an unenlightened and eventually frustrating appr6ach. Another key consideratibn is that, as a Jesuit formation document puts it, "human development does not proceed at the same pace in eve-ryone." z7 This fact calls for adaptation of the process to individuals. Therefore, in. fostering growth in the novitiate, it seems important that the focus be kept on the individual and the particular~areas of his or her life that stand most ready for development at any particular time. Force-feeding of any kind not only risks dging violence to people, but will ul-timately be countbrproductive in leading to any kind of significant, long-term learning. Personal Responsibility and Religious Obedience The renewal of religious life since Vatican II has certainly challenged men and women to understand and qive the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience in ways that do not impede personal maturity and psycho-logical health. Twenty years ago Jesuit John Courtney Murray spelled out this challenge in a talk to fellow Jesuits. He warned that religious obedience poses a real danger to personal maturity if it fosters the abdi-cation of personal responsibility for one's life and choices. Obedience is a perilous"path to personal maturity, according to Murray. This is be-cause the vow of obedience, if poorly lived out, produces people "who to a degree are purposeless, their lives not consciously and strongly pat-terned, not inwardly directed toward a determined goal with all the or-ganized power of the whole self.' ,28 Religious can succumb to the trap posed by obedience by being pas-sive and overly submissive to authority figures in order to gain accep-tance and approval or to enjoy a kind of infantile dependence free from the anguish of personal decision-making. Those who manifest these and othe'r forms of immature behavior often rationalize their way of acting Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in spiritual terms, thus disguising and denying what they~ are actually do-ing. When they say that they "just want to follow God's or the supe-rior's will," it is sometimes simply a rationalization to justify their to take responsibility for themselves.29 This becomes obvious when the superior clearly has no strong feelings or particular preference about wfiat should happen and in fact would like the religious to assume some independent initiative and to indicate a clear preference. Realizing this threat to maturity, ihe document on Jesuit formation makes clear that "the more the noviceg are stimulated to assume respon-sibilities with prudent and discerning charity, the more successfully will .they acquire Spiritual maturity and the more freely will they adhere their vocation."3° A correlative document on Jesuit obedience states that mature obedience is unattainable apart from the constant cultivation a spirit of initiative and responsibility.3~ A Discernment Model to Develop Responsible~Obedience To foster personal responsibility within the framework of religious obedience, I have used the following eight-step model to teach novices a way of practicing dis~zernment: Step 1" Identify the decision to be made or tl~e issu~ to be resolved. Step 2: Examine the underlying values or concerns (human, Chris-tian, religious, and Jesuit) involved. Step 3: Take time to pray over the matter, paying attention to how one is being drawn or led in prayer. Step 4: Discuss the matter with a spiritual director. Step 5: Dialogue with the superior and engage in a mutual search for God's will in the matter. Step 6: Strive for a state of lgnatian "indifference," that is, a state of inner freedom and equipoise which allows one to accept whatever decision or resolution would be for God's greater glory. If a person is unable to achieve "indifference," discussing the matter in spiritual direction can bring valuable self-knowledge and clarity about how best to proceed in the search for God's will. Perhaps, more prayer and dia-logue with the superior regarding conflicting values and perspectives may be needed before a peaceful closure and decision can be arrived at. Step_ 7: Accept the superior's decision with ,trust in God's. provi-dence at work within the dynamics of religious obedience. Step 8: Stay open to the emerging data of ongoing experience to check for confirmation. In a study of lgnatian obedience, John Futrell, Novitiate Formation / 679 S.J., states that "the principal means of confirmation of the decisions of the superior., are the mutual contentment of himself and his com-panion and the proof of living experience.' ,32 If there is serious doubt "that the superior's decision truly reflects God's will, the process of ,prayer, consultation, and dialogue must begin again. This discernment process promotes personal responsibility and growth because it requires the full engagement of the novices. In com-ing to a decision, they must work with.their religious superior, rather than have things fully decided or resolved for them from above. Step I requires them to invest in the process of defining the parameters of the issue from their personal point of view. Step 2 involves a process of val-ues clarification in which they state the values that are at stake in the de-cision. Steps 3 and 4 give them the chance to critique these values, both alone in prayer and together with a spiritual director. Steps 2, 3, and 4 press them to ask an important twofold question: "Am I free to pursue my values.'?" and "Are my values worth the pursuit?" By requiring them to come to some kind of tentative stance or decision before dialogu-ing with the superior, these steps promote their sense of selfhood, which is largely shaped in the process of personal decision-making. Finally, if attained, the spiritual attitude of Ignatian indifference provides them with the inner freedom which guarantees that their act of autonomous choice can be integrated with religious obedience. For, in the end, indifference allows them to accept whatever is decided with a sense of adult respon-sibility and commitment to the way of evangelical obedience. Summary Reflections Before ma~king a concluding recommendation, it might be helpful to summarize what has been proposed here: I. Adaptations in novitiate formation must always be guided by the three, essential goals of the novitiate: vocation discernment, religious so-cialization, and ongoing individuation. 2. Novitiate formation as it relates to vocation discernment must be seen as a positive aid concerned with the confirmation of a call, rather /han as a negative process of "weeding out" candidates. The process of election monitors the will of God being expressed in the heart's deep-est desires, and the process of existential confirmation searches for the will of God manifested in the concrete circumstances of one's life. 3. Novitiate formation as it relates to religious socialization is the proc-ess by which a religious community receives new members and bonds them to the community's past and present by (a) sharing with them its tradition, spirituality, mores, and "habits of the heart" and (b)welcom- 680 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing them to its current fellowship and ministries. 4. Novitiate formation as it relates to ongoing individuation is the process by which the, personal growth and development .of individual nov-ices are fostered, even as the novices are being socialized into the com-munity. Towards this end the novitiate attempts to promote individual initiative and personal responsibility within the context of religious obe-dience. In light of what has been proposed above, I recommend-~that, wher-ever and whenever possible, communities with small numbers of nov-ices (for example, five or fewer) join together with,other compatible groups ~to form a larger formation community, Examples of compatible groups might be novices of different provinces of the same religious or-der (for example, an interprovinciai Jesuit or Dominican novitiate) o con-gregations with the same founding spirit (for example, Franciscans, Bene-dictines, Mercy Sisters, St. Joseph Sisters). In my opinion, the goals of religious socialization are. better accomplished in larger groupings and are very difficult to achieve with just two or three novices ~ibsorbed into a regular apostolic house. This is especially true of the liminoid phase of religious socializa-tion, which relies heavily on an experience of community. During period, novices are meant to acquire the religious values,mores, and spiri-tuality of the group by experiencing daily life in a vibrant community, whose central ministry is the socializing of novices into religious This regrouping for the sake of forming larger formatiow communities can be on a full-time or part-time basis. A very successful example a full-time merger has been Loyola House in Berkley, Michigan, which houses the joint Jesuit novitiate program of the Chicago and Detroit prov-inces. Part-time collaborative programs have taken various forms. For example, for two straight years the Jesuit novices of the California and Oregon provinces joined together for two months to experience the Ig-natian Exercises together. Last year three Jesuit novitiates'pooled their resources and spent five weeks together to study the history of the or-der. Another example of such successful collaboration is the intercom-munity novitiate experience in such places as Los Angeles and Denver. Large and autonomous formation communities can provide S'everal very important dimensions of novitiate training that communities of or two novices cannot provide. Briefly, they are the following: Peer formation. In my experience, peer formation is an important as-pect of religious socialization, As novices experience together the dif-ferent aspects of religious life and share theirjfaith and religious experi- Novitiate Formation / 681 ences with each other, they are supported and "edified," in the best sense of the word. Spiritual conversation among novices regarding the story of their vocation, their experience in prayer and ministry, their strug-gles with the vows and with community living can provide much needed support and insight. Liturgical formation. Larger, autonomous novitiate communities are more likely to have a well-planned, coordinated liturgical life, which can be very important in the spiritual formation of novices. When there are only two or three novices living together, chances are that there will be no orga0ized liturgical life in the community. Instead, the novices may merely join in a convenient parish liturgy. When this occurs, the peda-gogical function of liturgy within formation is greatly diminished. Staffing and programmatic advantages. Because of the growing short-age of active members in practically every religious community in the United States, the search for qualified personnel for the various apostolic works of a community often invites a subtle competition among the vari-ous ministries. As a result, there is a danger that novitiate formation will get short shrift because of the very small number of novices being min-istered to. A larger group of novices in some kind of interprovincial ar-rangement would provide a stronger claim for greater investment by the community (a) in qualified formation personnel whose work is given full-time status and assured of some continuity and (b) in some regular and relatively fixed program of instruction for the training of novices. With-out this kind of investment, it is hard to expect that a person asked to be a part-time novice director for one or two years will devote the time and energy needed to understand the complex process of novitiate for-mation and to develop the skills and knowledge needed to do a good job. When left to function on their own, communities with just a trickle of novices tend to create a makeshift, ad hoc arrangement to handle the for-mation of the few. It seems that having several ongoing, large-group, com-mon novitiate programs which could accommodate novices from vari-ous communities that share the same charism or spirit of a founder would be helpful for meeting the need created by the drastic drop in recent years. None of this would be complete without a word about the inherent, not to say mind-boggling, paradox of religious life and growth. While we are called upon to use all of the knowledge and expertise at our dis-posal, it is the Holy Spirit who effects growth, who gives life, and whose gifts shape the soul--a Spirit who, much to the surprise, despair, and con-fusion of our best-made plans, still blows where it will. This does not Review for Religious, September-October 1988 relieve us of the responsibility of bringing what expertise we can muster to fostering human, spiritual growth. But it reminds us that it is the Holy Spirit, whose ways transcend all our human expertise and wisdom, often confounding them, who effects and shapes the growth we hope to facili-tate. NOTES ~ See Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M., "Planning the Novitiate Process: Reflections of an Anthro.pologist," in REVIEW FOR REL~6~Ot~S (July/August 1984): 532-546. , 2 Ibid., 15.~ 532. ~' 3 Ann and Barry Ulanov, Primary Speech: A Psychology of Prayer (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 20. '* Annotation # I, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, translated by Louis J. Puhl, S.J. (Chicago: Loyola Upiversity Press, 1951). 5 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "Final Vows in the Society of Jesus," in National Jes-uit News, vol. 10, no. 7, April 1981, p. 8. 6 Ibid., p. 9. 7 Ibid., p. 8. 8 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "The Priesthood as a Religious Event," in The Berkeley Jesuit, spring 1970, p. 7. 9 "In all selection and testing of seminarians, necessary standards must always be firmly maintained, even when there exists a regrettable shortage of priests. For God will not allow his Church to lack ministers if worthy candidates are admitted while unsuitable ones are speedily and paternally directed towards the assuming of other tasks and are encouraged to take up the lay apostolate readily, in a consciousness of their Christian vocation." Paragraph 6, Decree on Priestly Formation (Optatam Totius), in The Documents of Vatican !I, ed. Walter Abbott, S.J. (New York: Amer-ica Press, 1966). ~0 John Westerhoff III and Gwen K. Neville, Generation to Generation: Conversa-tions on Religious Education and Culture (Philadelphia: United Church Press, 1974), p. 41. ~ Nos. 138-140, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), pp. I I 1-113. See also no. 23, "Companions of Jesus Se~nt into Today's World," Decree # I, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1984), p. 50. ~2 Quoted in Robert N. Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Com-mitment in American Life (San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1986), p. 37. ~3 Arbuckle, op. cit., pp. 540-545. ~': Ibid., p. 540. ~5 Ibid. ~6 Quoted ibid., pp. 542-543. t7 No. 22, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 104. Is Ibid., no. 19, p. 103. 19 For an explanation of how praxis or experiential learning is applied to prayer, see my "Teach Us to Pray," in Company: A Magazine of the American Jesuits, vol. Novitiate Formation / 683 I, no. 3, April 1984, pp. 8-10. 2o For a discussion of the experience/reflection dynamic in learning about interper-sonal relationships, see my "Particular Friendships Revisited," in Human Devel-opment, vol. 7, no. I, spring 1986, pp. 34-38. 2~ Decree I, -#40, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. 22 John Dewey, Experience and Education (London: Collier-MacMillan Company, 1938), p. 25. 23 Ibid., p. 27 (emphasis in the original). 24 Gregory Baum, "Reply and Explanation," in Ecumenist, vol. 9, Nov.-Dec. 1970- Jan.-Feb. ! 971, p. 18. z5 John Haughey, S.J., Should Anyone Say Forever: On Making, Keeping, and Break-ing Commitments (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1975), pp. 23-24. 26 Leo lb. Rock, S.J., "The California Province Novitiate: What We Do and Why," an unpublished paper, September 1973, p. 4. 27 No. 24, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 28 John Courtney Murray, S.J., " The Danger of the Vows," in Woodstock Letters, fall 1967~, p~ 42 I. 29 For a discussion of obstacles to mature religious obedience, see my "Dealing with Projection: Recognizing and Removing a Common Obstacle to Mature Religious Obe-dience," in Human Development, vol. 6, no. I, spring 1985, pp. 6-1 I. 30 No. 23, Decree 8, " The Spiritual Formation," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 31 Nos. II and 12, Decree 17, "The Life of Obedience." Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, pp. 164-166. 32 John C. Futrell, S.J., Making an Apostolic Community of Love: The Role of the 'Superior According to St. Ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 143. Some Thoughts on the Vocation to Celibacy Clifford Stevens Father Stevens has been, over the course of many years, a Trappist, a parish priest, an Air Force chaplain, an editor of The Priest, and a small-town pastor. He has pub-lished a novel, Flame Out of Dorset, about St. Stephen Harding, twelfth-century Cis-tercian. Last appearing in our pages in 1986, he writes from the monaste(y he founded: Tintern; Monastery Road; Oakdale, Nebraska 68761. The very foundation of the vocation to celibacy must be the complete free-dom from compulsion with which the choice of celibacy is made. Free-dom from external compulsion, in that no one can be forced by external pressures to choose the celibate vocation, and freedom from internal pres-sures, ascetic, moral, spiritual, which would make the choice of celibacy anything but a conscious, free choice, based on something within the vo-cation to celibacy itself. The choice of celibacy is not a rejection or de-nial of the excellence of marriage. ~ It is rather an affirmation of realities that transcend sexuality and marriage.2 This "anthropological" base of the choice of celibacy is a critical factor in celibate happiness, and that celibate happiness is based precisely on the facts that [ could find happiness in marriage, that in choosing celi-bacy3 ! am just as free to choose marriage, and that marriage has a good-ness and nobility all its own. There is a profound reason for this complete freedom from compul-sion based on the specific excellence of celibacy itself, and not in com-parison with something else. The profound reason is this. The gift of sexuality and its directedness toward intimate expression'~ in marriage comes, with our very creation, from God's goodness, his wis-dom, and his benevolence. It is an integral part of our humanity and our 684 Thoughts on Celibacy masculinity, and no power on earth can deprive us of it because it comes with the~very blueprint of our nature. (This article looks at celibacy from a masculine point of view, not because the feminine viewpoint is not im-portant, but becduse it is outside the author's experience.) The ,gift of sexuality, in fact, is the root reality of our bodily exis-tence and of our masculine nature, and has a power and a goodness that enriches human life immeasurably. However we want to describe it, you and I, men endowed with all the gifts of a masculine nature, are shaped and fashioned by every ripple and nuance of our living flesh for physi-cal intimacy with a woman. To hide this from ourselves in the name of celibacy would rob the choice of celibacy of half its meaning. The choice of celibacy can never be based upon a denial or ignoring of the inherent goodness of sexuality or the preeminent goodness of sex-ual intimacy in marriage,s Moreover, it is possible to possess one's sexu-ality in this full awareness of its essential goodness, in complete inno-cence, with a wholesome sense of dignity, freedom, wonder, apd joy in its possession and, with the same complete innocence, to look forward to and experience its joyous expression in marriage; or, if one is a celi-bate, to be profoundly appreciative of its joyous expression in marriage, with the same complete innocence.6 The choice of celibacy is not based upon a lack of appreciation for sexual intimacy in marriage or upon any conviction that the experience of marriage is in any way displeasing to God. These are simply unsound anthropological bases upon which to build a vocation to celibacy and, unwittingly, they can plant deep in.the recesses of one's motivation a time bomb ready to go off. It is unfortunate that in the history of Christian spirituality the voca-tion to celibacy has often been explained in terms that denigrate the value and beauty of sexual love in marriage. The impression is given that the choice of celibacy is somehow a flight from something radically unspir-itual and that the celibate looks upon conjugal intimacy as something be-neath his dignity, something that would mar his perfect purity. The choice of celibacy, if it is genuine, has nothing of this motivation about it, but is based solidly and squarely upon something more positive and something more exhilarating. Celibacy must be based on a profound appreciation for the gift of sex-ual intimacy as personal gift and endowment from God and as an inte-gral part of one's masculine inheritance. Nobility of soul does not fail to plumb and to appreciate the riches of masculine possibility which is the natural inheritance of an awakened and full manhood. Review for Religious, September-October 1988 This possibility, with all its splendor and enrichment, does not ex-haust the human possibility, but it does enshrine some of its noblest in-stincts, of the feelings and of the mind, and an intimacy that mirrors the very passion of God himself. As a celibate I set aside intimacy with a woman, with all its rooms of joy and beauty, only for a greater intimacy and its even more won-drous rooms of beauty, and its universe of joy. But in doing so, I will not deny the power, the significance, or the magnitude of the masculine expectancy that I set aside and turn away from. This intimacy, by what-ever name it is called, is riveted into my very flesh; the lineaments of this passionate preoccupation are traced and interlaced in the warp and woof of my very biology. The gift of manhood with all its passionate possibilities is one of the richest gifts of God. I set it aside freely, not with no appreciation for its beauty, and not with regret, but because I have stumbled on a greater beauty, a more powerful intimacy, and a more earth-shaking encounter. In the shadow of that intimacy and in the tremor of this expectancy, every other human possibility fades into insignificance. I do not hide from myself the shattering loveliness and singular beauty of the sexual intimacy that could be mine, but celibacy reaches out to something greater, fully as rich, fully as valid, and as fully a com-plement to my manhood as the rich experience of love in marriage. This is the sound anthropological base upon which the vocation to celibacy is founded. It may not be part of one's original motivation since, in the beginnings of a vocation, you are simply too busy and too taken up with the excitement of a new direction to reflect upon every element of your motivation. But ultimately what is implicit in your choice must be made explicit by thought, reflection, and personal exploration, and there must not be in the root motivation of celibacy anything resembling spiritual or moral snobbery or looking down on marriage. The choice of celibacy must be based upon some excellence in the vocation of celibacy itself, and not in mere comparison with something else. Only then can the specific excellence of the vocation to celibacy become part of your own life,~and--I am sure I do not have to repeat--thespecific excellence of celibacy is not the fact that you do not have a woman in your life or that you sleep alone. This is a necessary condition, but if that is all that celibacy means to you, you could end up being the most miserable of men, deprived of the crowning act of your masculine nature, the finest and noblest expression of your manhood, with nothing to take its place. That would be a deprivation of singular magnitude. Thoughts on Celibacy And this is something that we should never forget: As celibates we deprive ourselves of this crowning act of our masculine nature, the fin-est and most genuine expression of our masculinity that is sexual inti-macy in marriage. If that terrifying vacuum were not filled with some-thing that touched with joy the very roots of our manhood, the dep-rivation and emptiness would be almost too much to bear. This is one of the consequences of celibacy that has not often been touched upon, but it certainly explains some of the strange aberrations of clerical and religious life and some of the tragic consequences of an ill-motivated and immature commitment to celibacy. One of the major problems in the vocation to celibacy is that many celibates have not through deep personal reflection made explicit in their own minds what was implicit in their choice of celibacy and have ac-cepted, quite uncritically, an evaluation of sexuality in general, and of their own sexuality in particular, that is based on tenets of a Neoplaton-ist and Stoic anthropology embodied in an older type of spirituality. This evaluation notonly placed no value upon sexuality itself, but tended to denigrate as totally unworthy of the spiritual person the inti-mate expression of sexuality in marriage, thus negating the very mean-ing of sexuality and placing a negative judgment on the very possession of one's sexuality. Really, it all starts and ends there: What evaluation and judgment do you place upon the intimate expression of sexuality in marriage? If that judgment is a negative one, you can never really be com-fortable in the possession of your own sexuality. The true Christian evaluation of sexual intimacy in marriage, based upon the vision of sexual love embodied in the Christian revelation it-self, is that the intimate expression of sexual love in marriage is (i) the crowning act (in fa~zt, the primary and unique act) of one's manhood, (2) the finest, noblest, and most genuine expression of one's masculinity, (3) the unique expression of love between a man and a woman, (4) God's crowning gift to one's bodily existence, and (5) the gr,eatest earthly gift that God has given to the human race. This is implicit in the very choice of celibacy, even though that evalu-ation may not have been part of the conscious motivation when the choice of celibacy was made. Historically, the negative sexual tenets we have mentioned are part of a North African phenomenon that included Neoplatonism in Alexan-dria, the monastic movement in the same area, the spirituality of Eva-grius Ponticus, Tertullian, and St. Augustine (and the ascetic movement in the West), and the monastic spirituality of John Cassian, who reflected Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in his writings the sexual anthropology of the Alexandrian monastic move-ment. A healthier anthropology can be found in the robust passion for life in the classical Greek tradition, reflected in the best of Plato and the monu-mental work of Aristotle, later embodied in the Spirituality of the Greek Fathers and in the philosophical achievements of Saints Albertus Mag, nus and Thomas Aquinas. That anthropology recognized the inherent goodness of our senses and our sense life, the inherent goodness of hu-man sexuality, and the innate and preeminent goodness of the intimate expression of sex in marriage. This view, however, was never embod-ied in "traditional" spirituality and had little influence on spiritual doc-trine. The work of Aquinas, however, bore fruit in many areas over the cen-turies even though some of his basic tenets were condemned by an older "Augustinian" sChool soon after his death in 1274. In the documents of the Second Vatican Council, particularly, Gaudium et.Spes, the Aqui. nas view was recovered, and we have in the council documents a posi-tive and wholesome anthropology of sexuality7 which should have a pro-found influence on future spirituality. NOTES ~ "Students should have a proper knowledge of the duties and dignity of Christian marriage, which represents the love.that exists between Christ and the Church." Op-tatam Totius, Decree on the Training of Priests of the Second Vatican Council, ed. by Austin Flannery, 0.P~., no., 10, p. 715. 2 "They should recognize the greater excellence of virginity consecrated to Christ, however, so that they may offer themselves to the Lord with fully deliberate and gen-erous choice, and a complete surrender of body and soul." ibid. 3 Celibacy seeks, on the basis of personal:experience and personal judgment, a con~ tinual intimacy with God and with divine things; it provides that personal solitude without which, for this p_articular individual, such continual intimacy with God would be impossible or unlikely. Celibacy is not chosen because there is any value in mere sexual deprivation, but because it is a natural step towards a lifestyle totally or domi-nantly preoccupied with the eternal and the divine. Celibacy bears witness in one's own person to the eternal dimension, to the reality and significance of the eternal in human life. '~ For the purpose of this article, sexuality and sexual intima~3, have these meanings: Sexuality is a gift of God that comes with the act of creation, a personal endowment that should be borne with a certain masculine dignity and yet worn joyfully~ and lightly. Our sexuality is inherent'ly good, and so, too, is the intimacy with a wdman to which it leads. Sexual intimacy is a gift of God that comes with the very blueprint of our nature, Thoughts on Celibacy in the sense that the pattern of that intimacy is molded into our very bodies. Sexual intimacy is part of our human and masculine inheritance, and its expression in mar-riage the very crown of masculinity and femininity. But while sexual intimacy is a gift to our person and our nature, its expression is meant to be embodied in a personal choice based on love, embedded in the marriage covenant, and to be the setting and inexhaustible source of the deepest human hap-piness. Sexual intimacy comes with our nature and our personhood. It is the living expres-sion of the noblest human love and is itself the image and mirror of God's own love for human beings. By celibacy we freely deprive ourselves of this most enriching gift,'this crown of our masculinity, for the simple reason that we, called by God, have other plans for ourselves. 5 The nature of the vocation to celibacy is not a denial of the inherent goodness and sublimity of married love, but an affirmation, the affirmation of something beyond the sexual and beyond the earthly, the affirmation of another relationship and the cul-tivation of that relationship as the main occupation of one's life. Celibacy is a dep-rivation, but it is a freely chosen deprivation of something seen to be part of one's own human inheritance and something preeminently good. St. Thomas links celi-bacy to the virtue of magnificence, a certain exuberance in living, a bursting of the bonds of the ordinary to reach out to the extraordinary. It is based on a hunger for the eternal and for an intimacy as real and as stunning as the intimacy of man and woman in marriage. See Josef Pieper, The Four Cardinal Virtues (University of Notre Dame Press, 1966), pp. 145-180.' 6 Celibacy is part of the virtue of sophrosyne, touched upon in Aristotle's Ethics, with a fuller treatment in the Summa Theologiae of St. Thomas Aquinas. The object of sophrosyne is the body, and those things that are of the body (soma, somatos). There are several levels or kinds of sophrosyne: (I) joy and pride in bodily being itself (simple sophrosyne), (2) joy and pride in bodily well-being (dignity), (3) joy and pride in bodily senses (liveliness), (4)joy and pride

Issue 47.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1988. ; Communal Spirituai ~Cons01ation The Blessing of ~OId Age . . .= =,.~ ;. ::. -. : ~ - = :"~ i~',~,~ . Love and !~Apostolate Volume 47 Number 6 Nov./Dec. 1988 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REWEW FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Nov./Dec. 1988 Volume 47 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv.wv.w Fon RvaotGmus; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rv.wv.w FOR REt.mtous; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints ar~ available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Consciousness Examen: Becoming God's Heart for the World George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. Father Aschenbrenn~r, well known to almost all of our readers, returns to our pages,. His article was first published in the April-June 1988 special edition of Prayer and Service (Rome). He is the director of the Spiritual-formation program at North Ameri-can College; 00120 Vatican City State; Europe. To live contemplativeiy. Ind~ed', ~o become Whom we contempl.at~: this is the invi~gorating experience, the hallmark enterprise and adventure that human existence is all about that for which every human heart is long-ing. The magnetic appeal of~tl~e wholly beloved invites our hearts to a transformation which is never e~isy. But it is so intimately renewing as to be almost irresistible. It is the very heart 9f love. Lovers in their mu~- tual ~0ntemplation are not always explicitly aware of this process of self-transformation into which the~y ~are being swept up. But c,ertain claalleng'- ing momen, ts can starkly reveal the risky loss of self that is involved. And yet the very attractiveness of the beloved provides conviction and moti-vation t6 embrace this risk. in that magnetic moment, love seems an op-portunity not to be m'isse'd. B/at love's opportunity "and risk are also costly--and lovers finally know this. Indeed, the cost involved in the con-templation of lovers strikes to the profound level of self, id.entity. But cost what it may, the belove.d~s attractiveness lures the lover on to surpris-ingly new depths. The beloved in our reflection here is Christ Jesus, our God and Lord, our Brother and, finally, all our sisters and brothers, especially the most suffering ones across all time and space (see Mt 25:31-46). And contem-plative transformation into .this beloved is the fundamental process .in-volved in, indeed it is, devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ. It 801 [102 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 is also the process with which examination of conscience is concerned. And there we have at once the premise and the product of this reflec-tion. Both devotion to the Sacred Heart and examination of conscience have a long history in the Ignatian tradition. But they have rarely, if ever, been viewed in relationship to each other. In this article I will try to show how regular examination of conscience facilitates a transforming expe-rience of one's own heart into the beloved of one's heart, the Sacred Heart of God in Jesus Christ. After a brief summary of the contempo-rary renewed understanding of the examen, I will make use especially of some of the graces prayed for in the First Week Of the Spiritual Exer-cises, in order to describe the continuing conversion involved in a regu-lar practice of examen. Finally, in support of the claim that the examen can convert our hearts into devotion to the Sacred Heart of God, I will describe a little of the apostolic power~ the ardent love and thirst for jus-tice, of such a growing and ongoing conversion. Ongoing: for we are never done with love. In recent years there have been attempts, both within the Jesuit heri-tage and within the whole Church, to renew the understanding and prac-tice of examination of conscience and of devotion to the Sacred Heart. Examination of conscienc~ is now more of(en called consciousness ex-amen or awareness examen. ~ In its renewed form the examen continues to bless and sensitize the hearts of many busy believers to the loving pres-ence of God in all of daily life. And while much work has been done in developing a contemporary theological understanding of devotion to the Sacred Heart,2 perhaps the a~tual practice of the devotion is not so widespread as that of consciousness examen, or at least is not widespread among those who frequently make use of consciousness examen. This article, finally, though its central point is to relate the two practices, is concerned more with the personal effects of regular examen than it is with the details of traditional or recent developments in devotion to the Sacred Heart. Renewed Understanding of Examen In the renewed understanding of the examen, two insights are key. First, a much more positive perspective has corrected a past view that often deteriorated into an overly negative, moralistic misunderstanding. Rather than highlighting the bad actions of a day, the examen gives pri-mary concern to what is primary: God's revelation, a steadfast love in Christ Jesus always inviting and invigorating our consciousness. Formal examen sensitizes our hearts to the presence of this love in the ordinary Becoming God's Heart / 803 details of every day. Whenever this love is recognized and responded to, our hearts simply must c9~me aliw~ with joy and gratitude. So gratitude is the major element in the actual time of examen-prayer, as it should also be in our daily lives of faith. And this gratefulness for the wonder of God's love stirs hearts to action. And so gratitude becomes the chief motive from which all ministry pours. As the examen begins to make our hearts more aware of God's .per-during Io.ve, we also begin to recognize flow often and how easily we can b~ oblivious to that love, or how subtly, yet quite stubbornly, we can refuse response to love. This realization, when faced honestly and not rationalized away, can, whether rudely or quietly, awaken our hearts with healthy guilt, with sorrow and repentance. As this article will de-velop later, this, experience of guilt and sorrow is anything but pleasant; yet, as an experience of God's love, it does purify us, it does transform us. And the effect of that can only be a bolder, freer, more wide-ranging apostolic service. Mature faith and discipleship cannot happen without this painful transformation in the humiliating experience of guilt and sorrow. As the repentant sinner encounters God's forgiveness in Je-sus, sorrow is transformed into hopeful, vigorous gratitude--and a burn-ing zeal to serve God's loving justice in our world. In this way, thanks-giving-- the central driving force in the heart of any mature disciple of Jesus Christ--dominates the dailyexamen and fuels its impulse toward loving action. A second insight that renews our understanding.of the examen is the importance of the informal examen, as distinguished from, though obvi-ously not unrelated to, the formal examen.3 The formal examen is a spe, cific time and style of prayer:. In a previous article I described the five traditional elements of such prayer.4 Never meant as an end in itself, this formal practice of examen should gradually .spill over and infiltrate it-self, as a special faith,sensitivity, into a person's daily ,life. And so we come upon the informal examen:a way of living. The informal examen is more a matter of who we.are and who we are becoming, whereas the formal examen is a specifid prayer we regularly practice. Thus a .regular practice of examen can lead to that self-transformation which make pos-sible a genuine faith-sensitivity of heart, a dynamic connaturality with the Beloved, which we are calling here informal examen. This dynamic development of formal examen into informal, into a pervasive faith-sensitivity of heart, is crucial--crucial both to a proper understanding of examen itself and to its role in the human heart's deeply desired experi-ence of love: our becoming whom we contemplate. Review for Religious, November-December 1988 Daily Conversion in Faith Jesus' ministry erupts publicly among the peopl(-inoa great sense of urgency: a wholly new revelation of God's love and the need for reform of mind and heart, if One is to recognize and respond~to that love. It is so clear at the beginning of Mark and in the synagogue-scene of chapter four in Luke. This radical personal conversion of faith is often described in the Scriptures as a matter of repentance. As a conx~ersion that will cost a whole lifetime, 'it continually involves the risking and sacrificing of a temptingly attractive but false, illusory self while radically true and ra-diantly new creation is born in a person's daily response to the quiet ur-genc~ of God's love. But no experience of merely passing excitement will suffice for this. Nor ~can such repentance and radical change of outlook ever be re-duced simply~ tb our own planning and control. A strategy of clear-sighted tactics and of fierce determination will always prove futile all by itself. In fact, if not properly motivated and accompanied by grace, it can actually corrupt the very adventure of faith into something"unwhole-some and unholy. With0ut,a genuin(rexperience of the wonder of God's love, the Gospel call, the call by grace and favor to radical change, can-not be heard, and healthy repentance cannot happen.5 It is the attractive beauty and power of God's love which reveals the inadequacy and sin-fulness of our condition and unlooseris in our hearts a desire to be much more than what we now may be. It is in this way that the w~onder of God's love reveals our sinfulness. And this profound truth, so capable of being misunderstoOd, is always the bedrock of mature spiritual life. God alone sees our sinfulness most clearly for what it truly is: a choice against love. And it is this God who calls us to intimacy in the beautiful revelation of Jesus come among us as forgiveness. Every detail of Je-sus' life, most especially his dramatic experience on Calvary, stretches and stirs 6ur hearts in hope for a new creation, a new life, a whole new self. But repentance, with its'purifying pain and.suffering, is the only way to this urgently longed-for newness. ¯ ~An ,honest repentant.acknowledgment of sinfulness.in the face of such love is neither'obxiious nor easy, because it cuts Our consciousness in humiliation. 'The guilt and shame and the embarrassment that come in the wake of such~an acknowledgment sting and. singe our conscious-ness. In the presence of such love, they make our spirits blush. The pain and hurt will, most often ,~" and quite spontaneouslyl make us wary and seel~ to activate d~fense mechanisms such'~ as the rationalizations of de-nial and the distractions,~not of joy, but of pleasure. These are moments Becoming God's Heart / 805 for careful discernment in the life of any believer, For the humiliating pain of acknowledged sin, as intended here, is not the result of some overly scrupulous conscience. Nor is it the unhealthy guilt of self-hatred. Rather it is the purifying consolation--not desolation, but con-solation~ however scouring--the consoling experience of God calling us to greater love and life and faith. Despite the pain, therefore, this repen-tant blush of heart is a grace not to be rejected. It is essential to any ma-ture faith, to any measured zeal for God's world, to any discipleship that hopes.to brave the road's full distance. The guilt that introduces our embarrassed, repentant response to God'.s great, tender love requires a brief description here. Much past ex-p. eoence of unhealthy guilt has understandably provoked the over-reaction against, even to the l~oint of a dangerous disregar.d, of, ~all guilt as if all guilt were unhealthy. Though unhealthy guilt can surely plague and disi~eart~n.us, yet there is a guilt born of God. A'nd it ~;tings. But for the lover, it also signals the Beloved's presence, a very active pres-ence, a redemptive consciousness, inoviting great~er intimacy in faith with God. Urihealthy guilt is always anxious, wo~:rie~ aboiat self, in excessive fear of punishment, preoccupied with failure, at tim6s verging on despair in the face of some unrealistic pe~rfectionism. But healthy, consoling guilt is always the result of an interpersonal Iov,e .relationship. And it focuses the heart beyond the self, on the Beloved, in painful so~:row for the wound one's lack of love has caused. Healthy .guilt does not despair, nor does it disrupt the deepest peace of the soul. The reason for this is that healthy guilt is always intimately and very positively related to encoun-ter, a repentant sinner's encounter with God's forgiveness revealed and available now in a crucified Son's intransigent love. In the Dying, a New Life But in the tense struggle'of this inner guilt, shame, and sorrow, we usually become aware of the risk and high stakes involved. A self, or some aspect of a self with which we have been enamored, perhaps for a long time, must be let go of, Something must die if the new is to be born. It is a mortifying experience, but, as it is not a mortification sim-ply of our own making, neither can the outcome of it be clearly grasped in advance, It is a moment of perceived high risk. And the helplessness of such a moment, when we are on the verge of letting go of what used to be and are. not yet in possession of what will be, can profoundly daunt and agitate our spirit. Furthermore, it is in no way simply our own power and ingenuity that will create a different future. In the helpless and sor-rowful awareness of our sinfulness, it is only an 'act of trusting abandon- Review for Religious, November-December 1988 ment of self, sometimes done in the dark aloneness of faith, that will al-low the Beloved to gift us with God's holiness, our only true human fu-ture. A process of conversion that has begun in love leads now to even greater love as a beloved God, in that faithful promise which is the risen Jesus, defies all darkness and rejects absurdity and pain as the final word, whether about this world or the next. The heart of God revealed in"Jesus excites our hearts with the invi-tation to a new and brighter future. But only a heart scoured clean in the humiliation of repentance can respond to that invitatiofi. The issue is as profound as self-transformation and as hopeful as a wholly new c?eation. But without a mortified, response to God's loving invitation and without a risky letting go of self, such a future remains simply tantalizing, cheap grace, illusion. The forgiving love of God ~brings th~ process of repentance to a con-clusion o~ lively gratitude, profound joy, and enthusiastic zeal for min-istry. The sorrow of a forgiven sinner is not depressing, however pain-fully purifying. Neither is this sorrow obliterated by the joyous gratitude and zeal for servic~ that realized forgiveness brings. Rather, the humility of a saved sinner, while not destructively focused on the past, neve'r sim-ply forgets the sorrowful memory of forgiven sin. One cannot help but wonder whether Peter in the maturi~ty of his joy, during his after-breakfast walk with the risen Jesus, did not once again find his eyes well up with tears as three awkward questions burned his soul with his own lonely truth, but burned it precisely for the sake of fidelity, the journey in companionship, and, yes, for the great holiness of Peter that lay ahead (Jn 21:15-19). The new self created in God's fo¢giveness is always strongly char-acterized by a profound, joyful thanksgiving for a deed neither deserved nor capable of accomplishment on one's own. This deed of forgiveness and the hope of a new and better future resonate strongly in the repen-tarot sinner's heart, now riveted on the challenging beauty of God's for-giving love, found fleshed forever in Jesus on the cross. And so the whole dynamic of the First Week of the Spiritual Exercises propels a per-son to confrontation, to enlightenment and encouragement before this pas-sionate experience of Jesus on Calvary. Having taken upon himself the sins of all, this Son, anguished in an olive grove over the agonizing pros-pect of a humiliating death, is able to renew that trusting abandonment of self which allows himoto find once again, as always, not previous to, but in the very abandonment of dying, his dear Father. And his beloyed Father blesses this anguished abandonment with a future of absolute full- Becoming God's Heart ness in resurrection. In the face of such enlivening abandonment on Je-sus' part, we can find the graceful encouragement needed for that sur-render of self which repentance always demands. It is at this moment that the graces of fidelity and perseverance take root in the forgiven sinner's experience. And so Jesus' death into the fu-ture of resurrection stands faithfully, for all ages, as God's forgiveness. It gives graceful encouragement to all repentant sinners in this risky and humiliating process of self-transformation. The persevering faithfulness of this new creation, this new heart, will always depend on how pro-foundly, how pervasively transformed the repentant sinner is in the en-counter with God's Word of forgiveness. As we gaze on God's forgiveness in Jesus crucified, besides a lively gratitude and profound joy, our heart knows the expansiveness of a great desire for God in Jesus--an apostolic desire to give ourselves as Jesus did in the ministry of God's forgiving justice. This desire at the end of the First Week continues to expand as the attractiveness of God's love in Jesus is revealed through the remaining weeks of the Exercises. God's Spirit and kingdom revealed so compellingly in Jesus become our whole-hearted desire. To live in daily imitation of Jesus, to serve as an apostle in whatever way God desires, becomes the very energy of our hearts. And yet, as the experience continues, this desire can stretch our hearts still further: we may be so transformed, we may, in such transformation, be so intimately identified with Jesus, that we become and, in the thor-oughly real way the mysticism of baptism and Eucharist accomplish in us, we may be Jesus in and for our world. And so ttie joyous thanksgiv-ing of a forgiven sinner, so much more than .a mere devotional satisfac-tion, sets our hearts afire with such desire for new identity in Christ Je-sus that we become mystical activists, heralds everywhere of the good news of God's transforming forgiveness. This reflection offers the view that consciousness examen may play a role of special importance in facilitating such a process of radical con-version. The profundity and pervasiveness of the transformation spoken of will depend in large measure on a regular practice of examen. And rather than putting a clear conclusion to the process of radical conver-sion, the Exercises provide enlightening direction for the further and con-tinual deepening of desire for this daily identification with Jesus. For this reason, as the formal Exercises conclude and move to become daily life, we are always left with an even greater need than before for regular ex-amen, that we may continue the daily discernment of God's love con-verting us steadily into Christ Jesus our Lord. Review for Religious, November-December 1988 Goal of Examen: Devotion to the Sacred Heart of God ,in Jesus Long after the retreat experience of the Exercises is finished, regu-lar examen keeps our heart sensitive and responsive to the attractiveness of the Sacred Heart of God: ifi Jesus.As we have already seen, thanks-giving and sorrow are the two chief affections in faith of the examen-- and the sorrow itself, as we~have also seen, finds its fulfillment in thanks-giving.~ And so it is in. and through its term of thanksgiving that regular cxamen mediates our conversion and growth into Christ Jesus. Through the basic thrust of the ex.amcn, each believer becomes a concrete embodi, merit here and now of the Sacred Heart of God in Jesus. Consciousness examen, therefore, by facilitating the transformation whereby.a serious believer and disciple becomes devoted to the Sacred Heart,is profoundly related tothat same,,devotion.For in this sens~e of the word, devotion re-fers to the fundamental shape and orientation of a believing heart to the Heart of God in Christ Jesus. And this sense of devotion cuts far be-neath-- it does not necessarily deny but rather must root--any specific, traditional devotional details and practices. .~o ¯ The transformation of self whereby our hearts radically become de-votion to the Sacred Heart accomplishes some perceptible results in our lives. Growing integrity of heart, wholeheartedness, Ignatian magnanim-ity gradually centers, unites, and identifies our whole person and pres-ence in the world. A white inner stillness, fanned to burning flame in God's own creative love, radiates an. energy bf, recollection~a collect= edness--that can meld our often fragmentary faith into the Strong, live organism of a life decisively for God. Such wholeheartedness first gives enlightenment, then courage, to-wards a fundamental desire and choice in the direction of the "heav-enly" things of consolation and away from the "earthly" things of deso-lation. These desolate "earthly" things live in our flesh as the seven capi-tal, selfish impulses toward sin that the Christian tradition ~has known so well for centuries; whereas the "heavenly" things of God's consoling love are the opposite impulses which also live in our consciousness where the Spirit of Jesus invites and breathes their confirmation, their development in us, as virtues, as the very shape of our .heart. In the in-terweaving complexity and tangle of our daily consciousness, we dis-cover that the tempting experience of these capital impulses to sin is pre-cisely the battlefield upon which the fidelity of our commitment and de-votion to the virtuous heart of God. in Christ is tested and strengthened. And so it is usually by standing strong against the tempting intensity of lust that the virtue of chastity grows. It is by decisively acknowledging Becoming God's Heart .and carefully standing against the violence of desolate rage that the ten-sile strength of nonviolent gentleness is forged. And so of all the per, sonal and community motions of spirit that impel us towards or away from the justice of the Reign of God. The examen is.daily involvement in this process of transforming the impulsive desolations of our conscious-ness into the deep, consoling devotion and virtue of God's Sacred Heart. Once again, as described earlier in this article, we notice that it is pre-cisely in the dying that the new is born.And what is newly born through these mortifying struggles on the inner battlefield of our heart--the heart of each of us and the communal, societal heart of each group, each so-cial structure--always affects apostolic presence in the world, always af-fects decisively actions for or against God's justice as revealed in the lov-ing Heart of Jesus. Fifially, this conversion into the Sacred Heart of God in Jesus, this process of our becoming devotion to the Sacred Heart, does not displace offr weakness ~vith an arrogant sense of ~Sur own stren~gth. No~, just the o'ppo~site! Maturity in faith is always growth t0 grateful realization both of our weakness and of our dependence on God's love for everything. A steadfast belief in God's love does not r.eplace human weakness. Rather, it helps us patiently to wait upon the Lord and recognize arid cele-brate God's love bringing strength into our weakness. For God's power is at its best in our weakness (se.e 2 Co 12:7-10). It is a power that is needed, for becoming whom we contemplate takes courage, even as it brings energy for it. It is high adventure, with a promised wage of per-secution, to enter and be taken up into the affectivity of Jesus, God's coun-tercultural heart for the world. Consciousness examen, then, is not a way to greater, self-reliant strength. But as its daily practice transforms us into the Sacred Heart, we may become whom we contemplate and so stand in this world as liv-ing witnesses, agents of love, inviting others into God's Heart in Christ Jesus: "Come to me, all you who are weary and over-burdened, and I will give you rest! Put on my yoke and learn from me. For I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light"(Mt 11:28-30). And one more time we listen to the Beloved, becoming whom we contemplate: "This text is being fulfilled, today, even as you listen . . . 'The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord's year of favor' " (Lk 4:16-21). I~10 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 Through a companionship with Jesus made intimate and tender, strong and apostolically peremptory, through days and years of fidelity to the examen of consciousness, and through the dynamic energy con-tinually released in the experience of forgiven sinfulness, we may come to the apostolic gift which the fidelity of the friends of God can know. In becoming whom we contemplate, we may devoutly, reverently, boldly, and with his thirst for justice become, each of us and together, in the Holy Spirit, God's own heart for the world. NOTES t George Aschenbrenner, S.J., "Consciousness Examen," R~.v~Ew ~oR REt.IG~ot~s 3 I (1972): 14-21. See also the lengthy, very helpful article of David Keith Townsend, S.J., "The Examen Re-Examined," CIS 18, 2 (1987): 11-64. 2 Annice Callahan, R.S.C.J., Karl Rahner's Spirituality of the Pierced Heart: A Re-interpretation of Devotion to the ~a~'red Heart (New York: University Press of Amer-ica, 1985). This book contains references to the essential texts of Rahner on this sub-ject. 3 George Aschenbrenner, S.J., "A Check on Our Availability: The Examen," Rw~w ~oR RE~.~o~ot~s 39 (1980): 321-324. '~ Art. cit., R~vl~.w ~oR R~.~G~ot~s 31 (1972): 14-21. 5 See my article "Forgiveness," Sisters Today 45 (1973): 185-192. Clustering Thomas More Page, C.F.X. Brother Thomas More has written for us before, most recently in our issue of March/ April 1986: "Centering Prayer: A Flight to Reality." He lives at Mission Santa Bar-bara; 2201 Laguna Street; Santa Barbara, California 93105. Three years ago our provincial asked if the members of the province would be willing to commit themselves to form prayer cluster gr.oups dur-ing th~ course of the coming.year. The clusters would be small, six to eight people, voluntary, and would pledge themselves to meet at least twice a year over a long weekend. The timing of the formation of these clusters was just right, for by this time in our history a spirit of trust had ,been developed among the brothers, largely as the result of several provincial gatherings which were organized along different lines from provincial chapters. Provincial chap-ters consisted of a number of elected delegates who deliberated in a for-mal and businesslike manner over a prepared agenda, generally using par-liamentary procedures or "processes" for handling this agenda. The "gatherings," on the other hand, were open to all members and were constructed around themes which were meant to evoke a personal and communal faith-response within the ambience of prayer, personal and communal, with emphasis on our commonality as brothers. Within this framework we related our struggles and successes, recalled our sinful and graceful history, and spent blocks of time in prayerful reflection. Along with appropriate communal prayers composed around the theme of the gatherings, there were carefully prepared liturgies. Some unexpected results came from these new ways of meeting. There was a power released in many that had a healing effect. The prov-ince had experienced a deep division that had a traumatic effect upon the 811 812 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 members, leaving many wounds and a feeling of alienation, along with an unsettling disorientation. Then, also, there was a disturbing loss of identity. But here at these gatherings we were learning to speak a new language--that of faith speaking from lived experience. We spoke from the deepest levels of our lives. We spoke also of who we were. And we listened. In speaking and listening and praying we built up a new rela-tionship with one another andbegan the process of healing and more im-portantly, of refounding and celebrating our identity as brothers. With this healing and rediscovery, the level of trust rose proportionately. Also, an energizing power once more flowed through the province. Having thus rediscovered our identity within the healing and fraternal gatherings, we were ready for the proposal to take the next step of form.ing prayer clusters. The method used to form.the first experimental clusters, three in all, was simple, yet somewhat complicated. We were asked to jot down the names of those brothers with whom we would feel comfortable in such an intimate setting, along with the names of those with whom we would not feel comfortable. The provincial turned the names over to a brother-sociologist, who, after a long Struggle with the assignment, canoe up with three group'ings, ~,hich, ~after some further adjustments, were refined'. The members of the three groups were then asked to begin the process: Some brothers bypassed this process and began on their own. The group I was in has met three°times over the last year and a half. One person had volunteered to prepare th6 agenda for the first session; another, to find a suitable place where the f~icilities were such that they guaranteed the kind of atmosphere needed for this type of meeting. We had agreed that finances should not be an obstacle towards attendance and that, if anyone needed assistance, the group would come to his aid. To dat~, we have met in such diverse places as Loretto, Kentucky; St. Louis, Missouri; and Santa Barbara Mission, California. Our three ma-jor themes were: (.1) Make a review of your life. Isolate one'incident where you had to make a radical decision. How did you resolve it? (2) What has been your experience of God? How has your prayer life devel-oped over the years? (3) What significant things have happened to yot] since our last meeting? Relate an incident of injustice you have experi-enced. How did you handle it? Rather than further describing the mechanics of the prayer-cluster ex-perience, I prefer now to become more personal and isolate three major movements I saw take place. The most singular and overarching move-ment that tied the sessions together was what I would call spiritual inti- Clustering macy, which John Dunne describes as "the heart's desire." 'I had not expected that this would happen, and so it came as a surprise a grace. I was led into the most secret chambers of my brothers' minds and hearts--places that had hitherto been in darkness and inaccessible to oth-ers. To be drawn into a brother's faith experience; to walk with him as he tells me, in language uncluttered by grammatical rubrics, about his personal history--to be drawn into such an intimate circle was to become a witness to how his journey shaped, and molded him. It was to become a companion, a friend, a brother, who has been made aware and has made him aware of the sacredness of his history. He would no longer be alone to those to whom he had opened a clearing where the heart spoke without caution or~embarrassment. Released from the fenced area of private prayer and buried thoughts, each brother opened up the land, scape of his soul, where what was once unspoken, silent, became sto-ries that were, in the words of John Shea, "witnesses to grace, ~tutter-ing accounts, at times,,of,the God whose ways are unknown to us." And after each account, there was a zone of silence more reverent and expec-tant than the hushed, silence that follows upon the last plucked strings of Segovia's guitar. And thus it was that each brother, within the intimate circle of fra-ternal shari.ng, was able to speak without fear,about those things in his life he believed in, knowing that he could do this becau_se he had the sup~ port and trust of his listeners. This spiritual intimacy led to the second movement: a new sense of ideiatity. Each brother spoke in,what Robert Bella calls the "language of the heart," where one is caught up in the restless, flux of thought un-tethered by grammatical ,rubrics. When one heart speaks and another lis-tens, each is .drawn closer together in the bonds of fellowship. The ex-perience of spiritual intimacy made each ,brother feel he was participating in a fellowship in which his identity as a person and a brother was re-captured, maybe even rediscovered. When we were drawn into the feeling level of the brothers as they told their story, there was a shift that brought all the hearers into one com-mon community with common roots. What was experienced was the joy of belonging, with the discovery that "joy is deeper than agony" (Nietzsche). This kind of interchange is what J. A. Appleyard, S.J., would call "agonistic" in the "best sense of the word: it struggles to articulate primary experience, and in doing so it creates an intersUbjec-tive reality, sets relationships of cordialit~y and professionalism on a new basis of experienced faith." Through this deep experience of sharing 1~14 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 their faith, the. brothers broke through the polite slogans by which they once related and placed their newly found relationship on a personal level where their faith journeys converged towards the two poles necessary for a humanly growth-producing state: a deep relationship with God and a deep feeling of brotherhood. This senSe of personal and communal identity, this joy of belong-ing, is not something entirely emotional. It is something more than that. Its merit is that it drew the group into the beguiling and dreaming air of what brotherhood can become, where brother relates to brother. As Bishop Tutu once wrote, "You blossom among those who keep affirm-ing." The third movement was the awareness on the part of the brothers that this experience of spiritual intimacy and the rediscovery of their iden-tity' as brothers was not done within a vacuum, but was fashioned from the agenda of the world from which they temporarily withdrew. If one listened closely to their stories, one became acutely conscious that the brothers came to the cluster to gain strength and support to become even more prayerful men of faith who want to'develop a spirituality for jus-tice and equality which is nonviolent, hopeful, courageous, and collabo-rative. They came from their deep involvement in such ministries as: chemical dependency; professional involvement in heavy ethical and medi-cal questions; inner-city and upper-level-income schools; directors of re-newal programs for clergy and religious; organizers of immigrants from Central America. Against this varied background, they spoke of their call and their efforts toward a radical commitment to be voices for the voice-less, prophets in today's Church and world. They spoke of how they might effectively be involved in the women's movement and how they could be brother to them in their struggles; of the issues and the injus-tices which cry out for their voice; of how they might clarify and articu-late a response to the needs of the Church and of society; of how they can speak out and act individually and collectively regarding specific in-justices they see within the Church; of.how they might be able to speak out about the clericalism within the Church and religious orders; of how they can instill in students values opposed to a consumer society and a vision of the universality of the human family. Clustering, then, has been for the brothers a powerful force for sustaining them.in their involvement in the issues paramount in our society and Church. Without this aware-ness, they realize, the clusters could become a cozy and self-~fulfilling affair, hardly any different from social gatherings or an evening of ca-maraderie. ., ~, Clustering What has been the effect of these clusters on the membership? The question is best answered by the provincial who initiated the effort. In a very recent letter, he wrote as follows: "It is clearly evident that the Lord has been blessing us in a particular way over these last years. Our numbers may be decreasing and most of us may be aging; still we are at a depth of commitment and a level of true fraternal sharing that I per-sonally had never experienced before in my years as a Xaverian. I have lived over forty years of very happy times--of real mutual fraternal as-sistance and good-natured camaraderie. However, it is, I believe, only in these later years that we have begun to share what is deepest in our lives, in our thoughts and feelings. It is only recently that we have be-gun to share what happens to us in our prayers, to open ourselves to each other at the depths of our intimate private prayer. The mutual understand-ing, encouragement, and joy that this. sharing has produced in us is evi-dent every time we gather together: it is vibrant, palpable, and promotes further joy. It is true spiritual happiness, a real spiritual consolation." The Sanctuary Lamp Amid the silence of the night the waxen sentinels do not their vigil keep but one lone beacon stirs the midnight air. The flame, so silent her voice yet so dauntless the strength gathered in the surgings of light defying darkness. How hidden the strain of solitude's demands to give with gentle grace life's unseen gift of gold while others bask in daylight's sweet caress. Barbara Ann Opfer 2027 Campbell, B-8 Sandusky, Ohio 44870 TheMirror in the Field Joseph A. Tetlow, S.J. . , Father Tetlow has worked in the religious formation of junior religious and of theol-ogy students. He is currently spiritual director to the cle~rgy of th, e Diocese of Aus-tin, facilitator of the spirituality program in the Central Texas Pastoral Centel, and tertian director of~the New Orleans Province of the Soc'iety 6f Jesus. He liveg at Xavier Hall; 907 Lydia Street; Austin, Texas 78702. Fvery literate American can rattle off the list of major flaws in the Ameri-can psyche: workaholism, negative self-image, inability to make com-mitments, perfectionism, and so on. We absorb the list from psycho-babble, but we do not accept that these flaw~':are mere personality quirks, "just the way we are." On the contrary, we have the vague but persis-tent sense that not being able not to work, or living continually down on self, or failing in seriously made commitments, and so on, represents some kind of moral or religious wrong. W6' do not, however, know the name of the wrong. I make an attempt here to name that wrong and to diagnose the spiri-tual sickness lurking under workaholism and the rest. Why do business-men who really trust God nonetheless work themselves into coronary care? Why do mature Christians feel that'their prayer is trivial because they do not focus on divine things the way a computer focuses on its data? How can a woman go through a long preparation, soberly take mar-riage vows, and walk away from her Spouse two years later? What would make holy old religious consider themselves worthless? I will contend, first, that a single, serious spiritual failing commonly underlies these spiritual sicknesses. The failing is that we do not believe in and attend to the passionate love of God continually creating each hu-man self. Very likely, many have not even made an adult commitment to a principal foundational truth of revelation: God continues at every mo- 816 The Mirror in the Field ment the Creator even of the free human self. I will argue, secondly, that we have honorable reasons for finding it hard to keep this truth in mind. I will list five. However, thirdly, even if our reasons are honorable, we suffer a good deal because of this unmindfulness. Specifically, we suffer a syn-drome of problems that constantly show 'up in spiritual direction and re-treats, beginning with the perfectionism, negative self-imaging, and workaholism already mentioned and including others. I will list another five that I have observed. These problems, I will insist, have specifically psychological moments, but when we escape our psychological suffer-ing from, say, negative self-imaging, we then face a specifically spiri-tual issue of appropriate self-love. It is the root spiritual problem I am interested in here. To analyze it, fourthly, I. will return to and expand on my first point. For I find the root of this whole range of problems in our refusal to accept God's crea-tive loving not in the abstract (we all give notional assent to God the Crea-tor every Sunday), but in the concrete. I mean that we reject God's cre-ating when we choose to dislike, hate, or repudiate the concrete gifts that I am given and .the whole gift that I am. This radical refusal strains or even breaks an appropriate relationship with the self and with God. Finally, I will suggest that in some measure the cure for all of these problems lies in a wholehearted, living yes to the concrete realities in my history, in my life, and in the self that emerges within them. Forgetting the Constantly Creating God. As children we answered the question "Who made me?" with the belief ~'God made me." Now adults, we need to know that the question cannot read who made, but who is making me. l~or we know that it is not the case that G~)d made me in an historical event done with and over. It is the case that God, who is at every moment Maker, keeps on making me. In the fullest sense, my Maker keeps~3n shaping me as a human per-son and as a self. As a child I imagihed that God creates the w,ay rain fills a. vessel" It rains. The rain fills the vessel. The rain stops. The vessel remains filled. So God made me and now I am. This is an infantile conviction we need to grow out of. If I choose adult belief, I must imagine that God creates the way the sun illumines a mirror standing in a field. The sun's light fills the mirror and the mirror shines back. Did the sun stop. shin-ing, the mirror would go blank; as long as the sun shines, the mirror it-self radiates, light. So, as long as God's creating love burns in me, I am coming to be: Did he stop loving me right now--per impossibile, we like Review for Religious, November-December 1988 to think--I would stop right now coming to be. I would go blank. Why go back over these simple truths? Most feel that, put this baldly, they are too obvious to need saying. Indeed they are obvious, so obvious that we let them fade from functional beliefs to mere formali-ties in our faith-life. For God is so faithful and steadfast that we simply and unreflectively take for granted, not only his love, but even more his creating. Indeed, when men and women turn to God today (as at the be-ginning of a retreat, or in the middle of a life crisis), we gladly accept our divine parent cherishing us and we find deep consolation.and mean-ing in the Lord of all things loving us personally. We are by no means so quick to know our God as our constantly acting, all-powerful creator. I do not mean that the indifferent and sinful among us forget God creating. My experience in spiritual direction and retreat-giving leads me to contend that even people who pray regularly live unmindful of God's actiTe creating. Many who make the thirty-day lgnatian Exercises learn at the beginning to bask in God's steadfast love for them, but never ac-quiesce in the principal foundational truth: that what God wants must pene-trate my whole life and my whole self simply because God the Origin keeps on as the First Maker even of the human self as I keep emerging. We have learned in recent decades to take comfort in the thought that I am not yet complete, not yet finished; but we limit the meaning of that to not being finished making my own self, not mindful of the Other who has not yet finished, either. Perhaps we are not mindful of God's making because we get con-founded by trying to figure out how God's freedom and my personal free-dom fit together. We do indeed face some tremendous Speculative diffi-culties in fitting together human and divine freedom, and some people may suffer spiritual problems because of their speculations. But I have only very rarely met the person who labors under a kind of Luciferian aloneness before God, strapped into spiritual inertia by metaphysical co-nundrums. Most commonly, people live unmindful of God creating for deeply personal and experiential reasons, rooted in our current perception of our self and in our appreciation (or lack of it) of our concrete, per-sonal gifts. Honorable Reasons We are not to believe, however, that we fail to live mindful of the passionately making God from dishonest anger or sinful defiance~ On the contrary, I believe that we fail for several honorable reasons. The first, I think, comes from the way we now perceive the self. John Donne has argued that in the twentieth century we think of the self The Mirror in the Field as a reality that each of us brings forth. I am producing, I am making, myself. Our conviction sh6ws up in the way we talk: I have to do my own thing. I gotta be me. I have to be true to myself. I want to be authen-tic. In earlier ages people perceived the self differently. For instance, when Mary said, "My soul magnifies the Lord," she was perceiving her "self" as the sum total of her human experience. When she said, "The Lord has done great things in me," she was not talking about her little life right then. She was talking about the entire range of her little life history, all of the beginning, middle, and end. When Jesus asked, "What would a man gain if he got the whole world and lost his self?" he was not making an obscure point about some mysterious essence; he was making an obvious point about the man's entire life, his whole his-tory, his full being. Everyone can understand the point that nothing could reward a man for trashing that. We do not think that way. When we talk about our self, we .are talk-ing about something much more circumscribed, and still in process. We feel engaged in that process in every one of our initiatives and responses. We sense that we are bringing forth who I am moment by moment out of our experience, out of our history. So where does God fit in? We find it much easier to think of God as the Maker of things that are finished, and the Maker of things of which I am not the maker. We find it diffi-cult to keep in touch with the God who keeps engaged in making my whole self. The second reason why we find it: hard to keep mindful of this pas-sionately creating Love in us comes out of our relatively new knowledge of depth psychology. We can easily believe, as any child might, that God once created a self whole and intact, on whom others subsequently wreaked havoc. But we find it hard to believe two things: that God could create a self hag-ridden by an unconscious full of horrors and an id ooz-ing unresolved conflicts. And then, that God could actively continue cre-ating a self that learns lusts, neuroses, compulsions, phobias, and addic-tions before it is intelligently free or while it must choose under ruinous constraints. Does God make the self that craves alcohol which destroys that self? In what way can God be responsible for a self compelled to break out in shingles instead of breaking out of an insufferable situation? How is any god involved in creating that self? How could God be creat-ing a lesbian whose unchosen, vehement sexual desires clash shatteringly with her own cherished conscience? Both speculatively and experien-tially, we have trouble finding God's creating love inside the post- 820 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 Freudian human personality. Thirdly, I think that we find it hard t~ believe that God actively shapes the self because we are so aware of sin structured into our world and of our own introjection of those structured sins. Unavoidably in my society, I feel certain racial prejudices. I came to understand only as an adult how much I am driven b~ sexism. Again with my society, I am com-ing to comprehend the blindnesses of ageism. Ev.ery day, we Americans feel the weight of the world's wealth, which so inequitably divides hu-mankind. Thus, in vague but poignant ways, we feel responsible for struc-tured sin and guilty for our part in it; and yet we feel quite helpless to change things. Why would a good God be creating oa feckless, con-founded self like mine? Fourthly, we face this business of a negative self-image. I find this ugly self-disvaluing hard to define or describe, but great numbers of pop-psychology books suggest that it is very strong. In books like Theodore Isaac Rubin's Compassion and Self-Hate and M. Scott Peck's People of the Lie, psychiatrists contend that distrust and despising of the self poi-sons the American psyche the way radioactive wastes poison: AmeriCan watertables. And noting the tide of seminars on assertiveness and self-improvement and all the Esalen Institutes around, we are forced to con-clude that something is going on in the self-evaluation of postmodern hu-mankind, and it is not positive. We are all members of David Riesman's "lonely crowd." Just recently we celebrated an anniversary and listened again to "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." We resonated again to the Beatles' famous line: "All the lonely people, where do they all come from?" Indeed; where do they come from? We find it hard to keep mindful that all these listless folk are the current achievement of a pas-sionately loving God. Fifthly and finally, our difficulties are intensified hourly by the ad-vertisers and taste-makers. They persuade us of the self that we "ought" to,be. During the 1930s, practitioners came to believe that advertising could go far beyond merely extolling the virtues of a product. They de-cided that real advertising should make people feel that we truly need what is being advertised, that we cannot hope to live as fulfilled persons unless we are supported by that product. Ever since, that is how adver-tising works~---and it really does work--teaching us to feel out of it, apart~ not fulfilled, without an infinite number of products and services. Since we are effectively made to feel the need of something new just about every week~ we ~.ever can come to feel that we really belong, are included, are coming to fulfillment. So where is the passionately loving The Mirror in the Field God who is said to be at the core of my--empty-feeling, craving-to-be-filled-- self? There are the five honorable reasons why we find it difficult to stay mindful of God creating us right now and to live attuned to the passion, ate love of God burning in our hearts. Of course, even~if theseoreasons are honorable, they do not make it impossible for us to be responsible for our relationships to our self and to our God. The Sin of Our Age And even if they are honorable reasons, we suffer on account of them. We might have good reason for runn~ing' a car off the road, and still fracture our skull. For these five fractured insight~ into the self give us a badly distorted vision of it and make it easy for us to suffer an inap-propriate self-lov6. That inappropriate self-love, I believe, is the root sin of our age and it produces the whole syndrome of spiritual problems that I will come to i'n the next set of paragraphs. We stand under the commandment "Love your neighbor as your-self." We are thereby under a spiritual obligatioh of ultimate conse-quence,~ since the Last Judgmerit will be made in terms of how well w~ have loved our neighbor. And yet we pay almost no attention to that as yourself and we do not know how to love ourselves well. We give our-selves to many fake wa'ys: self-indulgence in drugs and'sensuous living, the narcissisms of body-building and dieting and fashion, the willful search for the perfect mate, and so ow. But Christlike self-love, or wise and fully human self-love? We hardly ~omprehend what it is: : And yet the spiritual success of appropriate self-love has been de-scribed for us iri wh'ole shelves of books. Their distilled wisdom can be put this way: Appropriate self-love begins in approving and growing to like the divine good in myself--the gifts that I have and the gift that0I am. I approve of my gifts in the concrete, not in the abstract, so that I enjoy (as possible instances) my yen to bevice-president or my daily three-mile run or my .hit-and-miss spelling, and I like the self underly-ing all ttiat. I approve of my gifts in ~the actual contexts of my living, both time and place. In particular; I approve the concrete qualities about myself and realities in my life over which I never did have ~ say, which began and perhaps remain outside my personal, free control. So I might have to approve of having Hispanic parents or growing up in Chicago or being male. Every one of us begins appropriate self-love .with this yes. Martin Luther King did not choose to have a minister for a father, or to grow up in the tradition of American black preaching. Geraldine Ferraro did ~122 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 not choose to be born a woman with a swift, articulate intelligence at a time when such a woman could be invited to enter public life. John F. Kennedy did not choose to be born Irish-American Catholic, of ambi-tious and effective parents. Each of these three faced a series of radical choices that added up to saying yes to their concrete gifts, Had King re-pudiated his tradition of preaching, he could have accomplished little. Had Ferraro feared her intelligence, she could not have made history. Had Kennedy ignored his parents, he might well have spent his life in a dinghy off Hyannis Port collecting sunburn. Certainly, he could not have been elected the first Catholic president. God creates and keeps creating each of us in this and that concre-teness, passionately loving us into this human limitation and that particu-lar share of his infinite self. Whai tasks fall to me, then? First of all, the task of loving myself. But if I love myself, then I love a concrete self, a self that God now creates and now loves into being as I am. Plainly, I cannot love what about me is unlovable--my sins and ugly failings. But neither can I allow my sins and failings to make me hate or even dis-like the self that commits them. (Parenthetically, within this discussion the distinction between love and like cannot separate what.is one thing, and covers a rotten lie.) For if I have learned anything at all from the Word of God, I have learned that God has chosen beforehand to love me, a sin-filled self. If I choose to despise and repudiate what God loves, do I not try to make myself better than God? To look at my own case, then, I had to approve of, appreciate, and grow to like an American born as the Great Depression began, of par-ents utterly impoverished by that cataclysm. I had to come to say yes to much else: male and first child; father a champion athlete and mother lu-minously religious; Southern boy and raised in New Orleans with its Mardi Gras mentality; Catholic and nephew of a Jesuit metaphysician. I had learned to hate "Japs" and to admire soldiers when only a child, and also to consider blacks lazy and Protestants strange. I grew in sex-ual orientation, too, before choosing, and in a hankering for books, in a home where mother and father remained lifelong lovers and all the adults were readers. Of course, I have made many choices that modify all that. But none of those choices was wise that did not begin where each of us must be-gin. First to say yes, I am a gift, and then to say yes in the concrete to each of the gifts that I am. Am I tall? Thank God I am tall. Am I short? That is my gift. If I am angry at standing short--at whom am I angry? Who keeps making me short? If I cannot believe that God wants me The Mirror in the Field / 823 short, then I have made my faith fall short, and I will have to believe in a mythical The Force or in Carl Sagan's demiurge, Chance. Again, am I very, very bright? Would I rather not be very, very bright, °and do I talk and act like a dolt to veil my brightness? Whom am I insulting then, but the One who keeps making me very, very bright? Tile most ba_sic truth emerges: In the most radical ways, I am not my own maker. I.~never was and am not now. We all know Isaiah 45:9: "Does the clay say to its fashioner, 'What are you making?' " But we tend to forget, deny, or repudiate the truth that we are still on the wheel and the Potter's hands are still shaping us. "Does the pot say to the pot-ter, 'You have no skill?' " Well, each of us, insofar as we do not say yes to the gifts that we have and are, are telling our Potter that he does not know what he is doing. We enact this repudiation in a number of ways, but we suffer one spiritual illness from the repudiation itself, no matter how we act it out. When any of us rejects God's passionate love, we diminish joy in our lives. Thomas Aquinas felt that anyone who rancorously repudiated God's concrete gifts in the self would lose all spiritual joy. For we do not make our joy; we find it. Joy is like the brilliance of the sun. I al-ways think of it as whet happens to a mirror when it faces towards the sun. SUddenly the sun's light fills the mirror and in instant consequences the mirror radiates abrilliance all around. In the same way, God's pas-sionate loving continually flows in us or we would not be, and the first consequence of saying yes to God's concrete gifting is radiant joy. How the Refusal Branches Out In this atmosphere of diminished joy, the radical failure or refusal to approve of my concrete gifts as comihg from God commonly gives rise to several gpiritual problems. How do I live if I do not feel that I have all that I need or really want? Or take a worse case: Suppose that I live afraid that I do not have the gifts I need, that I am spiritually in-adequate and just not "good enough." Or worst of all: Suppose that I am angry at life and~at God over concrete realities in my life. How would I show that? How would I live that out? I would suggest the following ways. Each way increases in intensity as a person goes from lack of trust in, to.fear of, and finally to disgust with his or her concrete gifts and self. First: laziness. Any of several causes may underlie a given person's laziness. But if people do not feel themselves worth much, or worthy of anything special, they might well act that out by doing little or nothing. Thus, if a high school girl acts lazy in algebra class, she almost certainly 824 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 believes that, being a girl, she could learn little"about it. And the sin-cere and hard-working parish priest who never gets to the prayer he truly would like to make almost surely feels unequal to the'requirements of prayer or unfit to profit from it. Lazy people accomplish nothing because they try nothing; and they try nothing because they. live' with the sense of having no adequate or relevant resources within themselves. Not~ here that some might appreciate tli~eir own personal gifts but think little of the good things of the earth or"Of human artifice. Some, for instffnce, do not see gifts in food and housing. They have all they need and want, but they take it'all for graiited, implicitly, declaring it slight and unimportant. Conseque'ntly, they simply do not feel the hu-man weight of the hunger and homelessness all around them. They are simply lazy in these matters of justice, and that laziness roots deeply in their despising the good things of the e~arth. Second: ineffectualness. If la~zy people attempt nb~t~ing, ineffectual people attempt things but accomplish nothing. They do n6t trust their own gifts enough to create, to produce, to bring forth. I kne~, an artist onEe, a~ European. 'ffho brought all kinds of material into his studio but put nothing out of it. He fooled around wit~ a~t I~ut 'made. little or ~oth-iflg. As it turned out, I~E lived ineffectuhl because he feared that his gifts as an artist had unbreakable ties'to his sexual orientation. He feared that being a successful artist would n.e~essarily'elicit~plJblicly his hcimosexu-ality, which he fehred and hated. More accurately, he hated himself for having homosexual feelings. After he came to live easy and chastely within his sexual orientation, he began producing the art work o~f which he had all alpng been ~capable. And most of us know devout Christians who get on.e spiritual book after another from thei~ Spiritual Book Club and never~ get beyond a. few pages in any of them. Many people ~dopt this way.0f living out their inadequate se!~f-lov~ or their self-loathing ineffectualness who~cannot be on time, or get an article,finished, or per-forum their jobs the way their talents and .intelligence pl~ainly allow. ,Third: negative self-image. So many suffer this~that it;can reason-ably be called the most common, psychological suffering in our culture. Sometimes it see~s as though the whole population were seeking help tow~ard self-affirmation in institutes, workshops, and popular paperback books with titles like Be Your Own Best Friend. Psychologists are be-ginning to see the roots of most addic.tions and compulsions in self-hatred. ~ Note carefully, however, that this psychological problem can and probably does mask a spiritual problem. Once I have outgrown my in- The Mirror in the Field fantile self-distrust or my adolescent self-loathing, and have come to an adult self-possession and self-approval, I am then free in facing ,relig-ious and spiritu~il reality. Can I--who have found it so easy to feel down on myself--give active approval to my whole history, to the life I now lead, and to myself as God has been and continues to shape me? Thus the problem of a negative self-image transmutes from a psychological problem to a spiritual problem. What do I personally believe about God's creating me? DQ.I feel hope about myself and abgut humankind even in the rush~and torrent of our limitations ands failures? Do I .like the person. God is making me? Can I rejoice in the personalities who burrow into my.eg .o:--or do I insist on more "impr~essivei' friends? Can I approve of and rejoice in those persons whom God has given me to live with and work with? and in "the vast throng of. people" on earth? Probably all of us know some psychologically balanced people who deliberately choose to dislike¢ reject, or despise their history, life, and self. I know'one woman who periodically feels the need to denounce in Savage terms the dedicated women who taught her in grade school. We all know ~men who consider their (quite ordinary and honorable) jobs a degradation. Some see flaws, in the self and vaguely dislike the whole self as a consequen6e--flaws as trivial as fat'hips or shyness or a quick lip. A woman blurted out recently, "I hate myself when I do that." The "that" was a genuinely trivial failing, but she spoke a weighty truth: She does indeed hate herself, and regularly takes the occasion of trivial failing to reassert her hatred. Some even see strengths in the self and hate the strengths and, in them, ,the self. I remember one man feeling,bad about himself becausehe, could "only run three miles a day," and he had passed fifty. The. truth.is that a "negative~seif-image" is one dis, guise that we borrow from our culture in Order to mask our distrust or disapproval of how and what.God is.~.creating us. It is a commonplace'.among us that most of. us find it hard to acknowl-edge our virtues and our strengths. We ,also find it easy to get depressed by our failings. I often.suggest for a period of prayer at the beginning of a retreat the exercise of going over'personal gifts of every .kind, pre-cisely to say yes to God creating me. I find the vast majority of re-treatants unable to stay with this exercise. Why is this? Are these lapses of appropriate self-love mere, ly "psychological" in the sense,that they function less than consciously in the personality? I believe that they are more than that. I believe that they grow from an ongoing option or deci-sion: "I am not much. I am not very good. ! am a nothing." This fun-damental option fractures or even ruptures a person's relationship with Review for Religious, November-December 1988 the self and with the Maker.of the self. It is an offense against, the love of God concretely burning in myself. The option can actually become a repudiation of that creating love. I am afraid it did in'the life of a ex-seminarian who had tried all the drugs and all the sex, and who con-cluded several hours of sharing with the despairing remark, "God made me a piece of junk." Fourth: bitterness and rancor. Some prideful and arrogant people lash out bitterly and destructively when they cannot impose their will on events. But others who live bitter and rancorous lives see everything from the underside. On their tongues every taste of life is bitter; in their eyes every living scene unfolds under a shadow. They aggressively scan events and people for material to "bitch" about. ThEy seem to live to heap up more and more evidence that the'ir world and everyone in it are no good. One ex-priest, for instance, offered to the president of his uni-versity this odd praise about a just-completed.building: "Even I can find nothing to complain about." That man had known for decades that he lived a bitter life, and all he would do about it was to wear a mask of sardonic drollery over his emptiness. His friends all connived in his bit-terness, too, laughing at his lunges and unable to name what made him so rancorous. Yet it was plain: he gave himself to disgust at God's lov-ing creating---of his own artistic gifts, of his self, of the motley collec-tion of men and women around him. A recovering alcoholic, a woman whose children have grown and gone, has decided to live without drink, but has also decided to live feel-ing cheated and shortchanged by her disease. She is what Alcoholics Anonymous calls a "dry alcoholic." She bitterly protests'that she can-not take a drink as can nonalcholics. She demands to be able to take a casual drink and hates that she cannot. Her conversation--on whatever topic--roils with rancor. She certainly does not say yes to a self troub-led by her disease. She plainly repudiates that part of herself and dark-ens her whole life with her refusals. But who creates her alcoholic genes? Who makes a gift of each day she lives? Whom does she offend by re-fusing to rejoice in each of her living days-.'? The bitter and rancorous may seem to hate everyone around them, and may indeed do so, But as "char-ity begins at home," so does hatred. Fifth: workaholism. A lot of holy people work Ioiag, hard days out of sense that their own time is precious and their own gifts needed by God's people. They work in inner freedom. A lot of others fling them-selves into some special work because they truly love and exult in what they are doing. But very many people work and work and work and do The Mirror in the Field / 827 nothing else. They cannot not work. Their work makes up their life and their self. They do not have the freedom to take true leisure--to enjoy, as we say very accurately, themselves. The truth is that they do not en-joy their selves. They do even not approve of themselves, except a little bit when they are exhausting themselves at work. Henri Nouwen tells of a priest who would not, could not, take time in his day to be still and pray and who finally came to admit why: "I am afraid of what I will find in myself." Precisely. Real workaholics fear their selves. They keep producing and producingbecause they do not really believe they are worth anything apart from what they produce. One religious who had badly burned her-self out in twelve years of administration asked, "What am I trying to prove?" She was trying to prove what she did not need to prove, but only to accept: "You are precious in my eyes, and I love you" (see Is 54). The mere attempt to prove that I am worthy of God's creating love stands in direct opposition to acknowledging that his love comes first and humbly acceptipg it. Three other ways that we live out inadequate self-love show up often enough to merit mention, and several minor ways can just be listed. Sixth: perfectionism. Some of us continually place impossibly high goals for ourselves, which "proves" how much we think of ourselves. Then, as a matter of course, we fail toreach those goals, and that "proves" that we are not really what we like to think we are but in fact ~ire not worth much. For the perfectionist, nothing ordinary serves; he or she needs to aim only for the perfect. As an instance: A truly fat man in the.South decided that a man like himself, ought to look like a Califor-nia beach boy. So he.set out to diet by eating only one thousand calories a day, a caloric intake unlikely even for a scarecrow. Within seventy-two hours he found himself back to eating a thousand calories before noon, and, of course, to this day he lumbers around no less large. He does, however, feel more convinced than ever that he is weakwilled and worthless. Why cannot this man simply eat more rationally? Many rea-sons operate, perhaps; but one leadifig reason is that he cannot see him-self simply as a normally rational person. He demands that his mind have despotic sway over his whole self and particularly over his appetite for food. He demands that the physical shape that would emerge from the fat resemble--not an ordinary, regular-sized American male moving to the downside of middle age--but a bronze statue of Hercules by Phidias. He will be perfect! The tr.uth is that with that demand he covers a fear that he can have no kind of reasonable sway over his self and his appe- Review for Religious, November-December 1988 tites. He hides that self-deprecating belief under a cover of perfection-ism. A lot of good,'praying people do the same. One mature and experi-enced nun who ha~l pray~ faithfrilly for years could not shake the feel-ing that'her prayer was "not very good." Her prayer was fine, in my opinioh; what needed spiritual insight and God's gracing was her demand that she pray like Teresa of Avila. This woman had not really been will-ing to approve wholeheartedly her own way of praying, and that unwill-ingness by itself had kept her off center and vaguely unhappy for years. Seventh: lust for experience. We need to note first that~today Ameri-cans place, tremendous trust ih our own experiences and feel keen dis-trust of any "truth" not-arrived at experientially. Further, we can be per-suaded rather readily to try anything, from a drink' or a drug to a new kind of prayer. We tend to subscribe to the pseudomoral dictum that, ~if you are able to, then yowought to expei'ience everything. We :are all in some measure like the'New York woman in analysis who reported her exhaustion to her doctor--too much sex, drugs, dancing, eating,° not enough sleep. The doctor asked her why she' did it,~and the woman bolted up and blurted out, "You mean I don't have to do everything I want to do?" She was in analysis because she was not doing what she wanted to do, but.,what her social group made her feel she ought to want to do. She felt ~compelled to experience whatever the group moved into. 'That compulsivity and obsessiveness grows out of an empty~ center. She did not really know what she, herself, wanted todo in,the depths of her.self; she feared the depths of her self. ~, Many of us give ourselves to experiences that diminish our human dignity or diminish our freedom, as~did the woman in analysis. I know. one couple whose children, now beginning to move into their own ca-reers, have. submitted to eve~ry kind of religious :experience, from CCD at home to charismatic~weekends and the permanent diaconate, because the parents hankered after spiritual"experience, not because the children required anything. Some Catholics roam from liturgy to liturgy,oseeking the ritual that,w.ill fill their "needs"~as though Sunday Mass does not rise out of fullness, 'bUt fills an emptiness. In them, actually, it is made to, occasionally and briefly. Eighth: inability to make commitments. Why have so many failed to make firm, long-range commitments? Among the many reasons, Cas-sian pointed out one very basic reason when he described the gyrovagus, the wandering monk who always came to feel that the'monastery over the next.~hill had a better religious life than the monastery he.live~t in. The Mirror in the Field / 829 So he wandered to the next and the next monastery, hoping to become a better monk. Fundamentally, the monk's problem lies not in his mon-astery; his problem lies in his own self. He does not like the monk he is. He does not approve of the monk he is. Or if he does, he does not want to grow into the man that this monastery, with these monks, at this time, will shape him into. So he moves on again and again, unable to make the crucial permanent commitment. A young Texan turned into a living gyrovagus when he went from a diocesan seminary to a congregation's novitiate to taking vows in an order and then to another diocesan seminary. His disapproval of the way he lived in those places seemed to be of those "monasteries"; actually, it reached deep into his own self. I would not expect ordination to fill his emptiness, and if he does accept ordination, his parishes (a succes-sion of them, surely) will have an impossible time making him under-stand that they appreciate him. Another example of the inability to make lasting commitments: A gifted psychological therapist changed cities several times and kept ac-quiring new skills. He even absorbed thorough training in spirituality and spiritual direction. When he was about thirty-five and weary of starting over again and again, he came to understand that he had never really felt the weight ,and value of his very considerable talents. As he let himself appreciate them withoutguilt, and particularly as he consciously built friendships with highly intelligent and success'ful peers, he felt more and more grateful for his own gifts and freer to rejoice in using them with-out having to feel that he was required to. He also felt himself more and more deeply committed--to his profession, to his faith, to his friends, and to the city where he had settled. Then there is the marriage commitment. We can leave aside cases of psychological dysfunctioning, like the California twenty-year-old who left his often drugged wife three months to the day after the church wed-ding, muttering that he had not known whom he was marrying. He had known, actually, and so had his friends and his parents. His actual spiri-tual problem had been that he had not known that he was punishing him-self by marrying her. Among the sane and whole, every spouse faces bone-deep challenges in living out the marriage commitment. For, once married, each feels invited to be a new person by union and communion with this special spouse who invites him or her. She will at times ask herself vehemently, "Why did I ever marry him?" At those times she will be feeling the stress of still becoming and changing in ways intimate to her marriage that she cannot control. She cannot design to make her Review for Religious, November-December 1988 spouse another person than he is, even though as he is he will give shape to herself. If she truly loves herself as a married woman, she will wel-come those new ways of becoming and growing along with him, saying her yes to her emerging self. In the same way, if a husband deeply ap-proves of himself as husband and likes the man who is this woman's hus-band, he will hardly insulate himself from the summons to grow and change that emanate from this woman as she lives and becomes, even though he has no mastery over the ways he feels summoned to grow and inexorably will at times keenly resent them. So monk and professional and married person all either say yes to an emerging self whose emergence none controls all alone, or say no. Our primordial task as creatures remains intact in and through all our free decisions: to praise God for what we are becoming, reverence his creat-ing, and serve him by following where the Spirit of Life leads us--in the concrete. To this list of eight larger flawed realizations of self-love, various writers add other specific ones. Cassian adds monkish indolence, acedia. St. Thomas adds garrulity, prying curiosity, and true malice. He also lists religious diffidence, which means the refusal to grow in the interior life. Could he speak right now, he might add integralism to that, because the rock-bound conservative often clings to externals like Latin rites or neoscholastic formulations to defend himself against a deep fear that his own faith-commitment and believing would not stand up to current chal-lenges. Some centuries later SCren Kierkegaard explored the "despair from weakness" of those who finally cannot let themselves trust the self that God is creating in them. In their turns, Josef Pieper dwells on one grave inability of those who do not approve of who God makes them to be: the inability to take true leisure. And Sebastian Moore shows that those who feel unlovable do not love anyone or anything very much. All their desiring is pallid, so consistently that he names their condition a spiritual disease: erosthenia, a flaccidity of passion. This makes an impressive list of spiritual problems: laziness, inef-fectualness, negative self-image, bitterness, workaholism, perfectionism, the insatiable lust for experience, the inability to make lasting commit-ments, and also acedia, garrulity, prying curiosity, malice, integralism, the despair of weakness, the inability to take leisure, and erosthenia. Plainly, they arise from many different life experiences and in varied life circumstances. Just as plainly, they have many causes and motivations. But in our own day and time, they all readily grow as it were in vitro, from a hollow self, flooded with the nourishing medium of pitiful self- The Mirror in the Field / 831 disapproval or arrogant self-hatred. This unwillingness to accept the self I am coming to be, which can ripen into a disgust with who I am and even a resentful hatred of myself, very possibly makes up the deepest root of sin in our day and time. The Wholehearted Life In the face of such a list of spiritual problems, any talk about solu-tions would show extravagant optimism. Fortunately, I am not discuss-ing here the solutions of many problems, but the escape from or avoid-ance of a single problem: the radical spiritual one of refusing to accept, in concrete particulars, whom God is making me. But even then I intend not to list all the saving activities we might throw ourselves into to solve that single problem, because that would tend to confirm the very mis-taken conviction that underlies the problem, that our own activity comes first in our salvation. Instead, in this last section, I will sketch briefly and from living mod-els how those people live who are very successfully avoiding or escap-ing this foundational problem. I experience them as, and name them, wholehearted. Not that their hearts beat totally integral and without the murmur of human flaws and failings. Rather, they live out of their whole hearts--their selves--just as they find them in this minute. The whole-hearted might twang like an old player piano, but with every note and chord they give God and the world around them all the music they can pour out. I will speak first about the inner life of the wholehearted and then about its external manifestations. What goes on in their spirit from day to day? First, they say yes to this day, to the gift of it and the gifts in it. They not only "live in the present moment"; they approve of the present moment as of a gift. And in that yes they are approving of their personal history and the life they now lead. More, they choose to live glad to be what they now are and to be doing what they are doing (unless, of course, they have come to a time of decision, which they will perceive more as opportunity than as termination). When they think larger, they do not feel guilty about the plenty and the privilege in which they live. To start, they feel grateful for the earth, and for humankind, and for the universe. They feel desires of many kinds, some of them strong. Among them all, they try to keep their de-sire for God in Christ in first place. For the rest of their desires, they take responsibility as well as they can, enacting those they think authentic Review for Religious, November-December 1988 with courage and with equal courage suppressing those they recognize as drawn from unworthy sources (the Spirit of Darkness or of unruly flesh). In all desiring, what they want keeps them connected with the peo-ple around them and in some appropriate measure with current, affairs~ All in all, their desiring shapes up into a great desire to make things all right for the world and for every single person now in it; but their hop-ing does not depend on immediate success in the eriterprise. The wholehearted live in appropriate autonomy. As teenagers, for in-stance, still coming to be individuals they depend heavily on peer'opin-ion. As young adults, vindicating their uniqueness; they live carefully independent of "popular opinion;" particularly about the moral cruxes in interpersonal relations. As spouses, they give and take in thorough in-terdependence. All along, precisely because they like themselves, they are able to stabilize affective relationships. This liking of themselves gives rise in them to what is sometimes called a'democratic personality structure. Negatively, this means that their personality is not bound down by one need or drive or ideology. The spiritually wholehearted are not broadly compulsive; on the con-trary, they live and move in relative interior freedom. I do not mean that they never have some dominant desire or great enterprise in their lives. Some live outof a profound, specific desire. Neither do I mean that the wholehearted do not sin, ev.en seriously. I have known some who did. They sinned wholeheartedly, and if they repented, they repented whole-heartedly-- hating rather the thing they did than the one who did it. A married man high in a bloated corporation gave himself a year or two of lascivious fornication. When he heard the Spirit (his words) summon him back, he submitted himself to astonishing inconveniences and physi-cal discomforts suggested to him as (a long) penance. Put positively, all of the wholehearted can hold some priority and or-dering in what they want to get accomplished, gladly getting at one goal while postponing others without guilt. They can also respond readily to surprise demands, able to set aside their own agenda when they see that as appropriate and not feeling put upon about it. We need to take care here. In my experience, some of us suffer from one or other addiction or compulsion (neatnik, chocolate maniac, or some less acceptable culturally) and yet live truly wholehearted lives. This is a mystery to me, that we can find ourselves broken and power-less to heal the break and yet lead wonderfully wholehearted lives. I take this as truly suffering from the Original Sin and from all those sins vis-ited .upon us without our approval or connivance, or with our forced co- The Mirror in the Field / 833 operation, by alcoholic parents, sexually addicted elders, neurotic supe-riors, viciously selfish peers, and on and on. Somehow we are sum-moned within the pockmarked life that all of us lead to give our yes to God's passionate loving in us. I do not see that holiness is wholeness. Most of us find ourselves with neuroses, mild or severe, temporary or lifelong. If we can, for all that, love what we find and the One who is making it, then we have begun to live holy lives. There is much more to this, but we cannot ignore addictions and com-pulsions and the yes that those of us who suffer them must say to the self that God is making us. For very many of us find ourselves in this excru-ciating condition. All of us need to remember that at the core of every addicted and every compulsive self--the phobic, the masturbator, the child-beater, even the rapist--the passionate loving of God burns on crea-tively. But each of them stands on the brink of an apparently impassable chasm. For no one can be in touch with that creating love who does not love the self within whom it burns, and such a staggering number of us are taught, subtly.and powerfully and with enormous precision, to dis-like or to hate ourselves. The fact is, social psychologists are beginning to discover, addictions and compulsions normally grow out of an inade-quate appreciation of the self or out of self-hatred. Then how are com~ pulsive people or addicts to think of this? The way all of us think: As I say my yes to God's creating love, I will know that I am humbly truth-ful and wholehearted when I rejoice even while I suffer what I am and what is. I am heroically wholehearted when I can set aside any demand on my self that I myself or any other persons or things be as I think they "ought" to be and can take all as I find it. We all do what Paul did af-ter he had prayed three times and the thorn still rankled. The thorn just kept rankling, and Paul just kept on sinning (by his own testimony); but we have no evidence that he got down on himself for that or any other reason. Paul certainly knew his worth, and that is a great, great virtue. This brings me, second, to the ways a wholehearted yes to the Lord manifests itself externally. The first sign is joy. Let the light bulb accept electric current. In-stantly it is full of light and instantly it radiates that light to all around. In just that way, the wholehearted radiate joy. Even when they find in-justice and disorder, they are filled rather with a sorrow that leads to com-passion that leads to action--than with a sadness that leads to pity that leads to self-absorption. This joy gives the wholehearted a definite, in-viting presence. They like who they are and therefore feel no need to hide or wear masks. They are simply present, shyly if they are shy, brightly Review for Religious, November-December 1988 if they are bright, brashly if they are young enough. Moreover, the wholehearted live an effective life, by which I mean they make things happen. They live content that God is giving them this or that job or task to do, and simply do it. And at the same time, the wholehearted usually have a lively sense of duty and of obligation. They seem to trust their own consciences, and they clearly trust that God is ordering all things sweetly from end to end. So the wholehearted tend to rejoice that they are required to do something or to omit something. They do not have time to regret what they might miss; they are too busy enjoying what they hit upon. Their attitude toward authority shows itself wholehearted, too. Here is a hugely complex business, but let me just say that any who like who they are and what God is making of the world really perceive the work-ing of authority in the world and actually accept the consequences into themselves. They feel the pull of authority where it actually appears, let-ting it instruct their understanding and warm their motivation. They also sense its absence even when someone is throwing his weight around, and if they conform when pressed by raw power, they do it while maintain-ing their sense of self-worth. As the wholehearted grow more and more mature, they can calibrate more and more subtly the weight of authority and their own response to it. I could list a number of other external signs of a wholehearted yes to God's passionate loving. The wholehearted, for instance, show a true love for creation and prefer to honor their environment. The whole-hearted seem able to show benevolence all around, not threatened by the rich or pressured by the poor, gracious to the bright and to the doltish. They tend to learn compassion early in their lives, and empathy, too. They approve of their culture even while rejecting values in it that con-tradict their own. Speaking of Americans, they live very grateful to be called to life in a rich, free, exuberantly creative land, and they show their gratitude not by badmouthing the nation, but by doing what they can to leave it somewhat better than they found it. But let me end by pointing out a nearly infallible sign of a whole-hearted yes to God's creating love: the wholehearted can take true lei-sure. What is true leisure? I find the experts--Karl Rahner and Josef Pieper, for instance--hard-pressed to define leisure, but they are clear that people at leisure are out from under production goals and rigid work-schedules and that whatever activities they might engage in do not pro-duce food and clothing and other things necessary to human life. Nei-ther do those at true leisure lie in passive numbness, their imaginations The Mirror in the Field / 835 blank and their energies depleted. Rather, they typically play or muse or commune with friends or create. In general, leisure means the free en-actment of our whole humanness simply out of joy that we live--in this or that way, here, in this place, among these folk. We take leisure while all our regular tasks wait to be looked after, feeling sure that One watches while we let them go. We evoke leisure, not theoretically, but from the concrete gifts we choose to act grateful for, sensed as rising from the pas-sionate original gift of God's creating love. Those who pray and wor-ship God take the truest of true leisure. The Last Reflection And those who have thought these thoughts about inappropriate self-loathing and appropriate self-love, and felt all these convictions about saying yes to God's creative love burning in the core of their life and their self, have given themselves to true leisure. In the measure that they feel consoled by them, and in the measure that they feel joy rising through them, they are giving themselves wholeheartedly to the passion-ate love of God burning in the center of their selves. They are mirroring back to him the blazing love he radiates to them and in them. They are becoming the mirror in the field. Standing on a Wooden Bridge It creaks now more than it used to . seems I left myself standing here only to meet me farther on here. The swirling water carries my frail leaf far beyond the viewing point. Refulgent water, flow me forth unto the Son! Barbara Ann Opfer 2027 Campbell, B-8 Sandusky, Ohio 44870 The Addicted/Dependent Minister Thomas D. Noesen, O.P. Father Noesen was a diocesan priest for eleven years before entering the Order of Preachers. He may be addressed at Aquinas Institute; 3642 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. "that our affections kill us not--nor dye" (John Donne) It is no secret that stress and burnout are high among professional minis-ters. Priests, religious, and lay professionals need at times to get out of ministry for their own well-being and to get in touch with their own de-pendencies. Priests are in the top listings of professionals with alcoholic addiction. The present-day minister struggles with human dependencies and addictions which bring persons to a dysfunctional level of service. Henri Nouwen says that we are wounded healers and that sometimes the minister is more wounded than healer. "Physician, heal thyself" is whis-pered by some of the confused congregation, but greater numbers in the assembly empathize with a more human condition. Men and women are getting professional help in residential treatment centers, private coun-seling, and support groups. Dependency and addiction are commonplace for today's ministers. C. S. Lewis in his book The Four Loves says that the problem with ministers is that they treat the people they minister to as "other." This failure is making ministry less workable. The minis-ter need not be a barefoot cobbler. This paper will look at addictions and the minister. (In this text I use the words dependency and addiction interchangeably; this will become more obvious to the reader as the behavioral dynamics are explored.) Granted that we are part of an addiction culture, the minister falls prey to it more often. The men and women in ministry are people-oriented per-sons; some of the most perceptive and insightful members of the popu- 836 The Addicted/Dependent Minister lation are in ministry: They are insightful and perceptive not only of oth-ers and themselves but of life itself. This latter visionary quality can cause much anxiety and insecurity. The primal angst of life's meaning can bring great stress to the ministry professions. Teaching and preach-' ing daily, these people live what many people would only think of at times of birth, death, or personal crisis. This type of stress and iniensity makes ministers prime targets of addiction. The minister is granted trust by many to know their secrets, deepest feelings, and hidden thoughts. Because of intirfi~acy, the minister carries the confidences of hundreds all at one time. It is rather easy for the minister to meet the needs of the oth-ers and to neglect his or her own. Ministers can become victims to their own intensities. Four terms are used in this paper talking of addiction. They are in-dependent, dependent, codependent, and interdependent. Independency and codependency are both unhealthy. The reader needs to know that any-one can be part of all four at once. The healthiest movement is always toward chosen dependency and interdependency. Codependency Many times the minister comes from a codependent background and unknowingly continues the dynamics in ministry. Adult children of al-coholics are common codependents. The traits of codependents are closely connected with the minister. The codependent is: I. usually a very good person, valuable to society, and often ends up in the helping professions. (One study shows 83% of nurses were from alcoholic homes and the oldest children.) Codependents are nice and likeable people. 2. a victim of low self-esteem and self-worth and makes himself or herself indispensable to others. (In counseling, the codependent coun-selor gets angry at the dependent spouse rescuing the addicted spouse. That adds up to three dysfunctional addicts--thi~ two spouses and the counselor.) 3. a good sufferer. These people make "good" Christians, martyrs, and so forth. The unspoken script of the codependent is "I'm good be-cause I suffer so much." 4. the first to volunteer; always wanting (actually needing) to be of service; always wanting it to be noticed that they are exhausted. 5. selfless to the point of hurting himself or herself. Psychosomatic illness is common in the codepeqdent. Life becomes a pain in the anat-omy. There is a need for aspirin, Bufferin, Preparation H, and so forth, in the beginning, and it can build to major medical care over years. Review for Religious, November-December 1988 Thes-~'five points can define a messiah complex in a nonreligious ter-minology. A codependent is anyone out of a dysfunctional home; so this term codependent is generic: an embarrassing spouse, children, extended-family members. Codependency even links emotional disabilities to un-known ancestors. So what is the codependent's payoff? The people with whom the codependent interacts become dependent on the codependent; this way the codependent feels needed. Naming the Addictions/Dependencies Since ministers teach the gospel statement that the ff~uth will set one free, denial of addictions should have little space to survive. But nam-ing, claiming, and taming dependencies is very difficult because the de-pendencies are cunning, baffling, and powerful. There are two types of addictions: substance addiction and process addiction. Substance addic-tion is an element that can be and should be totally removed. Process ad-diction is something that will always be present, but needs to be lived with constructively and not destructively. This latter addiction is the thorn in the side of most ministers. Addiction is an exaggerated pattern. Rigorous honesty is the key in reading the following lists. Twelve-step programs use the rigorous-honesty term, and this honesty often needs to come from outside the de-pendent. Until honesty is present, the dependent is a victim. Some common substance addictions/dependencies are: alcohol / sex (cas-ual or recreational) / caffeine / chocolate / nicotine / cocaine/heroin / refined sugar / gambling / marijuana / counter drugs / prescription drugs. Some common process addictions/dependencies are: work or busy-ness / sex (casual or recreational) / negative memories / "prayer" and worry / eating disorders (boulimia, anorexia, compulsive overeating) / religious fanaticism / sports (spectator or participant)/"collecting" de-pendent people / exclusive friendships/the Peter Pan syndrome / the Wendy complex / exercise /reading / attention-rejection-exhaustion / greed (compulsive spending) / control-powe'r~manipulation / success-failure- competition / TV ! sleep / anger-guilt-depression / self-pity and co-pity / anger-denial-control. Ministers are often addicted to ministry itself because they are so needed. To be human is to be dependent, but there is a healthy balance which ministers have an obligation to discern. All helping professionals have a responsibility to get their good feelings somewhere other than their clients. Ministers must know their dependencies well in order to min-ister effectively. It is so easy for ministers to project what they them-selves need onto someone else. Really soon--because of the ministers' The Addicted/Dependent Minister addiction bent--feelings get very muddled and quality ministry is endan-gered. Ministers are constantly dealing with others' feelings and can stuff their own. These stuffed feelings can come out as body illness or inap-propriately elsewhere. For example, for ministers to get charged up in anger with the clie ~nt, or with the client's oppressor, or the client's anger at the Church, or the client's anger at government, and so forth, is eas-ier for them than claiming their own inner anger, guilt, or whatever. Granted that these feelings of the client may be very real, still the "dance" of the dependent minister may be to a different tune than the client is trying to play. It is as if one is fox-trotting and the other is do-ing the waltz. Choosing Our Addictions/Dependencies Dependencies are a given to our human condition. Ministers should be model addicts by example; this is where the newer holistic spiritual-ity models can be most helpful. Ministers need to choose daily, healthy dependencies. To list a few: time alone, prayer, reflection, physical ex-ercise, support groups, non-ministry-oriented hobbies and/or friends, and nonprofessional reading. Healthy ministers continually expand and deepen throughout life--this is an integrating process. Unhealthy minis-ters fragment and splinter themselves to meet their needs of dependency and take a flock of disciples along. Healthy ministers need both to mas-ter and be mastered; unhealthy ministers either master totally or become totally mastered. Remember, extremes mark the unhealthy dependent per-sonality. Often unhealthy ministers want to be appreciated (needed) for their wealth of knowledge, fund raising, generosity, cleverness, organiza-tional skills, virtue, leadership, and so forth. None of these qualities can be considered intrinsically wrong, but the ministers' control of them can take away even God's freedom of their use. This is not to say that good is not accomplished by addi~:tive ministers; it is. The problem usually is the unhappiness of the ministers and not always the results of their min-istry. In our Church many of the most rewarded ministers are the most unhe~ilthy addicts. The Codependent Cast of Characters The alcoholic home has taught us much about unhealthy dependen-cies and the roles the members fall into. The minister may often come from a dysfunctional home that is not necessarily alcoholic. The family characters are listed in their usual order. Often the minister is one or 1140 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 more of these characters. Maybe the minister played out one role as a child, a different one as an adult, and maybe even a different role in his/ her professional life. When there is a dependency in a home, the whole family system is dysfunctional. No one escapes and everyone is affected. Those various persons may be described as follows: The dependent(usually a spouse) is the one using the substance around which the whole family unit rearranges itself. The family's individual needs and feelings are not met because of°denial, guilt, and anger. The enabler (usually a spouse) feels responsible for everyone's feel-ings. The enabler usually tries to keep peace, save face, and guard the family secret. The enabler makes ends meet financially and emotionally. The enabler needs to control and needs to be needed. This person thrives on exhaustion. The hero (usually the oldest) tries to keep the family secret by look-ing good at school, work, and so forth. This can be in sports, honor so-cieties, and so forth. The hero is organized, responsibl~, and mature to extremes. The hero is a doer-~cannot stop doing. The hero suffers from fear, loneliness, and stifled anger. The scapegoat (often the second child) is prickly and hard to get along with; he or she appears to be the family problem. The scapegoat often chooses wild friends, gets pregnant in teen years, breaks the law, and gets into substance addiction. Traits of the scapegoat are very diffi-cult and frequently impossible to understand. The lost child (usually the third in birth) often uses isolation for self-protection; lives in fantasy, quietness, and distance; wants to please at all costs; tries to be good but feels bad; has no opinions or feelings to speak of; never causes problems. The mascot (often the youngest) laughs on the outside and cries on the inside; is clumsy, whimsical, and so forth, while trying to focus off the substance; is the clown trying to make the sad family better. This person is hyper, but lonely and scared. He or she is the family medicine man. As ministers try to bring care to a family, the trap may snap and they can easily be caught and overwhelmed. Ministers must therefore have some knowledge of basic dependency dynamics, but, more than that, they should have a keen awareness of their own inner feelings and de-pendencies. They must know their own limitations and be able to say no and to judge when to refer clients. At such times they minister to them-selves. If they do not take care to function at their best, they will be caught in self-pity and/or co-pity games. The minister may say "this whole thing is absurd," "too much The Addicted/Dependent Minister / ~141 analysis," "my past is my past," and so forth. Perhaps the minister is clean and emotionally balanced; that does not mean the parish staff, re-ligious community, and/or office staff share that same wellness. Today more and more ministers are looking hard and long before taking a posi-tion. By the same norms, the employing staffs are screening more be-fore hiring. Many parish staffs are dysfunctional because they are clos-eting one or more unhealthy dependencies. Clinebell (Pastoral Care and Counseling) says that "spiritual vitality and health are contagious; it is caught more than it is taught." Ministers look more and more for an en-vironment of wellness if they themselves are well. The Rocking-Chair Minister Rocking-chair ministers are not on the porch waiting for someone to come and seek help; on the contrary, they are twice as busy as other min-isters trying to get the gospel spread. "Rocking chair' '--because interi-orly they go back and forth like a rocking chair; their feelings and ac-tions are all fuzzy and confused. Nevertheless, they are sometimes bla-tantly forceful people. There are several cycles of feelings and behavior that dovetail together. The following are some specifics of the "proc-ess addiction" mentioned above: Unhealthy Process Healthy Process worry/' 'prayer" anger/guilt/depression attention/rejection/ exhaustion anger/denial/control self-pity/co-pity affirmation/ownership/ integration/letting go anger/ownership/expres-sion/ letting go control/ministry assess-ment/ service/letting go delegation saying no In the following stories, theologies or ministry models vary. But that is not the issue. The issue is the ministers' inner world; that is, the min-isters are not ministering to themselves even though, otherwise, they are very effective ministers. Story A Father Jones worries about his people because they are so poor. They are doing better than they were before he came, and many of them tell him how much they appreciate his concern. He prays that God take care of this poverty and abolish it. Soon he finds himself an-gry at God for not curing the problem, angry at the insensitive bishop and at those in their posh offices for not prioritizing this; he is angry at 1142 / Review for Religious; November-December 1988 the richer members of the parish because they are not removing the pov-erty from their own parish. Burdened with guilt for attacking God, the Church, and his parishioners, Father Jones turns inward; depression and dullness set in and the cycle begins all over again. Father Jones is from a good small-business family that has been reputable in the community for generations. The cycle here is worry, prayer, anger, guilt, depres-sion. Story B Millie is in social-outreach ministry. She started a parish pro-gram and became deanery coordinator in this same area. Now she has founded the diocesan office for reaching out to teenage single mothers, runaways, and abused children. She holds a high profile with the me-dia. It gets money for the project. She loves the attention and limelight, and she feels it is all for Jesus. When given Church honors and civic ac-claim, she rejects it all. Miilie is torn inside between wanting to be no-ticed and disowning the recognition. She has been taking medicine for what her doctor calls exhaustion. Millie has tried to explain to her doc-tor that he is indispensable at this time; she will back off later when the time is right, Millie's dad was an alcoholic, but he has been sober since she was in the first grade. The unhealthy cycle here is attention, rejec-tion, and exhaustion. Story C Tyler is one of those rare, always smiling ministers who do very well with youth. One of his personal goals for youth is sacred space. In both parishes where he has been, he had small, multipurpose rooms that served for recreation and worship space. In the one parish there was a room with a large wooden carved crucifix before the youth took it over; in the other parish, a family had donated a large crucifix in memory of their daughter, killed in a summer outing. In both places Tyler went rounds over the crucifix issue. Always pleasant, he demanded a risen Christ figure. He said we are about resurrection and not all tfiis pain. "I believe it is Easter we are to remember; let's not make our kids hold on to Good Friday." Tyler escalated these issues to maximum polarization; the people became divided. Tyler had theologized his anger, stuffing it away, and used Christ to deny it; using his charism and position, he con-trolled the environment and won out. Tyler had been adopted at two months of age. His birth mother had neglected and abused him. He was raised in a healthy (functional) family since three months of age. Story D Deacon Bernard loves to minister. He would be a priest, but he wanted a wife and family and left seminary in college. Bernard is very well liked by the people because he is so filled with empathy. Recently he has had several counseling sessions with Phyllis. At twen(y-five years The Addicted/Dependent Minister of age, Phyllis has finished two M.A. degrees--one in counseling and the other in theology. Phyllis is very angry with the Church about not being able to be a priest. During many sessions she has talked about how victimized she felt. Bernard shares her feelings; he has felt put off by the Church because he got married. Being ordained a deacon is okay, but he feels victimized also. Bernard and Phyllis are now in their sixth session. In counseling they talk about equal amounts of time on their feel-ings toward the Church. They both agree worship has become harder and harder. They feel they have been good for each other because they share so many of the same hurts. Bernard's homelife is healthy and functional; Phyllis is from a gifted and wealthy family that seems equally healthy. The cycle here is one of self-pity/co-pity. The theologies in these stories are issues, but not as much as the pain and hell these ministers are causing to others. The rocking-chair process addiction is not a matter of standing still; though moving, it is going no-where. All these ministers are gifted and likeable people. These depend-ency stories are more subtle than that of the staggering drunk pastor or the power-hungry director of religious education, but their subtlety serves as a reflection on the movement out of addiction/dependent be-havior. These stories show some common process dependencies, but there are many more. The addict wants to be happy and unconsciously creates a world of "happiness" in which to survive. There are dependency proc-esses not mentioned here peculiar to perhaps one person. The choices and combinations of dependencies are nearly infinite. Ministers are always in need of insight into themselves lest they run the risk of projecting their feelings and dependencies on the client. Minister on the Mend Ministers need to choose not rocking-chair but journey addictions. As they learn from and depend on healthy processes, they become peace-ful within and freer to hear the true struggles of Jesus. The healthy proc-esses that are most easily seen are to say no and to delegate. Both re-quire much tact and articulation if everyone is to remain free. Sometimes the ministry can more easily be done alone; often other factors enter-- such as community, collaboration, and identity--which should be con-sidered and pondered. In any case, ministry always means community. Three more models are listed earlier under the Healthy Process column. Each of these ends in letting go. A common slogan in twelve-step programs is "Let go--let God." Any healthy process will end in letting go. Jesus is clearly the model 844 / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 here. To let go (presuming the preceding steps are gone through), much reflection and healthy prayer time is needed. Ministers need time to di-gest each experience. This includes some time alone and some quality dialogue with what is commonly called theological reflection. A good minister has the ability to stand still. The old statement that moved many a minister was "an idle mind is the devil's workshop." Well, the same idle mind is also God's workshop. Each minister holds the key to the workshop door. When one's whole being is idle, the minister is able to again open himself or herself to caring for others. This means that the minister is caring for himself or herself as the first one to be ministered to. Jesus the Dependent? Jesus was human like us in all ways but sin; yet he was dependent on a home for being raised, dependent on scrolls and on people for his learning, and dependent on the elements of survival like food, warmth, sleep, and friendship. The desert fast was Jesus pulling away from food and people to experience more. Jesus was definitely dependent on the human condition. "He emptied himself" as Philippians says; and yet, without abandoning his divinity, Jesus became enslaved to our human condition of dependency. He became all those things that take each of us to the threshold of addiction and dependency. Jesus became fear, doubt, loneliness, anxiety, and anger. These are not sins but feelings. It is in feelings that one touches the threshold of dependency. Jesus con-tinually emptying himself is the movement from addiction. He did not fill himself with any substance to extreme. Jesus chose his dependencies. From the gospels those chosen dependencies seem to be friendship, the (Jewish) word of God, prayer, and telling the story (parable) plus living the story. So Jesus' dependencies are on a deeply human level but always more. Jesus was empowered with the Spirit and worked miracles of heal-ing, but still had to experience emotional suffering and ultimately death. The addiction of power and control Jesus declined over and over. He did not want to be a king, a religious leader, or a political leader. He emp-tied himself; addicts try to fill themselves. Jesus holistically emptied him-self. Flesh and bones like us, he did not even overly depend on his hu-manity. He lived and believed in his human condition and more, Jesus has the same faith in us for he was one like us. Jesus was dependent on "one day at a time." This was living the model of the Father; for him being open and dependent upon the Father became a daily reality. The "daily bread" Jesus talks of is the daily por- The Addicted/Dependent Minister tion of human and divine needs. Childlike Jesus was dependent on the human condition. True addicts/dependents become blind and their world gets ever smaller. Jesus is not blind but tries to ever open us to the larger world that he called the "reign of God." Jesus is the model for the ad-dict in the way he lived the serenity prayer: "God, grant me the seren-ity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Three Areas of Interdependence for the Minister 1. The minister in a support system A support system means to have a world of peers. Being able to talk honestly and needfully, the minister opens up, allowing himself or her-self to be the recipient of ministry. Ministry by its nature is a parent role. Therefore to be able to step out of that role into a peer relationship is crucial for wellness. To seek support ministers cannot deny or toy with their dependen-cies. They need to be able to say "I need," "I hurt," "I'm angry," and so forth. Even though these "confessions" need be made at times with clients, here it is a perspective of care for the minister. Here minis-ters make their addictions known in trust. Unhealthily dependent persons function under three unwritten rules: (1) Do not talk about the depend-ency; (2) do not trust anyone because in the long run they will hurt you; and (3) do not feel because feelings can only cause trouble or pain. With such a support system, ministers can appear arrogant or even pious. In a support system that offers freedom to talk and an environment of trust for articulation of feelings, ministers minister to themselves. Any aloof-ness starts to subside in the therapy of the support system. This is a form of interdependence. Interdependence is very difficult to accomplish because it must be scheduled on a regular basis and it must seek a quality rapport with one or more persons. So many relationships (addictions/dependencies) are codependent: "You fix me and I'll fix you." In interdependence the de-pendent lives "rent free" (as AA says) of guilt, manipulation, and shame. Once the dependency is named and claimed, some of the twelve-step programs might be appropriate. Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), nar-cotics anonymous (NA), sexaholics anonymous (SA), and adult children of alcoholics (ACOA) are support groups that meet regularly and are very good. For ministers with any of these addictions, weekly contact with the relevant group would be appropriate. Meeting less often than this is Review for Religious, November-December 1988 a form of denial to a given addiction. Other support systems like clinical counseling might be in order. See-ing a counselor can help one to look at addictive behavior. Again, a weekly meeting would be appropriate for the same reasons of denial. A spiritual director can also be helpful. It is important that the spiritual di-rector also be in spiritual direction. For the minister to ask for direction would be most helpful. If the spiritual director is not in direction, he or she is probably not conscious of personal dependencies in process ad-diction. Diocesan priests can have a support system in "Jesu Caritas" or "Emmaus" groups. The interdependence support area affords intimacy that is construc-tive and articulate. There must be a constant (weekly) point where min-isters are vulnerable, candid, and open. Ministers need intimacy more than most people; they need to have their own needs met. The more pas-toral responsibilities they have, the more difficult will be the problem of a support system that will work. Not finding such a system drives one right back into unhealthy dependency/addiction. This support system pre-sumes skills of great openness, and it demands qualified supporters who are themselves in touch with their own dependencies. God will be part of this because "where two or more are gathered, I am there"; this gath-ering of support will be the human condition laid open, and this sharing leads to the divine. Christianity itself is a support system not in theory only but in expe-rienced reality. To be Christian is to be community. Ministers model Christian living at its best as they acquire ministry to themselves. There will need to be many subcommunities like support groups within the sup-port system. For example, the substance-abuse minister may be in a "non-Christian" twelve-step program; still, the very dynamic is intrin-sically Christian by the fruits that are produced. The support system keeps (or even makes) the minister docile. Our Christian model of support is that the Master is always with us; no disci-ple ever becomes the master in Christianity. Christians are dependent on the Master. The minister lives this posture of the support system with a life of prayer. Prayer must be meditative and routine. Prayer must be daily. The minister will address Christ with "now I feel . . ." and be naked of all dependencies in his presence. 2. The Minister Using Humor as Healing Somewhere in the ritual of each day, the call to play must come. Just as "Let us pray" is ritualized, so must "let us play" be said and done. Ministers take themselves too seriously. To have a sense of humor is to The Addicted/Dependent Minister / 1~47 have a sense of healing. For some a sense of humor can get rough, laugh-ing at another's expense. Even if someone encourages being laughed at, discernment of the healing or hurting nature of humor is needed. Not all humor is healing. The virtue that comes with levity is gentleness. If ministers can laugh at themselves in a gentle and affectionate way, the humor is healing. So often caught in addiction/dependency, ministers may smile at their short-comings and say to themselves, "I'm not a saint yet," and move on with life. Humor does not mean telling jokes or developing talks (homilies) that are funny or entertaining. Humor simply brings us to reality away from our world of illusion. Substance and process addictions do produce a world of illusion. Just watching TV commercials shows us illusions, humor, and addiction. The problem with much in the media is that truth is not the main product being sold. Humor has truth at its core, and per-haps an exaggeration of that truth in humor can make a point of healing. An example of this might be telling a workaholic who is exhausted that you see no reason for him to sleep tonight: "I don't know why you can't work all night writing a major address for that group--you'd do it better than anyone else." Humor brings us to gentleness and reality; another quality is that of forgiveness. Sometimes in the healing of humor more forgiveness can take place than in more formal settings. A wink or kind facial expres-sion can be the forgiving gesture of gentleness that a given moment may need. Humor is a way of recycling the minister in a very healthy way. 3. The Minister and a Sense of Adventure This need of interdependence is seen more readily in retired minis-ters, but it needs to be present all along the journey of development. Min-isters in retirement can be the personifie~ wisdom of God even (or espe-cially) in their decrepit physical condition, or they can be Scrooge-like "humbug" people holding tightly to the past. The sense of adventure always is looking at the present and the future. Ministers can feel that "they owe me after all that I've done for them." Addicted ministers often will want to cause their own early retirement (or death). In aged ministers it is still the world of extremes if addiction is present. In a sense of adventure there is a sense of tomorrow. Ever changing by an open-ness to grace, ministers can keep looking forward to more in their life. The life of unhealthy addiction/dependency always seduces one to be-come fixated. In the interdependence of adventure, ministers respond to and embrace the limited world of themselves and the limited world of their environment. Using personal creativity, ministers can become eter- 1~41~ / Review for Religious, November-December 1988 nal students of life itself. Healthy ministers can be recognized here, with their level of interests always expanding. Self-improvement and educa-tion become an ever present sense of direction for them. They have a zest for life and a loving interest in others. Unhealthy ministers often scorn and condemn the life they see in healthy ministers. This can manifest it-self in competition or gossip or both. Ministers often live in their own professional world, a world no larger than the client's care and working for the community. "All work and no play makes John a dull boy." John is not only a dull minister but an addicted minister. There is a flatness and pity that emerge when the sense of adventure is not maintained on a regular level. Some say that a minister should always be reading a secular novel (and that does not necessarily mean of the Andrew Greeley variety). Friends and hobbies that have nothing to do with religion are excellent for the minister. The priests' poker club does not meet this need because "business" will al-ways creep into the conversation. Ministers can feel lost when not known in some place for who they are or what they are--this is a good chal-lenge to the minister. Ministers who are able to change through self-experimentation, self-denial, and self-ministry will find themselves flex-ible enough to grow in wisdom, age, and grace to the very point of death. Conclusion St. Augustine tells us that we are restless until we rest in God. There are many resting places on the journey of the minister that are anything but peaceful; these rest stops are often addictions. Satiated, confused, and disoriented, the minister quickly becomes less a minister than he or she would wish to be. These pages have looked at some cultural handi-caps in order to help ministers to be more free of them. Ministers living their faith are likely to feel some anxiety and insecurity. In a highly pos-session- oriented society that measures life by production and consump-tion, ministers become models of freedom by living a simple, unattached lifestyle. The "product" is freedom in Jesus himself. Thus, even though most ministers are addicted, they have a world of choice in their depend-encies. Those choices determine their personal happiness and effective-ness. Communal Spiritual Consolation John English, S.J. Many of our readers know at least some of Father English's writings on spirituality. In this article he discusses the significance of communal spiritual consolation for com-munal spirituality. He may be addressed at Ignatius College; P.O. Box 1238; Guelph, Ontario; N IH 6N6 Canada. The understanding and practice of spirituality has tended to focus on an individual person's experience and aspirations, but the individual needs to realize that spirituality is always in a communal context. If spiritual-ity focuses on the experiences the individual has in, through, and of com-munity, there is less danger of an individualistic spirituality. Consider the many examples in the Old Testament and the whole "Body of Chr

Issue 46.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1987. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Deparlment 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. ©1987 by REWEW FOR RELtG~OtJS. Single copies $2.50. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELI(;IOUS: P.O. Box 6070; D~luth, 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 M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors September/October, 1987 Volume 46 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rt:wEw voR Rt:Lmu)us; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW t'OR REI.I(:IOUS; 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, M1 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visu-ally impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. What Do the Laity Expect of Religious Life Guzm6n Carriquiry This article was prepared for the USIG (International Union of Superiors General) and originally appeared in the USIG Bulletin (no. 73, 1987). It is reprinted here with permission. Dr. Carriquiry, a native of Uruguay, is married and father of four. He is head of the Pontifical Council for the Laity and a professor at the Pontifical University Urbaniana. Two Remarks and a Propitious Occasion '~(ou have proposed and requested a very difficult task. Probably I accepted it with a considerable lack of awareness. Preparing for this meeting, I was able to realize the predicament in which I had placed myself. I am not a theologian by profession and even less an expert on the theology of religious life. I have had to read and reflect a good deal on the theme, but even so, I feel very inadequate in facing such a delicate question. I will limit myself, therefore, t.o giving some impressions, reflections and challenges, without any pretense at having a profound penetration into the "mystery" of the religious life. I would like to make a second remark., through a concern for hon-esty. "What do the laity expect. ?" is the question. When we speak of "laity," however, we are referring to many different people. It is good to suspect, or at times to smile at, those who with an excessive fa-cility and pretension claim to be "representatives" of the laity (or of youth, or of the poor, or of women . . .). We are tempted to dress our-selves in plumed clothing in order to hide our nakedness and to give our-selves a better or stronger "image." I am going to answer the question-- What do the laity expect. ? knowing that there will be much that is 641 1542 / fleview for Religious, September-October, 1987 personal to this individual layman, to this poor Christian, as a result of his own journey, experience and convictions. The fact of working in the Pontifical Council for the Laity for many years, however, has placed me in a privileged situation because if one wishes to serve the participation of the laity in the life and mission of the Church effectively--which is the competency of this Dicastery--then it is necessary to listen to and follow with special attention the sensitivities, demands, needs and ex-periences which are part of this multifaceted lay world. I hope to be able to transmit some of this rich experience to you. If, however, there are two evident limitations to this contribution, there is no doubt that it comes at an opportune and propitious moment in the life of the Church. We are in the time between the recent past extraordinary Synod--a commemoration, verification and actualization of Vatican Council II twenty years after its conclusion--and the next ordinary Synod of 1987, which will have as its theme "The vocation and mission of the laity in the Church and in society." The relations between laity and religious are adequately clarified by the knowledge the Church has at present of its mystery of communion and of the demands of i(s mission. And all, bish-ops, priests, deacons, religious and laity--as is stated in the final mes-sage of the extraordinary Synod--are invited to participate in the work of preparation for the next Synod, which "should constitute a decisive step so that all Catholics might receive the grace of Vatican II." From an Ecclesiology of Communion We can begin from an obvious daily experience. Many walls of sepa-ration- material, cultural, ecclesiastical--have been torn down, and to-day a close, simple, fraternal experience of collaboration between the la-ity and religious is lived and shared. This occurs within the most diverse Christian communities, in the most varied works of the Church, in asso-ciations and movements, in structures of "communion and participa-tion" of the combined pastoral team of the local Churches . It is like an immediate, accessible, verified evidence of fraternal collaboration and of common participation. No one can deny it. It can be stated that this is like a reflection and a fruit, a sign and a realization of the "ecclesiology of communion" of Vatican Council II. This I give here as something taken for granted. I find it interesting to point out a double movement, indivisible, in the carrying out of this con-ciliar ecclesioiogy. On one hand, we have gradually gone beyond a cor-porate or governmental division between clergy, religious and laity, com-partmentalized and sometimes in tension or in struggle for the division Expectations of Religious Life / 643 of "power" in the Church. What is anterior and interior to any dis-tinction has been affirmed and accented in this developing movement; that is, what is more essential, common to all, more original and radical in all Christian life. We are members of the great family of the "Chris-tian faithful," incorporated into Christ by baptism, participants in his priesthood, called to holiness, with equal dignity in the eyes of God, all co-responsible for the communion and the mission of the Church. But all "in their own way" because, at the same time, we experience that we are distinct, that this unity of all does not reduce us to uniformity and impoverish us by it, but that it develops fruitfully in the diversity of vo-cations, ministries and charisms which express and enrich the commun-ion and mission of the Church. It is with this ecclesiological basis and in intense ecclesial experience that we pose the question of what the laity expect of religious life . The Laity Expect "Something More" In the first place, I believe that many lay people would be surprised and somewhat disconcerted with the question, unable to respond in a con-scious and well-planned way. However, I think that, instinctively, in-tuitively, their response would be that of expecting "something more" of religious. Yes, they expect something more! Something more radical, more total, more definitive, more profound, more demanding and chal-lenging, in the relationship with God. They expect something more of holiness. In giving this spontaneous response, I pictured the alert, concerned, astonished reaction of the sister who says: "but, Dr . are not the laity also called to sanctity? . . ." And she says something obviously true if considered in the light of present ecclesial self-knowledge, but not so obvious in the understanding of all Christians. That conventional and arbitrary prejudice which seems to reserve holiness to the religious state, judging it in some way the monopoly of the following of Christ or of the evangelical counsels--has been gradually abandoned, and yet, at the same time, the lay condition was often considered a second-class Chris-tian life, a concession to human weaknesses. Ai times, the ideal of holi-ness was seen as a heroic and somewhat "aristocratic" option of per-fection, attained through the initiative of superior men and women. But, be at peace; good sister, because in ever greater numbers, the laity are becoming conscious of this universal vocation to holiness to which Chapter 15 of Lumen Gentium refers in a clear and distinct man-ner. 644 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 This being accepted, perhaps you still remain disturbed that the laity continue expecting from religious a greater radicality of commitment and donation to God (the three vows are like dimensions of a unique vow--I read this some days ago--of the vow of one's whole self, the gift of the entire person, offering oneself to God with all one's energies.); they expect a greater, more immediate and more total liberty and availability in order to follow-imitate-serve Christ; they expect a more direct and tan-gible referenceto the presence of the mystery of God in human life. They are very sure of what they expect even though they cannot always ex-press it well. For this reason, the ordinary lay person is much more exi-gent in observing and in judging the witness given by religious than that given by lay people. In general, this is so. It is surprising that this ex-pectation- which rises up from the "sensum fidei," from this "super-natural instinct" of simple Christians--corresponds perfectly to what the Church considers the radical originality of the religious life: to give wit-ness to and "impulse" in the area of the growth of life, of sanctity. Con-sciously or intuitively, the laity expect that religious will keep as a high priority the primacy, the radicality of the witness to sanctity, not as .a,pat-rimony or goal exclusively their own, but as a call and warning, a chal-lenge and attraction for all the members of the people of God toward this vocation and program of life. It is right that religious should be a bit disturbed when they feel them-selves burdened with such expectations because they feel that it is not. a question of a privilege but of a grave responsibility. In other words, there is a preferential love of God for each one of you--it was he who chose you first and who put his "aspiration" in you, and not you your-selves who decided to be more holy--which burdens you with responsi-bility in the response to God in the Church, I would say before the most "insignificant" of the baptized . . . and even before the most "care-less" of human beings. And it is not sufficient to p~ut on the habit~t~) say, "Lord, Lord." This vocation must be carried out effectively as the will of the Father. Saints or Reformers? In the long history of the Church one can find strong confirmation of what the laity today expect of the religious life. They expect what the Church has always expected, an assurance that they will never be de-prived of this "special gift" which is the religious life. Almost two mil-lennia of life teach that the crucial periods or phases of renewal of the Church--in its communion and in its mission--were brought about and' carried out through the great and liberated energies of holiness, and that Expectations of Religious Life / 645 in the "vanguard" of these holy and reforming energies the numerous and diverse charisms of the religious life proved powerful and fruitful. Let us have a bird's eye view of all this. - When the Church lived under the tension of the seducing powers of "worldliness" on the one hand and of vigorous heretical movements on the other, during the Roman-Christian Empire, the tradition of con-secrated life, of which the first witnesses are already met within the New Testament writings, flowered in the monastic experience, raising up a new spiritual "oxygenation," a passion for unity and a lively responsi-bility for the truth. - Shortly,afterwards, when Ambrose saw "the end of the world" in the total destruction of the Roman Empire of the West and before the invasion of the "barbarians," there came the charism of a Benedict-- as well as of Cyril and Methodius--whose cloistered disciples and fol-lowers would be nothing less than the evangelizers of the new peoples and the principal protagonists of the construction of a new civilization, medieval Christianity. - When the liberty of the Church was being strangled in the suffo-cating and corrupting embrace of feudal chains, currents of sanctity ra-diating from Cluny and Cister made possible the Gregorian reform and a sort of "second evangelization" of medieval Christianity. - And before the upheaval of the urban-mercantile-university revo-lution of the later medieval period--when the sectarian phenomena were swarming like so many devious responses to new sensitivities and cul-tural demands which went beyond the limits of the feudal "order"-- God enriched the communion and mission of the Church with the men-dicant orders for the most incisive and suitable evangelization of the new world and the new culture in process of being born. - And how is it possible to speak of the "Catholic reform" at the moment of the Council of Trent in face of the drama and challenge of the "Protestant reform" and the new missionary needs created by the European expansion at the dawn of modem times without considering the holy charisms of Ignatius, Teresa of Avila, Philip Neri, Angela Merici, Francis de Sales, Vincent de Paul. ? - In the second half of the nineteenth century, the intellectual, spiri-tual and missionary revival of the Church, harassed by the impetus of the secularizing and anti-clerical modernism, had its strong point in the multiplication of religious orders, masculine and feminine, which it would take too long to mention . 646 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 This is a mere schematic outline, certainly, but substantially true in what I wish to demonstrate. Speaking to Superiors General, after hav-ing mentioned the names of great and holy founders, John Paul II con-cluded: All these names testify that the paths of holiness, to which the members of the people of God are called, passed and continue to pass in great part through religious life. And there is no need to marvel at that, given the fact that religious life was founded on the most precise "prescription" for holiness, constituted by love lived according to the evangelical coun-sels. Also, mentioning two essential criteria for the renewal of religious life, the Pope said during his trip to Brazil: The first criterion is that religious life (and concretely every religious community) is not seriously renewed if the objective of the renewal is, in fact, the seeking of the greatest ease and convenience, but only if this objective is the seeking of what is most authentic in religious life and most harmonious with it. The second criterion is that religious life is re-newed by being ever more a road of sanctity. This is nothing else than what is stated by the conciliar decree Per-fectae Caritatis in Number 21. All this brings to mind a marvelous reminder of John Paul II to the laity, when he celebrated the twentieth anniversary of the conciliar de-cree Apostolicam Actuositatem in November, 1985: The Church needs great currents, movements and testimonies of holi-ness among the Christian faithful because it is from holiness that all authentic renewal of the Church is born, all enrichment of the intelli-gence of faith and of the following of Christ, a vital and fruitful re-actualization of Christianity in meeting with human needs, renewed forms of presence in the heart of human existence and in the culture of the nations. More than "reformers," the Church needs saints--frequently re-peats the Pope because saints are the best reformers. And this is the same point stressed by all the participants in the recent extraordinary Synod. Twenty years after the end of Vatican Council II the "univer-sal vocation to sanctity" must have the primacy. Between Crises and Hopes Well. twenty years after the end of Vatican Council II, that great gift of God to the Church of our times, in this crucial phase of renewal of the Church. how does it appear to you? Are religious in the van- Expectations of Religious Life / 647 guard, as first and primary witnesses of those energies and currents of sanctity which effectively renew the Church and the world? A lay per-son responds with fear and trembling: it does not seem to me to be so. Certainly there are not lacking admirable personal and communitarian tes-timonies in religious life--we have them present here--which have an impact far beyond the visible limits of the Church. Thanks be to God! But, in general, there are also the weighty results of the convulsive cri-sis which occurred during the first phase of the "post-conciliar times." The great yon Balthasar says that the strong crisis felt by the Church in the immediate post-conciliar time, and which was partially a crisis of secularization and partially a crisis of comprehension of authority in the Church, affected the priesthood and the religious state in the very depths of its theology and in a manner in-comparably stronger than for the laity who had no great reason to re-flect on its identity and to question itself. What a painful distance there was between the great conciliar hopes of an "adequate renewal of religious life" and the heavy price of un-certainty and instability, of disquiet and disoriented nervousness, of secu-larization and crisis which followed it: so heavy a price that some are still suffering from the results of it and many were ruined by it. A heavy price which indicates, on the one hand, how fossilized and anachronis-tic were some forms inherited from the past--already hatching a crisis under a rather sclerotic shell--and which signals, on the other hand, de-vious and unilateral interpretations and actions in the realization of the renewal desired by Council;, in which there tended to predominate worldly criteria rather than an authentic and rigorous discernment "of the spirit." And this is not the result of expert examinations. The ordinary laity witnessed this crisis when, for example, sending their children to Catho-lic schools, they realized that many religious were leaving their commu-nities, that there were very few novices, that those who remained were usually the oldest . But where do vocations come from? From the grace of God which is never lacking, and from the response of lay men and women who wish to live their baptism more radically. These have not been lacking in these twenty post-conciliar years either. So? We tend to take refuge in a detailed and often rather intellectual enumeration of all the obstacles which are found on the road of total commitment: secu-larism, consumerism, pansexualism, and so forth. Who can deny this? But the "worldly" difficultie~ ought to make even more evident the chal-lenging vigor in the sign, the witness, thecalling. Perhaps the most se- Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 rious,reply with regard to the "crisis" is that, in these last decades, re-ligious life has failed to be radical enough in its following of Christ, suf-ficiently rooted in the full certainties of life, passionate enough as an ex-pression of the mystery of communion, challenging enough for con-version, vigorous enough in its apostolate, transparent enough in its wit-ness to awaken amazement, fascination, admiration, imitation among the many laity made aware of the requirements of baptism and of their Chris-tian responsibility. Today the "uneasy time" has passed. Serenity has been regained. There are promising signs of an increase of vocations. From the at-tempted experimentations there have come more criteria to consolidate the positive and reject the negative. There is a different atmosphere. Re-ligious life is beginning to reflect the new ecclesiai climate. But the Church expects much more from it. It should be strengthened in the Lord. A crisis is fully overcome when the reasons which caused it are discerned in depth: crisis of spiritual discipline, crisis of authority, obe-dience, crisis of communion . It is necessary to "refound" relig-ious life, said Don Egidio Viganb a few years ago. And the great con-necting threads for this new phase of the carrying out of the Council, which gave direction to this refoundation, seem clear: radicality on the road of holiness, passion for the truth, solidity and fidelity to com-munion, missionary impetus of a new evangelization. New Forms of Consecrated Life If there has been a crisis of religious institutes--also states Balthasar--it cannot be said that there has been a crisis of consecrated life because, in addition to the traditional forms of religious life, there have been developing lately new forms of consecration, new forms of "monastic" experiences in the world. In the vigorous "ecclesial move-ments" at the present time--such as the Focolarini, Communion and Lib-eration, Charismatic Renewal in the Spirit--and also in very many other communitarian experiences on local levels, there have been maturing per-sons and groups of persons who have decided, privately, to assume as a radical commitment the practice of the evangelical counsels in life com-munities. These types of vocations have abounded and a great number of new vocations, especially to the contemplative religious life, come from these movements. To be sure, history teaches that different impulses of renewal of re-ligious life are generated from strong charismatic and communitarian ex-periments which do not fit easily into existing forms and which were gen-erating--- or were heading toward--new roads of sanctity. But those more Expectations of Religious Life / 649 and more numerous lay vocations to live the evangelical counsels in a radical form, in forms that are different from the traditional forms of "consecration," should constitute a questioning and challenging sign for religious institutes. Why do they not have a similar attraction? On the other hand, the institutes have a precious patrimony of traditions and of spiritual wisdom which, revitalized and clarified, could be of primary im-portance in facing and directing the new forms which are arising. In the Return of the Sacred Not a few attentive observers at the present time note the emerging signs of a complete process of cultural transition, as if we were in mo-ments of maximum realization and, at the same time, of exhaustion 'from the process of secularization stirred up by the secularist and materialis-tic ideologies: a nihilistic phase, the indifferent absence of great motives and ideals of life, spiritual emptiness and lethargy, the predominance of the miserable idols of money, pleasure, power. At the same time there are emerging everywhere, at times with surprising or ambiguous mani-festations, new sensitive, new "significant" dem~inds, new "religious" expectations. Do we, perhal~s, 'see this under such varied signs as the re-vitalization of the cultural-religious substratum of some nations-- Poland, the Philippines, Haiti;--the resistance to secularizing modern-ism: the renewal of Islam; the accelerated and dangerous expansion of sects and of "mysterious" and "esoteric" cults; the sensitive "relig-ious" antennae of the new generations of youth; the increase of priestly and religious vocations; the great number of places in which individuals and whole peoples claim at the present time to have enjoyed apparitions of the Virgin; the enormous popular repercussions of the apostolic trips of the Holy Father; the growing flood of pilgrims going to the sanctuar-ies of their country? And in so many other and varied ways . "In s.pite of secular-ism," says the final message of the extraordinary Synod, "there exist also signs of a return to the sacred . . , of a new hunger and thirst for the transcendent and the divine . We should open the way to the di-mension of the 'divine' or of the 'mystery.' " This resurgence of the sacred--states a synodal father--will be more vigorous yet in the perspective of the end of the second millennium, but care must be taken so that the response and satisfaction of this new sen-sitivity and need is not given through devious channels and forms, frus-trating in the end because it will appear that the Catholic Church does not itself refer sufficiently to the sacred. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 The whole Church is challenged, but I ask if there is not a special warning call to religious life. Instead of pursuing a retarded and submis-sive adaptation to a secularist culture in process of disintegration, the signs of an emerging culture can be fed on and deciphered only by the signs of the Absolute of God, by the radical testimony of the Mystery of God in human life. In the Agitation of the Secular Life Now let us be more specific. Let us look more carefully at the con-crete and daily experience of lay people. It is their specific work to or-der the world according to the designs of God, to live their Christian vo-cation in the ordinary conditions of family, work, and social life, in the logic and even dullness of created things. This is the road-~diversified in an enormous multiplicity of ways---of their sanctification. Yes, in-deed! I believe that there are many silent, hidden, daily witnesses to sanc-tity among lay people. At times, however, it is truly wearying to have to endure a certain "idealism" or a great deal of ecclesiastical rhetoric when reference is made to the lay state, to the "adult lay person". One gets the im-pression that often it is an abstraction of the real rhythm and weight of the normal day of an ordinary lay person. It is necessary to sanctify and to sanctify oneself in the family, professional and social life. But, how avoid being "pulled about," absorbed by a permanent agitation of the rhythm of life in order to obtain those material and spiritual times nec-essary to give "breath," "feeling" and an orientation to one's own life? Generally, in order to find these moments, as, for example, to as-sist at Mass, to pray in the family, to speak of God with one's children, to grow spiritually as a couple, to be silent., it is necessary to strug-gle and even more, to acquire a "discipline" and to respect it and to put it into practice. Most often one is pulled along by the bustle of the activities, preoccupations, responsibilities and the immediate anxieties of daily life to such a point that life becomes opaque, gray, is impover-ished of spiritual content, goes on marginalizing "the religious" to de-termined ritual moments which become ever more infrequent. And yet more . The laity are asked to assume ecclesiai and secu-lar responsibilities which are on a large scale and require time and la-bor. They are asked to be "militant." And that i~ fine. But what does it mean concretely? That the hours dedicated as catechist in the parish or in teams of service, or to meetings of movements or apostolic groups to which they belong, or absorbed by union responsibilities or participa-tion in the political party--and in this type of commitment the demands Expectations of Religious Life / 651 always seem to multiply if one wishes things to go along better continu-ally-. those hours of "militancy" have to be taken or "stolen" from the domestic and family life at the end of a day's work. For this reason, lay militants are always unstable minorities, threat-ened with discontinuity, doubly sacrificed, in abnegation and dedication. This is not to be regretted; it is their normal habitual condition. Great institutions are not built nor great works done with "extra" hours. Two remarks seem important for service of religious life in face of these situations of the laity. The first is to realize the need that the lay people have--today more than ever---of time, signs and specific spaces of prayer, of being filled with the perspective of the kingdom, savoring the things of God, becoming impregnated with the spirit of the beatitudes which can provide specific nourishment for their family, professional or political life. Many lay people look at and are seeking the contemplative life of religious communities so as to enter into contact with their spiri-tual radiation. You know how difficult it is to be contemplatives in the secular life, since many of your communities are dedicated to works of the apostolate. You can imagine how much more difficult it is for the laity . The second remark refers to the availability of religious for the serv-ice of the Gospel when compared to the obligations of lay people. When I end my day's work, I return home, not in order to rest but to help my wife who is carrying out her duties for the children, to bathe the little ones, to attend to a thousand little domestic needs . I would like to read so many things that could help me grow--and my wife also, natu-rally- but I do not have the time. I would like to visit friends in diffi-culty, to participate in ecclesial or cultural meetings which seem impor-tant to me, to get to know important persons or experiences. But I can-not sacrifice more than a minimum of family time. It is in my marriage and in my family that I see my first and most important responsibilities as a Christian. I am a happy man, but at times I admire and envy the "full time" workers for the Gospel, the "professional revolutionaries" of the Church, those who consecrate themselves exclusively and totally to the Lord. They should show a liberty and availability of tremendous energies for the most varied services for the Christian people. Does it perhaps happen that where there is more time to dispose of, there is more time to waste? On Political Participation If the chief witness of the laity is the Christian presence in the con-duct of the economy of creation, this does not mean that this is a field 659 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 exclusively reserved to them. The witness of lay people challenges re-ligious to go beyond caricatures of flight from the world and to consider their own consecration to God a radical commitment in the service of hu-man beings and of society. The great contributions of the religious life in social construction and progress can be found throughout history; but it is a fact that since the Council they have been going beyond the nar-row horizons, the so-called exclusivity or spiritual incompetence in the name of which religious life degenerated into forms of insensitivity in the face of situations and conditions of injustice and oppressiori suffered by persons, social groups, entire peoples. If the struggle for justice is a constitutive dimension of evangeliza-tion; if the defense and promotion of the dignity, rights and liberties of all human beings are a necessary part of the mission of the Church; if the kingdom of God--kingdom of peace and of justice, of truth and of love--is growing mysteriously in human, history--no religious can con-sider extraneous to her own peculiar vocation these commitments and tasks. It also falls to the religious "to evangelize the political' '--as says the Puebla document--in the sense of values of the Gospel and in con-formity with them. Up to this point, everything is clear. But there are cases in which, in the face of flagrant situations of injustice, misery and violence, when a vigorous and incisive commitment on the part of lay people is lacking, religious feel called to a more direct, surer, more incisive social and po-litical action. No one can be "neutral" in face of such situations. Even in these cases, however, it is necessary, on the one hand, to control the "immediate reaction" which ends up by absorbing and weakening the original vocation of the religious, and on th~ other, to prevent their ac-tions ending up in a well-determined political praxis, in a militant, dis-ciplined commitment, organized in a political party or strategy, with a basic reference to power. In taking this road, the premises for "secularization" are created. In addition, there is the "clerical" temptation of using prestige, social weight and the cultural representativity of ecclesiastics--above all, in Christian environments--as a basis to affirm definite political options worthwhile and free in themselves, and left then to the prudence of each Christian. In cases in which this "political praxis" of religious exists, many of the laity are conscious of a great lack of preparation of an "idealis-tic" voluntarism which substitute forms of "moral indignation" for the complex calculation of political .analysis. Expectations of Religious Life The categorical imperative "it is necessary to become committed" is identified, by some religious, in a mech'anical or simplistic manner with a "plunging into" the agitation of political matters without discern-ment. And this "plunging," with their lack of technical and political preparation, with their "ecclesiastical" condition of life far from the re-alistic stability of family and professional life and responsibility, with their lack of respect for the "weightiness" of the daily life of ordinary mortals, and with their counting on the particular protection of the Church--all this ends up by creating a particular type of untrustworthy political person and confused religious. The ease and simplicity with which some religious pass from traditional forms of life to political radi-calizations and moralistic ideologies is incredible. They are easily ma-nipulated and absorbed into a horizon which gradually becomes a prior-ity and then into a respect which becomes a substitute for ecclesial communion. Truly the Pope is right in insisting that it is not the proper role for religious to be converted into political or union leaders, and even less into state functionaries! Various Methods of Service to Humanity In these experiences of specific political participation, there is, on the part of religious, even if not consciously, a certain devaluation of their particular vocation and, consequently, an inferiority complex which makes one want to excel in the typically lay manner of service to human-ity. This service seems identified with social and political militancy if it is to be truly efficacious. Anything else seems like alienation, indif-ference and even the complicity of religious with injustice and oppres-sion. With this attitude as a basis, there comes a loss of confidence in the specificity of the religious consecration as a fundamental manner of serv-ice to humanity. The council was already warning about this when it said: Let no one think that, by their consecration, religious have become strang-ers to their feliowmen or useless citizens of this earthly city. But, even though in some instances they do not directly mingle with their contem-poraries, yet in a more profound sense, these religious are united with them in the heart of Christ and cooperate with them spiritually. In this way the work of building up the earthly city can always have its foun-dation in the Lord and can tend toward him. Otherwise, those who build this city will perhaps have labored in vain (LG n. 46). Does not the witness of St. Th6r~se of Lisieux teach us the incom- 654 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 parable value of prayer for all human service? Those who take on as a priority the construction of the world through matrimony, the administra-tion of goods and power--such are the laity--greatly need those who ac-company them with prayer as a priority, who remind them that we are in the world but not of the world and that we cannot conform ourselves to the present time; that we must safeguard and strengthen our Christian liberty in face of the seductions of the idols of money, power and pleas-ure; that the "logic" of the beatitudes is authentically revolutionary; that Christ is the cornerstone of all social construction which is to be truly human; that it is worth the trouble to struggle and sacrifice in order to continue creating conditions and experiences of greater justice, solidar-ity and peace so that nothing will be forgotten and all will be redeemed when God grants us "new heavens and a new earth". The best and most radical service to humanity is the testimony of a life which manifests the total supremacy of the love of God. For this rea-son, the special road of service to humanity for religious life consists, today more than ever, in being centered in one's "consecration," in a special care and cultivation of its religious dimension, of its discipline of life and spiritual growth. Living and Manifesting a Specific Charism This life according to the Spirit is diversified and deepened in the fol-lowing of the "charism of the founders." The apostolic exhortation Evangelica Testificatio and the decree Mutuae Relationes emphasized this in a special way. For the majority of lay people, however, I believe that this statement would not be well understood because there is the dan-ger of considering religious life generically, with little variations, with more or less uniform ways, barely differentiated into families with dif-ferent names and habits. It is necessary to ask if the various religious com-munities witness effectively to the gift they have received, to their own original spiritual richness, their particular contribution to the Christian enrichment of all the people of God. If fidelity to one's own charism is a form of obedience to the grace of Christ, if it characterizes the origi-nality of an evangelical project for the following of Christ and encour-ages the discovery of new lights and new dimensions of the totality of Christian life, if it is a specific way of sanctification, the greatest contri-bution of a religious community to the life of the Church and of each Christian is to keep'very much alive the fidelity to this charism, to live it with the same radicality as the founder lived it, to regenerate and radi-ate its relevancy before the needs of the Church and the people, I believe that thus the whole of the people of God would feel more "encouraged" Expectations of Religious Life / 655 and "worked upon" by the powerful ferment of renewal of Christian life. The laity who have contact with religious communities, directly or through schools, clinics, and so forth, would be much more "struck" by these radical charisms. All of that is contained in the generic term-- the Sisters. In this sense, we find much to the point the words of John Paul II in Brazil when, after having emphasized the great pastoral and apostolic service accomplished by religious, he stated: It is not because it is useful to the pastoral work that religious life occu-pies a very definite place in the Church and has an indispensable value. The contrary is true: religious life lends an efficacious service to the pas-toral work because it is and keeps itself firmly faithful to the position it occupies in the Church and to the charisms which characterize this po-sition. In addition, I ask myself if religious communities should not put more emphasis on the witness of the sanctity of their founders or spiri-tual teachers. Many times witness is of more value than words and Chris-tians need "models," fathers and teachers on the road of faith. Life Communities in the Church Permanent life communities which fully involve the person are found in the life of the Church only in religious communities and in Christian families. The differences between these two are obvious. The famil~ is a "natural" community, whose matrimonial nucleusbin the loving and fruitful union of the man and woman--is "sacramentalized" by the Church. The religious community does not have a "natural" base and those who participate in it freely sacrifice precious goods--such as the whole field of conjugal love, the free disposal of material goods, indi-vidual autonomy for the great decisions of life--for a Good, for a Love which is much greater. ~But in both cases we see, in different forms, the mystery of commun-ion which there is in the human origin and destiny and which becomes a daily miracle. In societies which are ever more disunited and frag-mented, where the powerful and uniforming tides of massification break up social bonds in the social fabric--much has been written about th'is-- these very forms of community life acquire even more importance and a great "impact." There is an intense desire for personal recognition, friendship, solidarity, authentic reconciliation, deeper and fuller human encounters and relationships so that people are very sensitive to the hu-man witness and acceptance of these life communities. 656 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 There are beautiful analogies which could be made between religious communities and. family communities. Do not the various aspects of hu-man love which are found ,in family life and which reflect the insepara-ble dimensions of divine love exist in their own manner and even more fully in the religious community as signs, glimpses, first-fruits of the king-dom? Both communities are based on the indestructible and fruitful foun-dation of a spousal love. While in the person-to-person encounter of the man and his wife, their passionate experience of love truly reflects the covenant of Christ with his Church, the religious lets herself be grasped directly and tota~lly by the limitless love of Christ, in the immediilcy of the covenant between Spouse and spouse, with the totality and sublima-tion of a commitment to which all human love is called. Cohsecrated vir-ginity- lived in its serene and mysterious fullness~is the sign of p~ssi-bility and of example to order and encourage the "chastity" of married life in this vital, delicate and fragile complex between the spi,ritual sway and instinctive impulses. There is a complete education to lib~rty, to do-minion over selfl which 'is a ~:ondition of authentic love--so important and urgent today on the level of tlae' new generations, determined and marked by a hedonist mentality and an atmosphere of flagrant eroticism-- which shines through a healthy religious life. ~ ~ The family, although implicitly, also requires a "rule" for i!s com-munity life, and authority is the prinqiple and guarantee of communion. In the rule of rules--that of St. Benedict--the "superior".of the com-mu~ nity is called "father"--abbot. It is good that the superior is recog-nized as "mother" and all are "sisters." Without paternity (maternity) we would remain orphans, community would disintegrate because it would be without a source and point of reference. This is the value of "authority" as derived from "augere," that which helps to increase, to grow in life, which permits the human to grow in persons. It i~ always a reflection on the paternity (maternity) of God, who giyes us life, makes. it grow in faith, brings it to plentitude. There is a spiritual fruitfulness which~.engenders abundant fruits of Christian life. Lay people often observe with special attention the life of r~eligious communities so as to see if they discover, if they perceive that "some-thin~ more" which they expect. For this reason, excessive formalism, minor quarrels, divisions, absence of human warmth, and more dull the communitarian witness. It is as if community were more an obligatory formality than a radiation of liberty and life. The laity must be able to see in the life of religious communities the carrying out in a small way of this reconciliation in depth, of this fraternity and solidarity,, of this Expectations of Religious Life / 657 peace and happiness in communion for which all human beings yearn in their heart, a strong sign of "reconciled humanity" in the interior of the mystery of communion of the Church, a model of "the new society" in which can be found united liberty and solidarity, where authority is exercised as paternity (maternity), where there is a different attitude to-wards riches, in which human relations are brought to their fullness by liberty and do not degenerate into domination, and which brings all its members to an ordered participation;'and "above all," as says a beauti-ful text bf the Puebia document: where it is unequivocally manifested that, without a radical communion with, God in Jesus Christ, any form of purely human communion re-mains in the long run incapable of being sustained and ends totally in tu'rning against the human person. In other words, nothing less than a corner of heaven! Some Priority Areas Lay people are very sensitive to the way religious life witnesses to poverty, and they are also very demanding, at times too demanding, with religious and little, indeed, with themselves. It is good, howev.er, to be challenged by this exigency. More than an "area" of work or of commitment, poverty is a radi-cal dimension of "cbnsecration" insofar as it is detachment from mate-rial goods and affirmation of the liberty which recognizes God as its only good. These are admirable witnesses. On too many occasions, however, the laity do not succeed in seeing how this vow of poverty is manifested concretely as detachment and liberty. Even more, many times, with no malice, they notice that religious liv~e rather conveniently~---even comfort- ~ably--x~ith all material problems settled in the present and in the future, and that in environments which show nothing of "poverty." It'is not a question of their asking for "romantic" gestures nor of exaggerat)ng criticism. But, at least a greater austerity and severity of life is required, a more generous availability in the sharing of material and spiritual goods, the elimination of all that is superfluous . This exigency is even more challenging since it is within a Church which is ever more conscious of and determined concerning the so-called "preferential option for the poor." "This preferential option for the poor," says Don Egidio Viganb in a very expressive synthesis which we cannot examine in detail now, questions religious very concretely, especially the institutes of active life. It demands a review of the specific mission in light of those receiv- Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 ing it. It requires a study and replanning of the presence of the religious. It deepens the sacramental meaning of the vow of poverty, places in dia-logue the great values of evangelical poverty with the pressing obliga-tions of social misery, proclaims with ever greater clarity that the pov-erty of the beatitudes is a challenge to materialism and opens doors to solutions which are alternatives to those of the consumer society. Religious should also take to heart the criteria mentioned by the magis-terium of the Church as to the evangelical authenticity of this "option": it is not exclusive nor excluding because the message of salvation is di-rected to all; it is animated by an intention which is primarily religious and not political; it does not let itself be entrapped by nor reduced to a class dialectic; it takes into consideration the existence of various forms of poverty in situations of 'hunger and misery, of unemployment and marginalization, of deprivation of liberty, of physical or mental health or other material and/or moral privations. In this preferential love for the poor as derived from the love of Christ for all is found in great measure the witness of religious life today. A special attention to the young also seems to be a basic and urgent requirement for religious communities of our times. There is a long and impressive religious tradition of the education of youth which shou!d not be abandoned but should be renewed and deepened. The point is clear; an individual becomes social and is educated, from the most tender age, fundamentally through the family and the school. These are the two ba-sic "channels" to lead youth to reality. But could it be that the States, political parties, ideological strategists would take a strong interest in the school in order to "penetrate" into the world of youth and direct it ac-cording to their various criteria and interests, while the Church-- especially religious communities--would underestimate its educational tradition and its educational institutions and responsibilities? In times of crisis of credibility and of search for "ideologies," when the most no-ble energies and concerns remain dissatisfied with the suffocating mate-rialism of the consumer society, it is more important than ever to offer to the young great and vigorous proposals, ideal certainties of life as signs and guides for their own education. Christian lay people, parents of families, need to count on the help of the Catholic school because the first responsibility for education falls on the parents, and the family is the basic place for growth in the faith of its members. Nevertheless, there is a considerable amount of catecheti-cal instruction, of Christian attitudes, of fruitful joining of faith with cul-ture which is acquired in. the environment and activity of the school. The Expectations of Religious Life I 659 most fruitful means is that of an active and co-responsible educational collaboration between the family and the Catholic school. I am sure that it is not without concern to the laity that educational religious communi-ties are abandoning the field of the school. On the contrary, they should intensify their commitment involving the collaboration of the laity, es-pecially of the parents, and should go beyond the "administrative" and routine activities in the running of the school, transforming it ever more into a vigorous, radiant, highly educational environment and seek means to make their services always more accessible and fruitful. Here there is much to rethink, to plan and to carry out along the line of a scholastic pastoral which meets all these demands. I think also of other milieux and human activities which have been converted into new frontiers of the ecclesial mission, in which the pres-ence of the Church cannot be limited to some free-lance laity. There surely is no lack of religious charisms for the apostolic work among in-tellectuals, artists, professionals of social communication, factory work-ers . According to the Measure of the Gift of Christ One last remark. The Council says that while profession of the evangelical counsels involves the renunciation of goods which undoubtedly deserve to be highly valued, it does not con-stitute an obstacle to the true development of the human person, but by its nature is supremely beneficial to that development (LG 46). Thus the renunciation should not diminish the human but rather help to develop the human stature according to the measure of the gift of Christ. This "something more," this "much more," of holiness, which the laity expect of religious finds its response in the witness of new men, of new women, penetrated with the Absolute of God, radically incorpo-rated into Christ, totally dedicated to the service of others. If Christ re-veals to human persons the 'fullness of their being and their destiny, all radical following of Christ can be only a path of integral fulfillment for humanity. It is necessary to show that what one abandons in order to fol-low Christ will be recovered even now, multiplied, as more human riches more full of humanity. Lay people hope to meet in religious well-balanced Christian person-alities because they are centered in God and, therefore, persons having an effective equilibrium and emotional serenity (how many "argu-ments" reveal psychological immaturity !) of ever more solid intellectual formation (why in the past did one so rarely meet religious on this 660 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 level?), with 'a great liberty because a great obedience radiates a richness of life from their "interior castle." They expect them to be attentive and generous in dedication and service, spreading a happiness and a joy which come from within, persons of whom one can speak and think of as models for women of hidden but full life, in the image of Mary, first and greatest disciple of Christ. Words, Words, Words How glibly do we toss them off, precious self-wrought jewels, precious beyond diamond, sapphire or pearl: Mined from quickened breath, warmed by channeled blood, carried live on currents of air they glow to foul or fair. Let us then nourish them ~with care, knowing their fire can rage uncontrolled to devastating No or curved to simple Yes, can make a world of bleak distress spin in giddy joy, and bring a God to birth while angels sing! Marcella M. Holloway, C.S.J. 6321 Clemens Avenue, Saint Louis, Missouri 63130 The Public and Witness Religious Life Dimension of David F. O'Connor, S.T. Father O'_Connor, past president of the Canon Law Society of America, is chairman of the Department of Church Law at the Washington Theological Union. He resides at the Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Religious life has a public dimension to it which is intended by the Church. Religious, both in their personal and their corporate lifestyles, are meant to be identifiable as Church-people and to witness Gospel val-ues. They engage in' forms of the apostolate and in ministry always in the name of the Church and under the authority of their respective relig-ious SUl~eriors and local bishops. All of this manifests their distinctive character, their place in the Church and their canonical status. An awareness of this--and it is not always viewed by everyone as an unambigtious biessing~--helps us better understand some of the events occurring on the contemporary scene; for example, the reaction of the hierarchy to religious who are seeking public office or those who sign published statements which a.ppear to be contrary to Church positions. The following article is iritended to elaborate somewhat on this pub-lic dimension of the religious life and some of its implications for relig-ious. The Institutionalizing of a Charismatic Fbrm Since Vatican II, we have a renewed awareness of the religious life as a charismatic vocation, a gift of the Spirit to the Church.2 This has helped deepen our understanding and appreciation of its place and role in the Church. For the Holy Spirit is not only the source of the inspira- 661 662 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 tion of the founders, but also of those who have followed after them down through the succeeding generations. These charisms have contrib-uted in a significant and special way to the very holiness of the Church and to its ability to fulfill its mission in this world.3 A religious commu-nity is obliged to hand on an awareness of its charism to new members so that these gifts of the Spirit may be lived, safeguarded, deepened and constantly developed.4 Charisms are given within the Church for the building up of the Church community. Whenever a claim is made by a group of the faith-ful that it is living a radical form of the Gospel life, such a claim cannot be ignored by the wider Church, especially by the bishops who are the pastors and guardians of the faith.5 The assertion that one is being led by the Spirit, now as in the past, needs to be examined and authenticated by the wider Church community before it can be given credence and ac-ceptance. Historically, ecclesial recognition was given informally and im-plicitly for the first few centuries. But, beginning in the fourth century, bishops of the local churches, aware of certain abuses and of the disrup-tiveness of some wandering monks, required monastic groups to have of-ficial and explicit approval before establishing a foundation. Indeed, the canons of the Council of Chalcedon (45 I) established the norms Which regulated the relationship of bishops and monasteries up until the Mid-dle Ages. Then, because of the development of large and centralized re-ligious orders in the thirteenth century, official recognition was fre-quently reserved to Rome. It is a fact, then, that ecclesial recognition and authentication of charis-matic groups existed in some form from the beginning of the devel-opment of religious life. It was necessary in order to determine whether or not a particular group or rule truly was presenting a viable form of Gospel life. Ecclesial or canonical approbation had the added benefit of helping to preserve the original charism of the founder and the first mem-bers by institutionalizing it within the visible community of faith. Ca-nonical authentication of a particular style of Gospel life has helped it to be passed on to succeeding generations of men and women, and this has redounded to the benefit of the wider Church. The religious life, as we know it today, is canonically established only through the official recognition of the Church's pastors, the hierar-chy. This has helped safeguard the faithful from. being led astray by ab-errant forms of Christianity which, in the past, frequently ended up in fanaticism, schism or heresy. The Church possesses within itself the charism of discerning spirits, and this is exercised by the bishops as part Witness of Religious Life / 663 of their pastoral office. As Karl Rahner has stated: " . . . the official Church is also the guardian and guide of the charismatic element--she herself possesses the gift of the discernment of spirits."6 Canonical Approval of a Religious Institute The Church, through the pastoral office of its bishops, is forced at various times and places to state what it considers to be compatible or incompatible with the Gospel because the Church does sponsor groups, institutions and agencies which publicly and officially represent it. These public institutions have to be supervised lest they present a distorted pic-ture of the gospel values which the Church incarnates. Religious insti-tutes are one such form. Both the institutes as such and its members rep-resent the Church. Once canonical or ecclesiastical recognition is granted to a religious community, that community no longer exists as a private and independ-ent group of the faithful, nor does the institute exist in isolation from par-ties external to it, even though it does enjoy some canonical autonomy.7 For, once having sought and been granted official recognition and ap-proval, the religious institute takes upon itself an added identity--it be-comes an ecclesial institute and is linked to the hierarchy in a special man-ner. 8 Official Church recognition identifies the institute as a Church in-stitution, and it identifies its members, women or men religious, as Church-people, involved in a life of public dedication and service in the name of the Catholic Church.9 Membership in a canonically approved form of consecrated life, which requires the profession of public vows, involves an ecclesial form of commitment that distinguishes religious from other members of the faithful, even those who may be in secular institutes. The latter do not represent the Church in its public life, but live somewhat anonymously, maintain their secular vocation, and qui-etly work to Christianize their milieu. ~0 A Personal Witness That Is Public Religious, as publicly consecrated members of the faithful, are ex-pected, as is every Christian, to witness a personal commitment to Christ. But because they are called by their vocation to an ecclesiai form of public consecration, they are expected tO bear a visible witness to a deep, personal experience of Christ and to share the faith, hope and love which it inspires. ~ For religious, above all, are consecrated to the Lord. Their development in holiness of life is more important than the good works they perform. As John Paul II has remarked: "What counts most 664/Review for Religious~ September-October, 1987 is not what religious do, but what they are as persons consecrated to the Lord." ~2 The canons of the Code of Canon Law reassert some of these essen-tial personal obligations. Canon 662 states that religious are to have as their highest rule of life the ['ollowing of Christ as it is proposed in the Gospel and in their constitutions. The constitutions of each institute help specify and make the Gospel particular for their religious, how it is to be lived in service to others in the name of Christ and of his Church. Re, ligious are to bemen and women of prayer. Their first and foremost duty is the contemplation of divine things, and assiduous union with God in prayer. ~3 They are expected to use the traditional forms ,of, worship and devotion: daily participation in the eucharistic sacrifice, the prayerful read-ing of Sacred Scripture, mental prayer, devotion to Our Lady, and the Liturgy of the Hours. ~'~ .Religious, as individuals,.are ,to engage, in the asceticism required for personal conversion of heart through a daily ex-amination o~ conscience and by frequently receiving the sacrament of pen-ance. 15 These devotional obligations are assumed personally by every relig-ious who takes his or her spiritual life seriously. The cultivation of the interior life is an absolute necessity if the public consecration of a relig-ious is not to become a charade. Without a deep, personal spiritual life, perseverance in a public form of consecrated life becomes tenuous and the fulfillment of the vows turns int~) a heavy burden. " Th~ faithful have a right to expect that those who have publicly ded-icated their lives to Christ by religious profession will be living exam-ples of a GoSpel life. The Church presents religious to the world as pub-lic witnesses of evangelibal values. Holiness of life and a generous, un-selfish service of the People of God are a'rightful expect, ation from each religious. A Corporate Witness That Is Public Religious life is characterized by a communitarian lifestyle. All reli-gious are expected to live in some form of common life which is proper to the specific institute to which they belong. 16 Because of the centrality of the enclosure for monastic religious and some form of active service for apostolic religious, the styles of their common life will be radically different. Indeed, monastic institutes which are totally ordered to the con-templative life are prohibited from engaging in any form of pastoral min-istry outside the monastery,. ~7 However, all religious are expected to live in a house of their own institute with their.brothers or sisters. ~8 Their life together is intended to be a microcosm of the Church, idealized in the Witness of Religious Life / 665 Jerusalem community described in the Acts of the Apostles (2:44): "The faithful all lived together and owned everything in common; they sold their goods and possessions and shared among themselves according to what each one needed." Religious community life is to be filled with pray-erfuines~ and with Christian service and love. Religious life is actually lived on the local level, in a pa.rticular house with specific women or men. The locai community takes on certain char-acteristics, principally because of the individual religious who live to-gether, and secondarily because of the apostolates in which they are en-gaged. The image or witness which they project will depend upon many factors, especially the expectations and experience of the people with whom the religious interact. If the religious are perceived as prayerful, charitable, joyful and generous in their community life together, their cor-porate or collective witness will evidence the Gospel ideal and they will be what the Church intends--living witnesses of Christian love. It may be well to recall the fact that a group is frequently able to wit-ness better than individual persons. An individual can be--all too easily-- simply dismissed as just an eccentric. However, a community of Chris-tian men or women, living a similarly dedicated lifestyle, cannot be so perfunctorily ignored or written-off. Moreover, the members of a relig-ious community can offer support to one another by their companionship and prayerfulness, especially when the Gospel values they embody are countercultural. Living witnesses are a powerful sign. Reflective people will be forced to examine the faith dimension and Gospel values which are the foundation of their own religious lifestyle. Those who do not share our Christian values may be led to a greater appreciation of them by the wit-ness of a vibrant, faith-filled religious community. In fact, it was just such an experience which led the famous~ agnostic, British commenta-tor, Malcolm Muggeridge, to become a Christian-- and later a Catholic-- after his experience in Calcutta with Mother Teresa and her Missionar-ies of Charity. Few people can remain totally indifferent to a corporate Christian wit-ness. Either they will reject it or accept it. That is why the Church pre-sents religious as living witnesses of Christ, as Lumen Gentium, 46, states: Let religious see well to it that the Church truly show forth Christ through them with ever increasing clarity to believers and unbelievers alike --- Christ in contemplation on the mountain, or proclaiming the king-dom of God to the multitudes, or healing the sick and maimed and con- 666 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 verting sinners to a good life, or blessing children and doing good to all people, always in obedience to the will of the Father who sent him. The Witness of Public Vows Religious profess the evangelical counsels as public vows in the con-text of their community lifestyle. Their vows cannot be properly under-stood or appreciated apart from the context of their common life. The Witness of Consecrated Poverty The public vow of poverty, as professed in religious institutes, would be better appreciated and offer a better public witness if it were presented as a vow of common life and goods. Too often the term "poverty" is judged by socio-economic criteria and religious are misjudged as lack-ing because they are not "poor" in that ordinary meaning of the term. Those of us who are educated or who live in comfortable houses, drive automobiles, eat three meals a day, and so forth, (and that is the vast majority of American religious) are sometimes even thought to be vio-lating our commitment. We are judged as hypocritical for professing a "vow of poverty," when it is obvious that we are not "poor." There certainly is a socio-economic dimension to how we are to live our religious life. Our lifestyle must be adapted to the particular cultural and economic situation in which we live, so that we do not give the appearance of being wealthy. Also, there are ascetical demands made upon us, personally and corporately, to live simply and avoid the dele-terious influences of the larger consumer society. Nevertheless, we are not, in fact, invited by our vow to embrace a debilitating, crushing, in-humane form of economic poverty as the ideal of our commitment. That is not religious poverty. That is not the purpose of our vow. Religious poverty can only be valued and offer edification if it is recognized as an essential aspect of community life and, where applica-ble, a dimension of an apostolate. Thus everything a religious acquires as a member of the institute is acquired for the institute. 19 The religious community, in turn, provides for the needs of its members so that they can fulfill the purpose of their vocation in that specific religious family.2° Ascetically, religious are urged to forego standards of comfort and conven-ience which may be legitimate for others and to exercise a certain re-straint in the forms of relaxation and entertainment they choose.2~ All of this is intended to promote the spiritual life of the religious and to help free us from the desire to accumulate things and, positively, to liberate our hearts for the things of God. Witness of Religious Life / 667 When religious undertake apostolates among the socio-economically and culturally deprived, they are required to adapt their style of living to the demands of their apostolate. This will often involve a style of life approximating that of the people among whom they live and work. Life on the missions is not like life at home. Life among the poor in the rural areas of Appalachia or in the inner-city of our large urban centers will bring with it many restrictions and the call for a special asceticism. Those religious can well be viewed as living "poorly" in the more ordinary sense of the word. Generally, if religious are seen as lix;ing a rather simple lifestyle, per-sonally and communally, this will be a source of great edification, espe-cially if they are serving others generously and unselfishly. The Gospel ideal of poverty and simplicity can be beautifully manifested by such a public witness. The faithful are reminded that superfluous goods are not necessary for happiness and contentment. The unencumbered life of reli-gious can help people to look beyond the present world. It can support the credibility of the Gospel° message which religious are to preach by their lifestyle. Religious poverty can be a reminder to every member of the faithful that we are all called to rely upon the Lord, and to manifest a loving concern for our neighbor, especially the needy and the .deprived, whoever they may be. The Witness of Consecrated Chastity If there is anything that is truly countercultural in our modern soci-ety, it is the value of Christian chastity and marital fidelity. A life of dedi-cated chastity and celibacy runs directly contrary to the pleasure princi-ple which is so dominant in our post-Christian western world. Our contem-poraries cannot ignore the witness of thousands of men and women who profess to live chastely and celibately out of love for God and in the serv-ice of others. Those who share our common faith and values, especially those who are themselves without spouses because of circumstances be-yond their control, find great support and consolation in the awareness that many of their sisters and brothers in the Lord live happy and fulfill-ing lives as celibate religious. The community lifestyle of religious provides them with their princi-ple support group.22 Their life shared in common with their religious brothers or sisters is a Christian and humane lifestyle that offers an ideal context for their vowed life. Apostolic religious especially benefit from a communal dimension to their dedication to mission. While their pri-mary orientation may be to serving others, their religious community set-ting on the local level should be the base to which they return for spiri- 668 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 tual ,and fraternal/sisterly refreshment. Again, the fact that a group can offer a better witness than individuals is an important consideration when it involves a chaste and celibate Christian lifestyle. Individuals find their commitment under assault or too heavy a burden if they live alone and apart. Living celibately in a communal setting can witness that religious do not live lonely and eccentric single lives, but live in a Christian faith community and in hope of complete fulfillment in the eschaton. The Witness of Consecrated Obedience Religious have willingly accepte~d,a pattern of life that is largely laid down for them.23 They follow a,rule or constitution and live in residence under the authority of those who have been elected or appointed as reli-gious superiors.24 Their vow of obedience has limited their freedom and their options so that they might pursue the cor~mon good and the corpo-rate mission of their particular religious institute. Ultimately, they seek, as women and men of faith, to discern the will of God in the commands they are given in holy obedience. This enalSles their institute to under-take corporate commitments and helps galvanize the personal investmeni of time and talent into a commhnity endeavor. ' The life of religious obedience requires a great sense of faith. The generosity that this clemands can help foster the spiritual maturity of re-ligious as they strive humbly to imitate the obedience and love of Jesus who sought only.to do the will of his Father. Certainly, jn a society and culture that exaggerates the importance of individual freedom, Christian obedience is truly countercultural. The obedience of religious is fre-quently denigrated as a "blind obedience" by those who do not share our faith values. However, our brothers and sisters in the faith often find it a rather Christ-like response and are disedified when they perceive the opposite in the lives of religious. All Christians are obliged to seek the will of the Lord. Thus the hum-ble example of obedient religious can only help to build up the Body of Christ. Canonical Consequences of the Public Dimension Appropriate Attire Since religious life has a public dimension to it, it seems reasonable, all things considered, that a distinctive style of garb might have some advantages, especially in many apostolates, and in our commitment to a simple lifestyle. It is quite common to find that people in "service" roles, even professional ones, are recognizable .by their uniform or pro- Witness of Religious Life / 669 fessional'attire. We tend to expect that these people will be readily iden-tifiable when we need their services. 'Indeed, the sign or witness dimension is referred to in the canon which concerns the garb of religious.25 While a religious "habit," in the strict sense of the term, is more appropriately a monastic garment, custom and tradition among many apostolic institutes has provided them with a style of dress which identified them as pertaining to a particular religious family. Often enough it was a form of dress suitable to another age or culture. Frequently, too, apostolic groups adopted the contempo-rary clerical dress, if they were men religious. While not adopting a habit, as such, they did choose a style of dress that gradually became a traditional garb that went unchanged and unadapted to times and circum-stances. It was for the most part a post-Vatican II phenomenon that, in-stead of guitably adapting the dress, as was expected, it was often dis-carded entirely in part because of the difficulty of deciding on something acceptable to all the members. Another purpose for wearing a religious garb is that it is intended to be a sign of simplicity of lifestyle and religious poverty. It is appropri-ate that a public witness to the Gospel should evidence a certain degree of Christian detachment and modesty. Experience has shown that it is difficult to,dress attractively and appropriately for every occasion with-out having to invest in a.rather extensive wardrobe. A simple garb which is modest, becoming and dignified solves this problem. However, the rules and regulations of each institute, the expectations of the local Church, the demands of the apostolate and the requirements of the particular culture and clime all have to be considered when it comes to deciding in concrete situations how one ought to be dressed. There is no requirement in Canon Law that the habit or religious garb be worn on every occasion, nor at all times, nor in all places. Indeed, the Apostolic~ See itself has stated that a secular style of dress, without any recognizable sign or symbol, can be permitted when a habit would be an impediment to the everyday exercise of activities which should be undertaken by the relig'ious.26 Mission in the Name,.of the Church All forms of apostolic activity are to be undertaken by men and women religious only in the name of the Church and in communion with it.27 The exercise of the apostolate by religious is never entirely a pri-vate and personal ministry. It is always, in some sense, a public and cor-porate one.28 The Vatican Council stated that one of the essential ele-ments of the Christian apostolate is that it be conducted in union with 670 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 those whom the Holy Spirit has assigned pastorally to govern the Church.29 It is the duty of the local bishop to coordinate all forms of the apostolate among his portion of the People of God.3° Religious are' al-ways to be subject to their own superiors and to the local bishop in the exercise of all forms of the external apostolate.3~ Unbecoming Activities Church law has always recognized that the public nature of the cleri-cal ministry and the religious life places certain restrictions on the ac-tivities in which clerics or religious may engage. However, what may be inappropriate at one time and place may not be so in another. Times change and so do the circumstances. As a result, the 1983 Code of Canon Law is both different and simi-lar to the 1917 Code. It is different insofar as some of the activi, ties which were considered unbecoming for clerics and religious, such as the prac-tice of medicine, especially surgery, are no longer prohibited by the re-vised code. It is the same in that a number of activities which were proscribed by the old code appear again in the new one-~especially the general prohibition that forbids religious and clerics to engage in any ac-tivity which is foreign to their way of life.32 No specific unbecoming are enumerated here. Such determination is be left to the good judgment and prudence of mature women and men religious as they con-sider the demands of the apostolate in their .particular culture, time and place. Of course, specific directives can be given by the proper religious superiors and by the local bishops. These would have to be observed. Public or Political Office The new code continues the prohibition of the old one that religious are not to assume a public office to which is attached the exercise of civil authority, such as the office of mayor, attorney general, governor, or sim-ilar offices.33 The reason seems self-evident--persons holding such of-rices confuse Church ministry with a civil role, and inhibit a Gospel and prophetic stance. Religious are meant to be°at the service of people as heralds of the Gospel in the name of the Church. Similarly, they are not to take an active role in partisan political par-ties nor in the management of labor unions, unless they have the permis-sion of their ecclesiastical superiors.34 Again, the reason for this general proscription is that the public image and identity of a religious is that of a representative of the Church community. When publicly dedicated Church-people become too closely identified with a specific ideology, any Gospel witness is blunted, and the situation often distracts people Witness of Religious Life / 671 from the various social justice and public stands which the Church may want to make through its pastors.35 Finally, religious are supposed to be agents of reconciliation, not division. They should foster peace and jus-tice as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God.36 Secular Financial Responsibilities , Another general area which religious are wisely urged to avoid, un-less good reasons indicate otherwise--in which cases permission can be granted--is the acceptance of secular financial responsibilities or involve-ment in business and trade activities. The canons prohibit religious, gen-erally, from undertaking the management of property owned by the la-ity and from assuming any secular office which require financial accountability.37 However, today it is easy to envision situations in which a religious might be expected to do so. For example, the demands of a certain apostolate may require that, at least for the time being, a re-ligious administer the finances of an organization, especially when no one else is in a position to do so. Likewise, a religious may find himself or herself having to take care of the financial affairs of an incapacitated relative or friend. Charity and common sense may simply demand this. However, the general prohibition is a wise one and should force a relig-ious to consider alternatives. And having to explain a request to do so to the religious superior can help prevent an imprudent decision. The same type of consideration should be given to the matter of a religious becoming involved in business or trade, personally or on be-half of others.38 The present code is more lenient than the 1917 one and expressly indicates that permission to do so can be granted, presumably for good reasons. Again, it is not difficult to imagine situations where this may be necessary or beneficial, at least for a reasonable period of time. If, for example, a religious is an only child and inherits a small family business with which he or she had been most familiar before en-tering religion, the most prudent decision could be for the religious tem-porarily to oversee the business until other provisions can be made. The above prohibitions are, in general, completely consonant with the nature of the religious life. Yet it is eminently reasonable that excep-tions be permitted. The dangers present for religious, in becoming too hastily and imprudently involved in financial matters that have nothing to do with their community, are all too evident. It is especially fitting that religious not be burdened with financial involvements when they have responded to a vocation which requires them to develop an asceti- 679 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 cism of detachment and a life of simplicity. Military Service and Civil Exemptions Finally, since religious are followers of the Prince of Peace, it is par-ticularly incongruous that they volunteer to bear arms in times of con-flict, unless they are legally bound to do so. Therefore, the canons state that religious are not to volunteer for military service and they should take advantage of civil exemptions, if they exist, to avoid this and any other public or civic duty which is foreign to religious life.39 Certainly this prohibition does not apply to service as military chaplains or any simi-lar type of ministry. The prohibition would seem to apply to accepting jury duty in criminal cases also, especially if they are capital offenses, when an exemption is possible. It seems most inappropriate that a relig-ious be in a position of determining the guilt of citizens and playing part in their incarceration or execution. Again, canon law recognizes that there can be exceptional cases in which the proper religious superior and ecclesiastical authority can grant permission to a religious to act contrary to the general canonical norm that the above activities are to be avoided. Conclusion Ecclesial authentication of charismatic forms of the Gospel life ex-isted from the beginning. At first, ,such approbation was given unoffi-cially and implicitly. Later, it became an official and explicit necessity. The religious life is a charismatic and an ecclesial form of public conse-cration. Religious institutes are public agencies of the Church which pre-sents the members as public witnesses of Gospel values. The personal and corporate lifestyles of religious, as well as their apostolic activities, are at the service of the Church and are supervised by their superiors and the bishops. Since religious are iri apublic form of consecrated life, they are expected, all things considered, to be recognizable, and to avoid those activities which muddle or confuse their ecclesiai image. Above all, religious are expected to be living examples of evangelical values: chastity for the sake of the kingdom; Gospel simplicity in lifestyle; hum-ble~ and Christ-like obedience; and complete dedication to a loving serv-ice of people in the name of the Church. The counterculturai witness of religious is meant to speak eloquently of a deep faith conviction that Je-sus is the way, and the truth and the life. NOTES See Carolyn Osiek in Vatican H and Its Documents: An American Reappraisal, ed., Witness of Religious Life / 6"/3 Timothy E. O'Connell0(Michael Glazier, Inc., Wilmington, Delware, 1986), pp. 86- 87. 2 Perfectae caritatis, 1; canon 575. 3 Lumen Gentium, 39. '~ Mutual Relations, II (Henceforth MR). 5 See Raymond Hostie, The Life and Death of Refigious Orders (CARA, Washing-ton, D.C., 1983), p. 21. 6 See The Dynamic Element in The Church (Herder, New "fork, 1964) p. 62; Lumen Gentium, 43; canon 573, §1 and §2. 7 Canon 586, §1. 8 Canons 573, §2, 575-579. 9 Canon 675, 93. l0 Canons 710-730. I~ Essential Elements, 33. (Henceforth EE). ~z Papal Message to the Plenary Assembly of CRIS, March 1980; EE, 33. ~3 Canon 663, 91. ~4 Canon 663, §2, §4. ~5 Canon 664. 16 Canons 607, 92 and 665. ~7 Canon 674. 18 Canon 665, 91. ~9 Canon 668, §3. 20Canon 679; see David F. O'Connor, "Two Forms of Consecrated Life; Religious and Secular Institutes," REvmw voR Rv.~.m~ous, 46, n. 2 (1986) pp. 205-219. z~ Christus Dominus, 33-35. ~ Canons 599, 602 and 607, §2. 23EE, 34. 24Canons 601,608 and 665. 25Canon 669. 26See Canon Law Digest, 7 (1975) pp. 534-535. 27Canon 675, §3. 28EE, I 0. 29Apostolicam actuositatem, 23; MR, 9 (a). 30Canons 394, 91 and 680; MR, Chapt. II. 3~ Canon 678. 32Canons 285 and 672. 33Canons 285, §3 and 672. 34 Canons 287 and 672. 35 See George Aschenbrenner, "Currents in Spirituality," Rv.w~w voR R~L~o~ous, 42, n. 2 (I 983), pp. 183-186. 36 CRIS, "Religi6us and Human Promotion," Canon Law Digest, 9 (1983), pp. 379-410; David F. O'Connor, "Religious in Politics," R~wEw ~oa R~L~6~ous, 41, n. 6 (1982), pp. 834-848. 37 Canons 285, §4 and 672. 38 Canons 286 and 672. 39 Canons 289 and 672. The Religious as "Sentry": A Reflection on the Prophet Ezekiel James Fitz, S.M. Father Fitz is a member of the Provincial Administration of his congregation's Cin-cinnati Province. An earlier article, "Religious Life as Acted Prophecy," appeared in the issue of November/December, 1982. Father Fitz may be addressed at the Mari-anist Provincialate; 4435 East Patterson Road; Dayton, Ohio 45430-1095. [~uring my twenty-one years as a religious, I have attended many vow cer-emonies in support of brothers and sisters saying "yes" to their call from the Lord. At these liturgies the first reading has often come from the Old Testament prophets--the call of Isaiah or Jeremiah, for exam-pie-- to indicate that those making profession identify with the call Of these prophets. But, I have yet to attend a ceremony where the call of Ezekiel is the Old Testament reading. In fact, it is not even one of the optional readings in the Lectionary for the Mass of Religious Profession. Yet, I believe the call of Ezekiel as sentry is an apt model and image for religious life today. The Value of an Image In recent years, theologians and spiritual writers have used images and models to describe the mysteries of our Christian faith. In so doing they have imitated Jesus himself, ~who often used images to evoke understanding: "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field.; the kingdom of heaven is like the yeast a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour.; the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed.; the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field.; the kingdom of heaven is like a drag- 674 The Religious as Sentry / 675 net. " These images helped Jesus' hearers enter into the mystery of faith. The Second Vatican Council used images when it described the mys-tery of the Church in its Dogmatic Constitution, Lumen Gentium. Im-ages like "the People of God," "a sheepfold," "the edifice of God," "our Mother," "the body of Christ," "a pilgrim in a foreign land," "a kind of sacrament" help elucidate the mystery of the Church. Avery Dulles' book, Models of the Church,~ uses images and mod-els in a similar way. Images and models, then, can be helpful ways to penetrate the richness of a mystery of our faith, to evoke an understand-ing of some complex reality of our tradition. Images and models have been helpful also in the understanding of religious life. The authors of Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life,2 for example, have imagined religious in the different eras of religious life as ascetics, monks, mendicants, soldiers and apostolic servants. These images help elucidate the predominant understanding of religious life during the various eras of Church history. This article will explore the image of the prophet Ezekiel as sentry in the belief that it helps elucidate our contemporary understanding of religious life. The Call of Ezekiel In the third chapter of Ezekiel, we hear: "Child of the earth, I have appointed you as a sentry to the House of Israel. When you hear a word from my mouth, you shall warn them for me" (3:16). The third chapter continues to expand on this call. If God says to wicked people, "You shall surely die" (3:18), and Ezekiel does not warn them or speak out to dissuade them from their wicked conduct, the wicked people will die for their sins but God will hold Ezekiel responsible for their death. If Ezekiel speaks out and the people do not change, then Ezekiel is not held responsible. Not only is Ezekiel to challenge the wicked but he is also to be a prophet to the virtuous. If virtuous people turn away from virtue and Ezekiel does not warn them, then God will hold him responsible for their death. However, if Ezekiel does warn them, then the virtuous will surely live and Ezekiel will also save his life (3:16-21). This same de-scription of the prophet's role is repeated in Chapter 33:1-9. In explor-ing the image of prophet as sentry as appropriate for the role of the re-ligious in the world today, this article will first examine the role of the sentry, and then how this role might illuminate the role of religious in 676 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 the Church today. The Role of the Sentry The role of the sentry has four characteristics which I believe help explicate the mystery of the call to religious life. Call to See. The sentry's first responsibility is to see, to be watch-ful. This seeing is twofold: to announce the signs of good news and to warn of coming danger. The sentry is to be watchful for the signs of good news. For exam-ple, the sentry on a ship watches for the sign of land; the sentry at the gate of a medieval city watches for the signs of the coming of a beloved monarch in order to prepare the people for this great event; or the sentry watches for the runner returning from battle to share the news of victory. The sentry also needs to be watchful of signs of danger. The sentry on the ship needs to be conscious of the signs of bad weather so that the crew can be prepared to respond; the sentry at the gate needs to be con-scious of the signs of an approaching enemy. Call to Discern. A second responsibility of a sentry is to discern signs. Is the approaching rider friend or foe? Is the moving wind the sign of an approaching storm or the advent of good weather? Is it land that is seen or a mirage, a trick of the imagination? This discernment is an important responsibility. If a sentry is fearful or shallow, then he or she will proclaim good news that does not come to pass, or give false warn-ings of events that fail to materialize. People will no longer take seri-ously any message of the sentry. Responsibility to Proclaim. Once the se~lt.r.y has discerned the signs, the next responsibility is to announce the good news or the approach of danger to the people. When he or she has completed this proclamation, the responsibility for action is no longer just the sentry's but the respon-sibility of the entire community--as we have seen in the call of Ezekiel. In fact, the role of the sentry may now become secondary to the role of others who move the community to ,action. One Role Among Many. A sentry is often on the margins of society, outof synchronization with the rest of society, even while interdepend-ent with them.~As the sentry is watching, others are busy about other activ-ities.~ To have a sense of security, the people have need of the sentry. However, the sentry cannot survive without the people who are doing other activities (e.g., producing food, clothing and the other necessities of life), The sentry is, then, one role among many---different, but nei- The Religious as Sentry / 67'7 ther more nor less important than the other roles in society. The Religious as Sentry How does the role of the sentry, and more specifically, the call of Ezekiel, help us to understand religious life in the Church today? I be-lieve that the four characteristics just described can help illuminate the mystery of religious life. Call to See. Religious are called to be attentive, to be watchful. They do this first and foremost as people of prayer. Prayer, of course, is not ¯ the occupation of religious alone--all Christians are called to pray. How-ever, one cannot be a good religious without prayer, without attentive-ness to the religious dimension of life. Contemplation (to see clearly) has traditionally been part of religious life, whether one speaks of the con-templative life as manifested in the monastic movement or contemplation-in- action as manifested in service-oriented religious orders. I believe this responsibility of being attentive and watchful is very important to relig-ious today. Clearly we need people to read the signs of the times. Prayer-ful religious can contribute this gift to the Church. Call to Discern. For the religious to see clearly, there needs to be discernment. The first step in this discernment is honesty with oneself in order not to project danger where there is none or to characterize as hopeful movements that are contrary to the Gospel. A sentry who is fear-ful or shallow will give false warnings and proclamations. Eventually peo-ple will cease to take his or her word seriously. The practice of self-knowledge (achieved through prayer, examen, spiritual direction, and similar helps) will be essential to the religious who hopes to see clearly and proclaim what is seen in a way that will truly build up the commu-nity of the Church and the world. Discernment is not an easy task. What is heralded as good news by some is seen as danger by others. We witness this, for example, in the various responses to the development of new technology. Some see in this advancement the liberation of humankind; others feel we are being enslaved and controlled by these same technological advances. Discern-ment is an important task in the Church today, a task in which religious clearly have a role. Responsibility to Proclaim. Once the signs have been seen and dis-cerned, the religious has the responsibility of proclaiming the message, that is, the word of the Lord. If religious are good sentries, they will be able to proclaim the good news (the signs of the reign of God) and warn of danger (signs of the counterspirit). Ezekiel is a good model for relig-ious in this proclamation. Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 First of all, Ezekiel, like all the prophets, denounces and announces; he afflicts the comfortable and comforts the afflicted. His book not only contains oracles that are warnings of danger to the Chosen People (4- 24), the nations (25-32), and the shepherds of Israel (34), but powerful statements of hope such as the vision of dry bones (37) and the raising of a good shepherd for Israel (34). Secondly, Ezekiel is a good model for religious because he proclaims the word of God in both words and symbolic action. His signs are par-ables in action. For example, Ezekiel performs acts symbolic of siege and exile (4-5); prepares his baggage and digs a hole in the wall of the city as an act symbolic of exile (12); groans bitterly to symbolize the city's coming fall(12); neglects the normal mourning customs at the death of his wife as symbolic of the fact that Israel will not be able to mourn when the city of Jerusalem is besieged (24); and, finally, joins two sticks as a symbolic prophecy of the new covenant people (37). These actions raise questions among the people which allow the prophet to proclaim the word of the Lord: "Will you not tell us what all these things that you are doing mean for us?" (24:19; 39:18). This proclamation of God's word by prophetic action is a valuable way of viewing our living of the vowed life. The vows are symbolic ac-tions that often open to religious the possibility of proclaiming a word of the Lord. Religious life is acted prophecy.3 The lived vows can warn of danger and proclaim good news. For example, the vow of poverty can warn of the dangers of consumerism and can challenge the prevailing be-lief that more is better. It can also proclaim good news. The sharing of common goods lived by religious, for example, can proclaim that shar-ing is a life-giving alternative to greed and exclusive possess!on. The sym-bolic action of living the vows will hopefully lead others to ask questions: "Why do you do this? . What does this mean?" Thus re-ligious will have an opportunity to further proclaim the word of the Lord. As I mentioned earlier, once the sentry has proclaimed what has b~en seen, it is no longer solely his or her responsibility to act. This is clear in the call of Ezekiel. The role of Ezekiel is to be the sentry, the watcher and proclaimer. The responsibility to act is the responsibility of the en-tire people. The important thing for the religious is to proclaim clearly the message of the Lord in our world today, even though religious can-not ¯ control the response to the proclamation. As Ezekiel is told: "And whether they heed or resist--for they are a rebellious house--they shall know that a prophet has been among them" (2:5). The call to religious, then, is to stand for certain values and to speak those values in word, The Religious as Sentry / 679 and especially in deed, so that people will know that a word of the Lord has been spoken in their midst. Would it not have a tremendous impact on our modern world if people would know that a prophet has been among them? One Role Among Many. Another characteristic of the sentry is to have a uniquely different role, a role that can be out of synchronization with the rest of society. The vowed life of religious often places them out of synchronization with others. In the past this uniqueness has been explained as a form of life superior to other Christian lifestyles. The im-age of the sentry helps us image the complementarity of different life-styles. To say that religious have a unique role in the Church and society is not to say that it is better or more important than the roles of others. By their gifts, religious contribute to the world, but they are at the same time dependent on the gifts and lifestyles of others. All contribute to the common good. In the past, to be a sentry often meant to live on the margins of soci-ety. Religious, too, have often moved to the margins of society. Relig-ious houses were set up on the fringes of the city or separated from the city in the desert or countryside. There is a need for this type of sentry today. But signs of good news and omens of danger are also in the midst of society. In our day, when we read about terrorist attacks almost daily, we know that the greatest danger may come from within the city gates themselves. Those who can harm us live in our midst. Therefore, there will be need for religious immersed in society to read the signs of God's reign, that is, the movement of the Spirit in the midst of the world. At the same time, they will need to read the signs of peril and danger, that is, of the counterspirit in the midst of the world. Conclusion I believe that reflection upon Ezekiel and his call as sentry can en-rich the vision of the prophetic role of religious in our day, can be for religious a new way of imagining their role. Many religious will ask whether they are worthy or capable of such a call. Most honest religious will feel unworthy, as did Ezekiel, who fell upon his face when he was called (I :28). To take up the challenge can only be in response to God's call. "Child of the earth. Stand up! I wish to speak to you" (2: I). The call of the religious will be a response to the Spirit moving within. This will be the source of the authentic voca-tion to be a sentry for God's people and for the world. Finally, since the call to be a sentry will be a call from the Lord, he will be with the relig-ious on the journey. "Fear them not," (3:10) the Lord tells Ezekiel. The 680 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 Lord tells religious today the same: He will be with the sentry today, as he was with Ezekiel, Jeremiah, Isaiah and the other prophets. "I am with you always, yes, even to the end of time" (Mt 28:20). NOTES ~Avery Dulles, S.J., Mddels of the Church (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1974). 2Lawrence Cada, S.M. et al., Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (New York: The Seabury Press, 1979), pp. I 1-50~ 3See my article "Religious Life as Acted Prophecy" REvmw ~OR REt.mIOUS 41, n. 6, November/December, 1982, pp. 923-927. ,From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Address: Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The Fathers in the Office of Readings: St. Cyprian of Carthage Anthony Daly, S.J. Father Anthony Duly has been a member of the faculty of the Languages Depart-ment of Saint Louis University. He has published several of these descriptive and brief biographies of Fathers of the Church who have been used in the Office of Read-ings of the Liturgy of the Hours. His last contribution appeared in the issue of Sep-tember/ October 1983. He may be addressed at Jesuit Hall; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. The third-century writings of St. Cyprian, bishop and martyr, are impor-tant today because they furnish otherwise unknown details of the life of both the Christians and pagans of his day and because they provide an illustration, hard to interpret though it is, of third-century African epis-copal attitudes toward the Roman papacy, a topic, however, which is not treated here. More directly, the writings reveal the character of St. Cyprian him-self, an interesting man with qualities people of any era can admire and imitate and who has many things to say which will never go out of date. What follows is first a brief overall sketch of St. Cyprian's life and then a more detailed account of certain matters which seemed likely to be of interest to readers of the Liturgy of the Hours. Well educated in the secular tradition of his times, Cyprian was a man who actively and thoroughly integrated his knowledge and experi-ence within a completely Christian ideology. He appears as an effective rhetorician, a competent bishop and administrator, a practical leader who knows how to make the best of a difficult situation, and a man of great personal charm, courage, and compassion. But perhaps his most strik-ing characteristic is his ability to face martyrdom, that of others and then 681 61~9 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 finally his own, not only with equanimity but even with joy and satis-faction. ~ The selections from his writings in the Liturgy of the Hours com-municate a spirit of firm religiosity which is rendered more attractive by human charm and more realistic by a moderate cast of mind. His mar-tyrdom adds to his words the weight of tested sincerity and makes more telling his exhortations to hope, courage, and joy. Thascius Caecilianus Cyprianus (c.205-258) was an African, born per-haps at Carthage, of wealthy pagan parents. He lived at Carthage where he was an orator and prominent citizen, and, like the more famous St. Augustine who for a time, but more than a century later, also lived in that North African city, Cyprian was a teacher of rhetoric. In midlife he took stock of his own character and of the repugnant pagan society in which he lived. This led him in the year 246 to become a Christian. He gave his money to the poor, took a vow of chastity, was ordained a priest, and in 248-49 he was consecrated bishop of Carthage. The ideal of personal integrity seems to have been what first attracted Cyprian to Christianity, an ideal which he found fulfilled for him there as a gift from God. He seems never to have lost it again, and secure in it, he began to devote himself to helping others. This was especially true as he performed his episcopal tasks of encouraging the faithful, teach-ing sound doctrine, and governing well, always seeking to preserve and foster the unity of the Church. But his desire to help others seems to have accompanied his conversion itself, for one of the first things he did as a Christian was write To Donatus, the purpose of which was to convert to Christianity his friend Donatus and others. Cyprian's election as bishop was unusual in that it occurred not very long after his conversion to Christianity. That the choice fell upon him seems to have been due to his obvious sincerity, his high standing in the local community, his eminent personal qualifications, and the fact that he had already published at least one and perhaps as many as three of his Christian writings.2 Although the exact process of his election is not known, it is clear that it involved the agreement of a majority of the clergy, of the neighboring bishops who assembled to ordain him, and of the laity who were his strongest supporters. Confidence in Adversity His episcopal career was stormy right from the time of his election as bishop. There were some who opposed selecting him, and among them were a certain Novatus and some other elderly presbyters at St. Cyprian of Carthage [ 683 Carthage, who, although they may have had other motives as well, prob-ably were jealous of Cyprian. Soon, in 250, the Roman emperor Decius instituted the first truly sys-tematic and universal persecution of Christians. Commissions were set up throughout the empire which were to witness certain acts of worship of the pagan gods which were to be performed by everyone as a relig-ious test. Some of the Ch?istians complied; others were able to secure official certificates of compliance (libelli) even though they had not in fact worshiped; still others refused to comply and were subject to impris-onment, torture, or even death. Cyprian was among yet a fourth class of Christians who avoided the confrontation by going into hiding. He was criticized for this, but, as he explained it, when the edict against Christians was promulgated, the pagan populace at Carthage called for him to be brought forward. He fled not so much for his own safety, he explained, but in order to avoid a public uprising which he feared would endanger his flock. He further explained that despite his physical sepa-ration he kept in close touch with his people by letter.3 Some of these communications are included in the collection of his extant letters. In this, in other episcopal decisions, and in the general conduct of his personal life, St. Cyprian displays remarkable self-confidence. In this episode, he gives his reasons for withdrawing from Carthage, expects them to be accepted, and does not seem at all embarrassed to return, show his face, and even to admonish in certain matters those who had suffered or were still in prison for the faith, the confessors. Cyprian found it necessary to warn the confessors not to try to usurp the role of the bishop in granting ecclesiastical pardon to those who had given in to the authorities, the lapsed. Not altogether unreasonably, the custom was gaining ground according to which some of the lapsed were securing from the confessors requests for full and immediate reinstate-ment in the Church, and these requests, either written or oral, were gen-erally being honored, thus gaining quasi-hierarchical authority. In addi-tion to cautioning the confessors in this matter, Cyprian also admonished them not to give in to softness and vice once their trials had ended. Cyprian'.s is an attractive self-confidence, not haughty, a self-confidence based on truth and courageous love. One wonders if it en-tailed an inner struggle for Cyprian; if so, it is part of his private life and is not reflected in his writings. The Novatian Schism Probably because the severity of the persecution was unpopular with most pagans, and because the courage of the martyrs was probably at- Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 tracting enough converts to make the persecution self-defeating, it was ended early in 251. At that point Cyprian was faced with a controversy over how the bishops and clergy themselves should treat the lapsed, both those who had obeyed the edict and sacrificed to idols, and those who had obtained fraudulent certificates, or libelli. Cyprian, who adopted moderate and individualized attitude toward those who had lapsed in these ways, was able to make his view prevail'. His guiding principle was that those guilty of serious sin should be given an opportunity to achieve genuine repentance, a state of soul which he thought a sinner could ex-perience only through undergoing a suitable period of penance. But at the same time he insisted that sin can in fact be forgiven and that no re-pentant person should be deprived of hope, that each should be readmit-ted to the Church at the appropriate time. Against Cyprian were both those who wanted everyone readmitted to the Church without further com-plication and those who advised that reconciliation with the Church be forever withheld from those who had fallen. Chief among the proponents of this last course of action were the No-vatianists, so called because they were followers of Novatian, a rigorist Roman bishop who claimed the papal throne. Because his claim was re-jected by the Church at large and because of his rigorism, he and his fol-lowers became schismatic, and their rival church, widespread through-out the empire, was not entirely reconciled with Catholics until the end of the seventh century. Baptism by Heretics Under the Emperor Gallus (25 ! -53) a second persecution took place which was itself followed, in the years 255-57, by another major con-troversy, this time over the validity of baptism administered by heretics, chiefly the Novatianists. The difficulty arose over whether those origi-nally baptized by Novatianists and others not in communion with the Church should be rebaptized when they were accepted into the Catholic communion. Cyprian championed the losing cause, maintaining that the baptisms administered by heretics had no value. He appears still to have been of this opinion when, under the Emperor Valerian (253-60), a third persecution cost him his life. Although the Church later determined that baptism administered by non-Catholics is valid provided certain elements are present, on the un-derstanding that it is Christ himself who truly baptizes rather than the in-dividual who happens to be administering the rites, the whole matter was not yet worked out in Cyprian's day. Clearly he too would attribute the effects of the sacraments to Christ, but in his mind heresy and schism, St. Cyprian of Carthage / 685 since they involve separation from the Church, are tantamount to reject-ing Christ. How, he reasoned, could someone who rejects Christ bap-tize in his name? By the same token, such a person "shall not come to the rewards of Christ," even if he suffers martyrdom.4 His position on the matter underscores the importance he placed on unity in the Church. In the year 258 Cyprian ended his life in stirring fashion, boldly em-bracing his martyrdom. The account of his death forms the alternate sec-ond reading of the Office of Readings on his feast day. It is celebrated on September 16, along with that of Pope Cornelius whom Cyprian sup-ported against the rival claimant to the papacy mentioned above, Nova-tian. Writings Cyprian's treatise On the Lord's Prayer furnishes the largest single group of selections from his writings in the Liturgy of the Hours. These are nearly matched in volume by extracts from his Letters, and the ma-terial is rounded out by single samples from several works: On the D?ess of Virgins, On the Value of Patience, On Man's Mortality, and the Ex-hortation to Martyrdom, Addressed to Fortunatus. Finally there is the description of his martyrdom by an unknown author, taken from The Pro-consular Acts. There are eight other works by Cyprian not included in the Liturgy. Of these, To Demetrianus is a work similar to the longer, more famous City of God by St. Augustine. Both works deny that Christians are to be held responsible for wars and natural disasters, and attribute them instead to the vices of the pagans. Another title of Cyprian's often likened to a writing of St. Augustine, in this instance the Confessions, is To Donatus, mentioned earlier, which describes Cyprian's conversion to Christianity from paganism. Here Cyp-rian rejoices in his new life which he attributes to the cleansing of sav-ing water and the effects of "a quickening act of divin~ grace." Through power given by God he has been enabled to abandon lavish banquets, expensive clothing, and public honors in favor of a private life, simple clothes, and thrift. Although he once thought he could never be rid of his sins which he had come to indulge as "proper and belonging to" him, he had left hard drinking behind, together with exaggerated self-importance, anger, covetousness, cruelty, ambition and lust. He empha-sizes that his new way of life is not to be attributed to himself, but to God.5 As has been mentioned, because it recounts Cyprian's conversion from sin through the power of God, and because he wrote it to help oth- 61~6 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 ers experience a similar conversion, To Donatus has been compared to the Confessions of St. Augustine. Nevertheless, there are three sharp dif-ferences between the two works. Most obvious is their difference in length, Cyprian's work being much shorter. Second, Augustine is spe-cific in recounting his sins and the steps by which he became a Chris-tian, whereas Cyprian summarizes his experiences in general terms. Third, Augustine addresses God directly in the Confessions and always emphasizes his personal love for God. Cyprian addresses his friend Do-natus; he attributes to God his newfound mastery over himself, but he does not dwell on his relationship with God. Instead, his attention cen-ters on treasuring his newly purified way of life and on contrasting it with the wickedness of the pagan society which he has left behind. Cyprian pities the world and gives thanks to God for having escaped from it with its robbers, pirates, wars, and gladiatorial contests.6 He be-lieves the themes of the tragedies presented in the theater corrupt private morals: parricide, incest, and adultery which "is learned as it is seen"; and these things are all the worse because they are presented with the approval of public authority. Men make themselves effeminate on stage, and Venus, Mars, and Jupiter are depicted as unchaste, Jupiter even ad-vancing to "the raping of young boys . Ask now whether he who looks upon this can be healthy-minded or chaste. One imitates the gods whom he venerates. For these poor wretches sins become even religious acts. ' ' 7 Further evils in society include homosexuality, prostitution, litigious-ness, bribery and collusion, fraud, forgery, perjury, and the falsification of charges. In court the wicked fare better than the innocent. To secure a place of prominence in society, men become sycophants, spendthrifts on public spectacles, or they build up estates, dispossessing the poor, and must live in fear of thieves and lawsuits.8 Cyprian recounts all of this in order to show the goodness of God who saves us from becoming wicked or vain.9 The Christian way to live in such a world is to raise one's eyes from earth to heaven, to be next to God in mind, to ignore what is seemingly sublime and great in human affairs, and to be greater than the world, for a religiously oriented way of life is a greater prize than anything the world has to offer. Five other works not included in the Liturgy of the Hours have fairly self-explanatory titles: The Lapsed, The Unity of the Church, Works and Almsgiving, Jealousy and Envy, and That the Idols Are Not Gods, a work sometimes considered spurious.~° A final work not used in the Liturgy is To Quirinus: Three Books of Testimonies. This treatise, which seems St. Cyprian of Carthage actually to represent two separate works by Cyprian which were com-bined later, perhaps by someone else, lists scriptural passages designed to show that the Christians h~ve inherited the promises made to the Jews, texts which illustrate the mysteries of Christ, and passages designed to show how to live the Christian life. Interpreting Cyprian Three aspects of the life of St. Cyprian seem particularly significant for interpreting and appreciating his writings: first, he was a rhetorician; second, he became a bishop; and then finally, he died a martyr. As a rheto-rician he knows how to use words to achieve the result he wants; but he uses them in a less literal sense than does a philosopher or a speculative theologian, and he gives more weight to various ideas and attitudes than would a disinterested writer who is unaffected by the press of circum-stances. Thus it is often necessary to consider carefully the context in which he is writing, and to subordinate the literal meaning of what he says to the effect he seems to be trying to achieve,, A bishop's preoccupation with his duty to guide, instruct, protect, and correct his people permeates the writings of Cyprian. In this office, it is obvious that he is motivated first and last by his love of Christ and the Church, and that he views everything else from a Christian perspec-tive. Constantly he shows good common sense and a sane grasp of the limits and potential of human nature. Finally, the atmosphere of hostility to the faith in which Cyprian ex-ercised his episcopacy'and which finally resulted in his death shaped and sharpened his vision of the world and how it is to be approached; this may well be the most important factor influencing his strong emphasis on eternal life. He quotes the Scriptures, both Old Testament and New, with a natu-ral ease which indicates true familiarity; having made a thorough study of them at the time of his conversion to Christianity, he seems to have continued this study throughout his career as a bishop. Quotations are always at hand to reinforce and embellish the points he wants to make. Among his works are the To Quirinus described above, and another col-lection of Scripture texts briefly mentioned as a work quoted in the Lit-urgy of the Hours, the Exhortation to Martyrdom, Addressed to Fortu-natus. Here, under twelve headings, are texts bearing generally on mar-tyrdom which a preacher or writer could use to encourage Christians liv-ing under the threat of persecution. Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 Literary Style Cyprian's style is clear, orderly, and often ornate, marked by a lib-eral but tasteful use of rhetorical figures such as parallel clauses whose grammatical structures are similar, phrases ending in the same sound, and the strategic repetition of words. His love of metaphors, some of which are quite engaging, is not obscured by translation into English. Vir-gins, for instance, are termed blossoms;~ like the emperor or one of his generals, God watches us doing battle with evil;~2 "the commands of the Gospel. are the rudder for keeping us on the right course";~3 and the Christian victorious over "earth's torment and suffering" is com-pared to a soldier returning home in triumph after defeating the enemy. ~4 On the Lord's Prayer This treatise, more than a third of,which has been included in the Lit-urgy ofothe Hours, has been praised throughout history as a fine com-mentary, certainly among the best non-technical ones ever written. Three points from the material in the Liturgy seem especially note-worthy. The first is Cyprian's insistence that prayer should have a social dimension: "We do not say 'My Father, who art in heaven,' nor 'Give me this day my daily bread'. Rather, we pray., not for one in-dividual but for all. For the people of God are all one." ~5 Second, there is Cyprian's sober awareness that we all sin every day and stand in con-stant need of sanctification. 16 A third point is Cyprian's stirring expres-sion of Christian steadfastness. When he speaks of accepting suffering and even death with Christ who suffered for us, we are reminded of the terrible hostility which confronted him and his fellow Christians.~7 Portions of the work not quoted in the Liturgy show that Cyprian's caution about the world is remarkably well balanced. This is especially true if the pagan culture in which he lived is fully taken into account. For instance, despite superficial similarity between pagan Stoicism and his remarks about rising above the world, Cyprian clearly shows that he does not underestimate the value of material creation; on the contrary, he advises us to pray that by the help of God we experience a harmony between the flesh an°d the spirit, the earthly and' the heavenly; and he un-derstands that Christ renews and preserves humanity. ~8 ~;imilarly, in his warning about the entangling effect of riches, Cyprian may have been more emphatic than he would otherwise have been because he realized that the thought of losing property kept many from confessin~ Christ dur-ing the persecution. 19 Off the negative side, the work includes an embar-rassingly strong and wholesale condemnation of the Jews; Cyprian goes so far as to say that they can no longer call God their Father, since they St. Cyprian of Carthage / 689 rejected and killed Christ.2° On the Dress of Virgins The final work to be considered here is On the Dress of Virgins, ex-cerpts from which make up the second reading in the Common of Vir-gins. (There is an alternate second reading taken from the Decree on the Renewal of Religious Life of the Second Vatican Council.) In the excerpts (chs. 3-4, 22, 23) St. Cyprian describes virgins adorned with right conduct as beautiful, as "the image of God that re-flects the holiness of the Lord," and as "the most illustrious members of Christ's flock." He interprets the virginal life as beginning to be "now what we shall all be in the future," in the kingdom of heaven, he means, where there is no marriage. As a matter of fact, Cyprian's thought goes even further. He sees virginity as a part of the image of the heavenly man, Christ, to whom we are encouraged to conform ourselves. Virgins are "equal to God's angels." ~ Humbled by the thought of them, and not, he says, in a spirit of cen-sure or even of authority, but out of concern for them, he exhorts them to "persevere in chastity and virginity." Having renounced the pleas-ures of the flesh, "they should not strive to adorn themselves or give pleasure to anyone but the Lord." In this way, having passed "through this world without the world's infection," they "will receive a glorious prize" for their virtue.2~ The passages from this treatise which are included in the Liturgy of the Hours express sound and encouraging attitudes good for all time; some of the material not included sounds strange to modern ears. This material, because it is historically conditioned on the one hand or rheto-rically condemnatory on the other, is harder to understand. . Although the excerpts seem to concern women rather than men, else-where in the treatise Cyprian states that he intends .his general remarks for "men as well as women, boys as well as girls, every sex and every age."22 This does not mean, however, that he viewed men and women as equal in every respect, or even that he disagreed with the traditional Roman view of women as the weaker sex. For instance, regarding mar-tyrs in The Lapsed, he says, "Joining.~the victory of their men, come the women too, triumphing over the world and over their sex alike."23 So too, he uses as an. argumeht on behalf of virginity that it frees a woman not.only from the pains of childbirth but also from the dominion of a husband.24 On the warrant of Scripture Cyprian insists that physical adornments should be rejected by virgins, who should strive to please God rather than 690 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 men.25 Furthermore, women are to avoid being an occasion of sin for men.26 Even if a woman has wealth, it is false to argue that she should make use of it to improve her physical appearance; rather, things "that have been acquired in the world and will remain here with the world, should be despised (contemni) just as the world itself is despised."27 In-deed, virgins should be like martyrs in that they should avoid the "wide and broad roads" in favor of the "hard and steep path which ascends to glory," for the devil uses allurements and pleasures "that he may kill.' ,28 Today many would consider the judicious and modest use of makeup simply a part of formal dress. From this point of view Cyprian's invec-tive against necklaces, earrings, makeup, and red articles of clothing seems overdrawn. But for Cyprian such things are not innocent. Not only for virgins but for all women makeup and earrings are, to his mind, in-ventions of the devil: "the work of God and his creature and image should in no way be falsified;., everything that comes into existence is the work of God. whatever is changed, is the work of the devil."29 The difference between today's view and his seems to stem neither from licentiousness in us nor from prudishness in him, but from Cyprian's an-cient cultur

Issue 46.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1987. ; Self-Awareness and Ministry Gender, History, and Liturgy Humanity's Humble Stable God's Love Is Not Utilitarian Volume 46 Number 6 Nov./Dec. 1987 Rv:vw.w t:o~ R~,~olous (ISSN 0034-639X), published eve~ two months, is edited in collaboration with lhe faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Lx~uis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. R~vu-:w ~:o~ R~:.~.~t~ous is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. Ol987 by R~-:wt.:w ~:o~ R~.~.~ous. Single copies $2.50. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $11.00 a year: $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~:v~v:w roa R~:t.mmtts: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Nov./Dec. 1987 Volume 46 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to wm R~:t.t(:totJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:vt~:w wm R~:tot~;totJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Four Ecclesial Problems Left Unresolved Since Vatican II Martin R.Tripole, S.J. Father Tripole is an associate professor of th.eology at St. Joseph's University; Phila-delphia, Pennsylvania ! 913 !. He,wrote "Suffering with the Humble Chi'ist" for the March,April 1981 issue of this periodical. Catholic scholars have been.talking about crisis in the Catholic Church for so long a time now that almost everyone has gotten used to it. In fact, too many people have been saying there is a crisis for anyone to ignore the situation. But not everyone uses the term. It depends on whom you tall~ to. Until recently, the higher you went in the Church, the less likely you were to find admission of crisis. For example, Bishop Ja~mes Malone of Youngstown, Ohio, former president of the National conference of Catho-lic Bishops, submitted a report to the Vatican in the summer of 1985 on the state of the Church. in the United States since Vatican II, a report made in preparation for the Extraordinary Synod of Bishops that met in Rome November 25-December 8, 1985.:In his. report, Bishop Malone stated the Church in the United S(ates is "basically sound." The bishop made no mention of cri~is; instead he talked of "confusion" and "abuses" and "false ideas'" and "diffiC'ulties" in various areas of church life.~ While many praised th~report, it was also criticized as "looking at the Church in the United States through 'rose-colored glasses.' "2 But another high-level member of the clergy has no difficulty speak-ing of crisis. Joseph Cardinal' Ratzinger,. prefect of the Sacred Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith, surely one of themost powe~rful of-ficials in tlie Vatican, made the ~tiscussion of crisis in the Church today 801 Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 the c.entr~l theme of his Ratzinger Report. This 1985' publicati6r~ of an exclusive interview given to an Italian journalist caught the attention of everyone and produced much controversy, in'view of the cardinal's strong views on the Church, as well as the fact that he published them just before the extraordinary synod was to be held. Ratzinger and his in-terviewer discourse at length on "a crisis of faith and of the Church," of "an identity crisis" in priests and religious, a "crisis of trust in the dogma," a "crisis of confidence in Scripture," a crisis "of the moral-ity. "In his summation of "the gravity of the crisis" in the Church since Vatican II, Ratzinger's tone is markedly different from Bishop Malone's. The interviewer cites views written by Ratzinger ten years earlier and con-firmed by him for the Report as still valid: It is incontestable that the last ten years have been decidedly unfavor-able for the Catholic Church . What the popes and the Couhcil Fa-thers were expecting was a new,Catholic unity, and instead one has en-countered a dissension which--to use the words of Paul Vl--seems to have pasg~d over from self-criticism to self-destruction . it has ended in boredom and discouragement . one found oneself facing a progressive process of decadence . [and] erroneous paths whose catastrophic consequences are already incontestable.3 Nevertheless, when the bishops came together at the extraordinary synod, they spoke of sharing in "mankind's present crisis and dramas" and of the "spiritual crisis., so many people feel" today, but not of an, y crisis of the Church as such. Less exfflt6d Catholic leaders, theologians, and publishers readily speak of crisis in the Church. The Rev. Robert Johnson, president of the National Federation of Priests' Councils, in 1985 stated: Priesthood is in crisis. The vocation of the ordained priest is not what it used to be. The data tells us that. Our own experience tells us that also. There is a crisis in numbers. At its zenith in 1970, the diocesan priesthood .in the United States numbered some 37,000. By the year 2000, it is estimated that this population will be 16,000 or 17,000. This would represent a declin.e of some 54%. i in the year 2000 we will have roughly the same number of priests we had in 1925. Meanwhile, the people we were ordained to serve will have quadrupled.4 Edward C. Herr, in a report on "The State of the Church," in 1985 stated that, whereas in a similar report in 1983 there were "hopes that a relatively stableoand tranquil period" was about to arrive in the Church, he must now report those hopes were "naive," that "the tensions and turmoil have increased and show no signs of ebbing."4A He reports the Four Ecclesial Problems recent findings of Dr. William J. McCready, program director of the Uni-versity of Chicago's National Opinion Research Center (NORC), that "a third of the 52 million Roman Catholics in America rarely or never go to church."5 Herr cites an article by James Hitchcock, professor of his-tory at St. Louis University, which lis~ed a catalo~g of ~'problems facing the Church in America" today: REligious orders openly pro.moting dissent Official Church agencies providing platforms for dissent ~"Radical redefinition of the traditional religious vows" Tolerance of "known violations" of chlibacy Growing influence of "militant homosexual network" in seminaries and religious orders Almost total collapse of seminary discipline "Probably a large majority of Catholic colleges hnd universities have become bffectively secular" Widespread deviations from "official liturgical norms" Majority of Catholic students no longer receive an adequate grounding in their faith Bishops and priests "largely refrain from teaching ,, disputed doctrines.' ,6 ~' Herr also reports the views of Richard Schoenherr, soc'iologist and asso-ciate dean at the University of Wisconsin at Madison in 1985, on "a cri-sis for the Church by the year 2000." Acc6rding to Herr, Schoenherr presents ~ a bleak picture of the Church-at the turn of the century. Opportunities to attend Mass will be fewer since each priest will have to serve 4,000 Catholics in a burgeoning Church; laity,.tired of a subordinate position in the Church, will withdraw from active leadership while those who do continue to serve will be laden with greater responsibility . There will be "an organizational crisis of immense proportion," accord-ing to Schoenherr, with an "ehormous youth drain in theministry," and with more "resigned" than active priests in the United States.7 Norbertine Father Alfred McBride, president of the University of Al-buquerque, also predicts a "ministry crisis" in 2000. He foresees a to-tal of 30,000 priests serving. 65 million Catholics.8 Finally., novelist Mor-ris West, author of many best-sellers on (~atholicism, is reported as see-ing the possibility of "a silent schism" in the Church of the future, as a result of "a defection of millioi~s by a-slow decline into indiffer-ence. ' ,9 Review, for Religious, November-December, 1987 The fact is: there has been talk of a crisis in the Church ever since the '60's--that per_iod which constitutes a kind of a turning point.in the life of the modern Church. That decade, from which date many of the issues whi~c,h 'trouble~the American Church today was equally a problemati~ decade for American society in gene,ra~l., and indeed for the world. In fact, the world is "officially" in a state of crisis---~f sorts. The bishops told us that at Vatican II when they stated the "human race is passing through a.new stag~ 0fits history" where it is undergoing "a true social and cultural transformation" causing a "crisis of gro~vth. "~0 The modern world is experiencing "new foLoas of social and p~sychologi-cai slavery" as well as "imbalances" that lead to "Mutual distrust, en-mities, conflicts, an~'hardships" (~audium el spes 4, 8). According to the bishops, this situation of crisis inevitably "has repercussions on man's religious life as~ well": it cause,s "spiritual agitation,"4"many peo-ple are shaken" in their convictions, and '~growing humbers~ of people are abandoning religion fin pr~actice" .(GS 5, 7). Later in the _same docu-ment, though in the context of a discussion on war and peace, the bish-ops speak of "the whole human family" as having "reached an hour of supreme crisis in its advance toward maturity" (GS 77). While the bishops at Vatican II did not go so far as to say directly that the Church was in a state of crisis, they certainly meant to say that the Church shared in the~crisis situation of the'world in ggneral. It was not long after, however, that writers.started speaking directly, of a crisis in the Church. We may note only a few. Father Andrew Greeley loudly proclaimed that as a fact in an important series of articles he published in diocesan newspapers in 1976; entitled "The Crisis in American Ca-tholicism" (and later in a book entitled Crisis in the Church),~ but the idea of ,the Church. in crisis had already quietly come into standard con-sideratiOn or was .soon to do so through the writings of such renowned historians, scrilSture scholars, and theologians as Raymond Brown, S.S. (B~blical Reflections on Crises Facing the C. hurch),~2 Richard P. McBr~en (he speaks of the "pre.sent crisis within the Catholic Church" in The Remaking oft~ Churcl~),~3 Avery Dulles, S.J. (fie sl~eaks of a "crisis of identity" in the Church in The Resilient Church), 14 and David J. O'Brien (h611spe~iks of the '~Catholic crisis," the "American crisis," and "an age Of crisis" in The Renewal of A. merican Catholicism).~5 Statistical~d~ta since the end of Vatican II--th~e latest reports of An-drew Greeley's National °Opinion Research Center in Chicago,~6 from George Gallup Jr.'s continuing analysis of the state of the Catholic Church in America,~7 and from the Notre Dame Study of Catholic Par- Four Ecclesial Problems /805 ish Life~8--provide overwhelming evidence, as far as statistical data is able to do so, that the American Catholic Church is in a state of crisis. ¯ Evidence: American Catholics no longer accept official teaching of the Church simply,on the basis of the fact that it is official teaching; Catho-lics no lbnger go to church, as much as ~hey used to, to fulfill their Sun-day obligation or from ~i sense of duty; they ~ai'e not contributing to the sti~iport of the Church.in a way consonant with their earnings; they are o~penly criticizing the Chui'ch in a way" that seems to i'epresent a new ¯ sense ol~ independence over agains~t the institutional Church" and its offi- Cial teachers. What is going on, and when will it end? Causes of Crisis Since Vatican II ,Numerous publications have been~ritteri since Vatican II seeking to determine the causes of the crisis Which has beset the Church since~that time. The fact is, the ca~iases are manifold, and only a, lhrge t0ine could hope to anal~,ze and cover them all thoroughl)~. What I attempt here is -'C0: fbcus on what I shall call four unresolved antinomi~ek which are re-flected in the thinking and practices of the Church since Va[i~an II. My point is to argue that the bishops at Vatican II not o~nly were aware o,f, but shgred in,. the theologically, antinomous viewpoints which have largely served to. polarize the Church sin.ce~ the end of the Council.° Though there is~ some exaggera~tion in categorizing these viewpoints quite simplyas conservative/traditionalist and liberal/progressivist, I shall do that for want of better terms, and also because the viewpoints do .tend to be of these two types. Though these terms have a political and ideo-logical connotation, their use here is not meant to imply that. What we,mean.by the use of these terms is that there are two oppos-ing movements working in the Church today. The first is inclined to want ,to preserve elements today which were also characteristic of the life of the Chtirch ~before Vatican II,-elements such as hierarchical authority, clerical priority, and institutional identity;~the second is more inclined toward~elements which arose in the life of the Church since Vatican II, elements such as democratic~procedures, equality of membership, unity based on shared convictions and shared authority. ,Neither group is. to-tally opposed to the values identified with the other, except at the outer fringes. Thus~extreme traditionalists---c~illed reactionaries wish no part of what~the Church since Vatican II has come to be identified with; ex-treme liberals~alled radicals--reject automatically whatever was promi-nent in the Church before Vatican II and yearn for a congregationalist type of community. For the larger membership in both groups, the prob- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 lem is mainly one of emphasis: which set of values, which viewpoint should ,be the dominant one in the .life of the Church?. That question of emphasis is a serious one. In spite of the fact that it is only a question of emphasis, it leads in practice to polarization. Re-cent events in .the .life of the Church.have increased this experience of polarization rather than diluted it, mainly because the traditionalist camp, which had largely fallen into the ~silent majority in ~the Church .in the post- Vatican II peri0d, has gained a new sense of power in the last ten yehr~s. The struggle between these two, groups is now, in my opinion, at the most intense point of conflict the Church has felt since the early pp,s~t- Vatican II days of the Church. What, if anything, can be done to reduce this polarization? I wish in this article only to point to what I consider the four major areas of po-larization which were left unresolved by Vatican II. They continue to re-main largely unresolved by the post-Vatican II Church, even after the Ex-traordinary Synod of 1985, and they need to be resolved before the po-larization can b6 overcome:~I~ t me discuss each of these areas singly_, and at some length:. Saci~ed ~vs."Si~cular ' The" Catholic Church has had a strong sense of social responsibility throughout the modern era., as shown in a history of concern forrectify-ing inhumane workihg conditions, unjust wages, and unfair labor prac- .tices, starting at least with Leo XIII's Rerum Novarum: On the Condi-tioh of Workers (1891). Nevertheless, there is no doubt that a new and profound theological significance has been given to the role of the Church in regard to such matters since Vatican II. Prior to Vatican II, social activity was generally considered to be peripheral to the primary ¯ work o(the Church, to administer the s~icraments and preach the gospel of salvation in Christ. With Vatican II, the Church seemed to be saying that the .social apostolate was as important to the life of the Church as these two other activities. .A major transformation in the relationship of the Church to the world got underway at Vatican II. The .Chur~hnow saw itself not only right-fully but also dutifully bound to bring the insight and power of the gos-pel into the .arena of world problems, in the hope of changing th~ un-holy conditibns and direction of the life'of the world from within. Church concern for such issues was obvious ifi the countless conventions and publicat!ons on social, political, and moral issues that sprang up in the post-Vatican II era. Most notable was the conference by the Latin Ameri-can bishops at Medellin, Colombia, in 1968, which registered a strong Four Ecclesial Problems / 807 commitment by Latin American bishops to Overcoming the problems of the poor and oppressed in their countries; and the international Synod of Bishops in Rome in 1971, which published the historic document Jus-tice in the World, which, "Scrutinizing the signs of the times.ai~d seek-ing to detect the meaning of emerging history," concluded that "Ac-tion 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, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemp-tion of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situ-ation." 19 One of the 9learest examples of how important the new thrust into social and political matters would be forthe American Church may be seen from a 1981 publication of the U.S. Catholic Conference enti-tledA Compendium of Statements of the United States Catholic Bishops on the Political and Social Order. It takes 487 pages to cover the docu-ment~ ition from 1966 .to 1980, which includes statements on "war and peace, development, and human rights," as ~eil as "~tbo~tion, birth con-trol, Call to Action (the U.S. Bishops' Bic~htennial Consultation on So-cial Justice), crime'and punishment, economic issues, family life, free-dom of religion, housing, immigrants, labor disputes, minorities, race, rural America, and television."2° More recently the United States bish-ops have taken forthright and controversial stands ori the matters of war and peace and the American economy,'the former in their pastoral.letter The Challenge of Peace: God's Promise~and Our Response (May 3, 1983), the latter in their Economic Justice foroAll~" Catholic Social Teach-ing and the U.S. Economy (November 13, 1986). In each case the bish-ops argue to. the implications of the gospel message, singling out the im-morality of nuclear warfare or the scandalous operations, in the Ameri-can economic system. The full implications of these strong teachings have yet to be determined. ~, All of this would be cause fo'~ unmitigated joy, were it not for the fact that with. this new emphasis UpiSn the social implications of the Gos-pel, something transcendent in the' gospel teaching may have been lost. One :of the major problems in the life of the.Church since Vatican II, according to the bishops at the Extraordinary Synod of 1985, has been the lack of recognition and acceptance of a sacral or theological depth to the Churcti's life--what the synod calls the "mystery" of the Church. The bishops .take responsibility for the fact that this dimension of Churcfi life has been undermined, especially among young people, by a too secu-lar conception of the .Church as a mere human institution. The bishops assert: ~ I~Oll / Review for Religious~ ~November-December, 1987 , a unilateral'presentation of:the 13hurch as a purely institutional structure devoid of her mx.stery has been made. We~are probably not immune from all respon, sibility for th.e fact that, especially the young consider the Chur~ch a pure institution. Have we not perhaps favored this opinion in them by speaking ~too much of the i'enewal Of the Church's external struc-tures and too little of God a'hd of Christ? The bisl~ops admit ~that in their eagerness to open the. Church to the ~,orld they h, ave~qot suffici,ently di~tinguishe.d legitimate openness to the world from a secularization of the Church by the world: From time to time there has also been a lack of the~discernment of spir-' its, with~the failure to correctly distinguish between a legitimate open-ness of the council to the world and ~the acceptance of a secularized ¯ world's mentality and order of~values, . . . An easy accommodation that could lead to the secularizmion of the Church is to be excluded. /(ls0 excluded is an immobile closing in upon itself of the community of the faithful. Affirmed instead is a'missionary openness for the inte-gral salvation of the wo~ld.21 ~ Part of the problem has been the Church's eagerness to,enter the social arena with calls for social justice. While it is vital to the Church to em-phasize ~an active concern for social issues, the Church's concern for these issues should not become so great that it loses sight of .the fact that its deepest life is lived in "mystery" as the Church o_f God, and that the Church is ultimately made,up of the community"of the redeemed in Christ serving his mission of salvation: The primary mission of the Church, under the impulse of the Holy Spirit, is to preach and to witness to the good and joyftil news of the election, the mercy and the charity of God which manifest themselves in salvation history, which through Jesus Christ reach their culmination in the fullness of time and which communicate and offer salvation to man by virtue of the Holy Spir.it. Christ is,the light of humanity. The Church, proclaiming the Gospel, must see to it that this light clearly shines out from her.countenance (ibid., p. 446). Social activism without that sacral 'dimension risks becoming purely secu-lar and human; such activity is totallymconsistent with the life of the Church, however good such acti~ism might otherwise be. To the extent that secularization in its various forms has happened in theChurch since Vatican II, something.inconsistent with what the Church should be arisen .in the community. To restore, a proper~balance, the Church .needs.to'reaffirm the primacy of its religious commitment, and to let that commitment shine before the Four, ,Ecclesial Problems, world.Only.,in the clarity of that commitment conveyed to the.world through its members is it able to seek effective ways of changing the world. These in turn must see themselves as having a primary mission to prove to the world the validityof the sacra~l o trranscendent dimen-sion of life as conveyed in the mission of Chrisi. ~n this respecti0ne not ov~erestimate the importance of Vatican II's and' the s~,nod's ne~ly developed and reaffirmed theology 6f the~ laity~ by Which thdrole of the laity in the.promotion of Christian and human values in.,the wo~ld is heightened ai~d theologically validated. Christians need also to find a way to counte~ract, the.increasing intru-sion ~of the power of the secul.ar into their. 9wn lives. To my mind, there is.no ,way for the Church more dramatically and decisively to restore the primacy, of the faith experience to Christian diving than emphatically to reassert its importance in the personal commi,tment to Christ. The "pas-sion"-, for Christ and the commitme~.t, to God's plan for the world in Christ .have too often been put on the back burner as we enter into the discussion of the problems of the world and seek to resolve them from within, using the naturalistic and,humanistic standards and instruments of action the world is often quite willing at least in,the~i~y to accept. But these are not enough for the Church. We must once again~become "p.as-sionately" committed to Christ and his purposes, and openly manifest to the world that it is primarily these for ~tii~h we stand, If the transcendent dimension, to life is rea!ly crucial to the well-being of the world and~therefore must bepreserved, it will have to come from deeply religiously-committed Christians. For them to be found in any great number, however, a new zeal for Christ and his purposes must be restored. The Church, and especi.ally its leaders both lay and religious, have no greater challenge today. Whether the zeal. necessary to restore the sense of the religious dimension to life in the,world chn be found, however, is not easily answered. Somehow we Christians shall have to enter more deeply into Ourselves, to find out if we really, share strongly a commitment tO Christ and his visi0fi °of the world and ~re willirig to make ~the sacrifices demanded o~°us as we enter into /~ ~riaarketplace al-ready increasingly intolerant of his vie~. W~"shall not~have the impact necessary to the success of the Christian vision merely,, by exporting Chris-tian values in a secularized form. The world does not need to know there is a need for justice nearly so much as it needs t6 kno.w that justice is a dimension of the faith experience in Christ.To seek to alleviate the cries of the poor in social action is really~not the, Christian~mission; rather, our mission is to bring to the poor the vision of~hrist, con- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 sciously known and passionately calling all people to a commitment to him and to the consequences of that commitment in a life of faith and service. Innovation vs. Traditi6n Th~re is a second, inner-Church conflict to be resolved: between the new and the _old, between innovatidn and tradition. Vatic~'n II met at a crucial point in the life of the Church, when Catho-lic liberal~ were calling for reform while the conservatives wanted to stand by tradition. The bishops who came together represented both view-points. In the final documents they deliberately attempted ~ to draw to- . gether elements from th~ thinking 6f both. camps, hoping to blend their opposing viewpoints.enough to satisfy the desires of each. Apparently both sides were willing to accept compromise. Both also recognized that total consistency was impossible at that time there was simply not enough time to work out the niceties of perfect harmonization, nor was it necessarily desirable. It surely"was expected that the ongoing life of the Church, especially in the work of the theologians under the direc-tion of the bishbps, would work out any incongruities or inconsistencies in thought or prac'tice that ~ight be left over from the Council. And so the Council ended. But as one reporter put it: Yet the Counci'l's efforts to assimilate modernity and still be true to a 2000-year tradition also created the potential for vast misunderstanding. The Council called upon the Church to uphold, simultaneously, freedom and orthodoxy, culturalopenness and identity, change and continuity, modernity and tradition, hierarchy and participation. That is a tall or-der. 22 Avery Dulles, S.J~,.,asks the question that emphasizes the inevitability of the p~:o.b_lem.: Can a Church that simul.taneously moves in thes~ contradictory direc-tions. keep enough homogeneit~y to remain a single social body? . . . Can the Church adopt new symbols, languages, structures and behav-ioral patte .ms 6n a massive scale without losing continuity with its own origins and its ow.n pa~t? (ib!d.) Any break from tradition for any organization necessarily leads to con-fusion. But this would have been a problem even more for the Catholic Church because the break was so abrupt.and deep. Before the Council, many Catholics had~ accepted ex.aggerated acquiescence to unchange as a theological truism, with little or no sense of the role_of history in. the formation'of dogma and Church practice: Because all Church statements Four Ecclesial Problems / I~11 hadotended to be regarded as dogma unquestioningly to be accepted, obe-diential deference to authority was orthodox; freedom ofthbught, unor-thodox independence. Suddenly, after Vatican II, what had been consid-ered un-Catholic was espoused as good Catholicism. Whereas acceptance of lohg-standing traditions was the n~irm for acceptableoCatholic living prior to Vatican II.; now freedom of thought and openness to new ideas and individual conscience became acceptable. This break with tradition, l~owever, was not simply a break from the old frr the neff, but a rever-sal from standards recognizing something as unacceptable to standards recognizing the same as acceptable and even desirable.,Thus ~0nfusion, disagreement, and fallout were inevitable. Also, it is inevitable t'h~t all this leads to a deeper question: what does it mean to be a Catholic and to have the faith? ' There i~ no doubt a wide spectrum of viewpoints regarding'the theo-logica! role of innovatiori vs. that of tradition, and What, if any, the proper combination ofothe two might be. But in certain areas there is cr'rn~ mon consensus and in other areas a lack of consehsus. There is growing consensus that the break with past traditions ~vas too abrupt and that there is a ;need,to retui'n to some past symbols an'd traditions withou~ renouncing everything new. At the time of the Ameri-can bicentennial, John Coleman, S.J., called for an ""open-ended re-sourcement," a dialogue or "creative engageme,nt" between the tradi-tional Catholic sYmbols and new ones that wouldopen up. or adapt to "new purposes, experiences and questions" in an integrating "process of g~:owth."23 More recently, Greeley has also called for a return to the "experience~' and-"imagination" .ofoour "Catholic her!tage" so re-cently abandoned as either irrelevant or impeding ecumenism or incom-patible with the modem world. Greeley understands Catholicism .to,stress the "sacramental" presence of the divine in Christian living, and says that this sacramental "religious style" should now be recognized as of the "essence" of the Catholic "insight," andan invaluable feature of the Catholic approach to religio.n.24 ,~There is growing consensus that there is widespread ignorance of the fundamental teachings of Christianity, especially among Xhe young, and that the problem must be addressed quickly. In an effort ~to make Chris-tianityrelevant to our lives, we shifted too quickly from the rigorous for-malism of the catechism and the memorization of. its teachings to dia-log'oe about the lived experience of the faith. What we lost was a solid understanding of what that faith believed, What is called for today is not necessarily the catechism method, but wtiatever method(s) may be nec- Review for Religiousl November-December, 1987 essary .to restore'to its rightful place knowledg6 about the history of sal-vation in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. A common foun-dation'in,, faith teachings may make it. possible to fost.er conviction, com-mitment, and action. ~ There is lack of consensus on the role of authority in the Church; on the role of the clergy, as well as the Church itself, in social and political activity; and on the degree of freedom to be allowed to personal con-scienc.~ e, espec,ially in matters that do not pe~ain directly to formal dogma in the Church, such 9s moral theology and mattgrs of sex. However rig-orous! y.~,~.ne might uphold the tea, chings of the Church on artificial c~?n7 tracept~ion., few would consider the Church's teachings on the matter as infallibly proclaimed. If that is the case, what degree of disagreement. o if any, is per.missible? In such cases, how much room i~ to be given for private conscience, or for public teaching not fully in accord with offi-cial pronouncements of the Church? VatiEan II clearly gave great weight tO~the right of personal conscience and to scholhrsh!p regarding nonin-fallible teachings, but how far did it intend these°rights'to go? Innova-tors tend toward absolute freedom on noninfallible teachings, traditioii'- ~lists° toward compliance even there. Thes.e,ideologica! disagreements cofistitute adeep source of divisioff in the Chi~rch .today, and represent today's ~xperience of what it means wheri the old clashes with the new~ The Church has yet to come up with a~th~blogy thgt can provid6 an adequate e~clesiology to handle this prob- Compatibility Vs~ Contradiction with,,the World ° There is a third ,problem not adequately resolved by Vatican II; which returns once again to'th~e:relationship of the Church to the world: the prob-lem between compatibility of.the Church with the world ~ahd contradic-tian with it? Prior to VatiEan II, the Church had never published an official docu-ment expounding,a posiiive theology on the'r01e of the Church,-in the world. Traditionally, the world had been an arena of evil or temptation to evil. ISatholics were urged to.remove themselves from the.world if they wished to ,attain sanctity, and the priestly and religious life were com-monly acceptrd as means to that end. Those who needed to become, in: volved in the Wodd;~choosing to remain laypersons,' were allowed to ~be in the world, but .were expected to' be as unworldly as possible in0the midst of the world: Evefi though Christians learned very well how to, live in~ the world by accepting ,itk ~,alues,~ and acquired the world ~s commodi-ties as instruments of well-being and standards of0success,.this accom- Four Ecclesial Problems modi~tion was often done with a feeling of guilt. That the world Was bad was based on the clear teaching of Christ: his followers did~not belong to the world, the world hated the'm, Christ did not take them out,of the wbi'ld but asked the"Father to "guard them from the evil one" in' the world (Jn 17:14-15) until they would one day be united with the Father in heaveh. ~ Now with Vatican II, the Church turned toward the world and, in many ways, accepted th~ world for the first time. Th6 Council Asserted the Church's "sOlidarity with the entire human family," that "nothing genuinely human" is foreign to Christians, that the "joys and the hopes, the griefs hn~l the anxieties of the men of this are" are those of the fol-lowers ofChrist too (LG 1-3). The Council urged Christians to build up the world because "the triumphs of the human race are a sign of God's greatness dnd the flowering of His own haysterious design" (34). In a remarkable affirmation of the value of secular activity, the Cou0cil "ac-knowledges that human progress can serve man's true happiness" (37) and that, insofar as "Earthly progress., can contribute to~the better ordering of human society, it is of vital concern to the kingdom of God" (39). The Council admits~ the world can be "an instrument of sin" and that a "monumental struggle against the power of darkness pervades the whole history of man" (37). Nevertheless, when all is said and done, the emphasis is clearly optimistic--so much so that, when~Karl Barth came back from his visit to Rome during the Council's first session, he expressed a fear the bishops were bbcoming too optimistically oriented toward the World and suggested they take a miare guarded position. And so the question remains: Is the world a good thing, to be ac-cepted and integrated inio the life of the Christian, or isqt to be rejected because it is infected with sin? The Council urged both; 6f course, but failed to indicate how both were possible, or how and where to draw the line limitinginvolvement~: More importantly, however, the new spirit bf the Coiancil had clearly left the impression that theworld a's a whole had been sanctioned as a .giaod thing :and that, with Christian and human co-operation and goodwill, there ~vas no reason why the Church and'the World could not easily become assimilated to each other. The question ofqntegration into the life of the world versus opposi-tion trthe world in favor of Christian values'is not a re'rent one. As.Ger-main Gri~ez recently pointed out, much of the history of Christianity can be seen in terms of a "tension between legitimate ~ispirations frr human and this-worldly fulfillment and God's c~ll to divine and everlasting life.'" Depending upon the emphasis that is greater at any 0h~ torment Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 in Christian thinking, the tendency may be to emphasize "disrespect for the 'merely,' human" and emphasize fulfillment in God, or, as seems to be. happening ~toda);, to emphasize a reaction against other-worldly spiri-tuality, a reaction which has '~crystal!ized into various forms of secular humanism." VaticanlI failed to take a stand on this issue, according to Grisez, or more precisely, not knowing how to resolve the tensign be-tween the two tendencies, glossed over them "with ambiguous formu-las." Instead of acknowledging their inability to resolve the problem and implementing a postconciliar process to work on it, the Council Fathers, caught up themselves in the spirit of optimism generated by John XXIII, chose to try to "maintain ,the appearance of unity" and solidarity on this issue and departed. Afterwards, liberals and conservatives began to read in the documents exactly what each had been looking for and ignoring the. opposite, and used whatever political means were available to have their own position dominate. The need now, according to Grisez, is to face up, to the divisions and try to resolve them.25 Others have stressed very pointedly that the orientation of the world today is strongly toward values quite inconsistent with Christian values. The world today is bombarded by powerful influences from the media, which emphasize for commercial purposes a humanism void of religious direction, which preach success in terms of materialistic values and goals such as accumulation of power and money, which proclaim fulfillment of self in terms of satisfaction of sexual drives rather than in love as per-manent commitment to the other, which evaluate persons in terms of utili-tarian norms, whiCh promote personal satisfaction as the criterion for the worth of all activity, which make the ultimate goal of life the achieve-ment of self rather than the donation of self. In such a ,world, there is inevitable contradiction between the values of the world and those of the Christian faith experience, where personal communion with Christ in a community of believers serving the well-being of all is. the standard of value. The humanistic orientation of a world without religious direction risks becoming ultimately a purely worldly humanism antagonistic to Christian values. For many, the opposition is so great at the .present time that, it seems to be moving toward total and absolute contradiction of the values of Christ. The Council Fathers, in recognizing the need to open the Church to the world, did not indicate strongly enough the nature or degree of this opposition, although it must be admitted 'that, even when they did indicate opposition, their words were largely ignored. But ~as Grisez indicates, the opposition is there and must.be faced. By failing to indicate strongly enough the contradiction between the values of the Four Ecclesial Problems / I~15 world and those of Christ, the Council Fathers unwittingly made accom-modation with the ways of the world that much easier. It is that accom-modation that the Extraordinary Synod of 1985 began totry to correct, but a clear theology of contradiction, is still needed. Active vs. Passive Church Life The last root cause of the problems left by Vatican II may be ex-plained in terms of Vatican II's failure to resolve the conflict between the active and passive dimensions of Christian life. A new spirit of involvement in social and political action, as we have seen, had been emphasized by the Council as an element intrinsic to the life of the Church. This spirit was highly attractive for many reasons: It was new and new things tend to attract; it was optimistic and people tend to like optimism; it was a free and open spirit cgnsequent upon the new theology of the laity, and .more appealing than the more traditional litur-gical and doctrinal elements in Vatican II; it spoke to a strong desire in the '60's to become actively involved in the processes of history rather ttrhaanns ftoor macaqtuioiens ocfe tihne twheomrld; itth naot tw oansl~y h purmovaindlyed e nthgeinoereertiecda,bl usut palpsoor jtu fsotir- a fied it as providing greater fulfillment of the human potential. In all these ways, this new element of "activism" contra~ted so much with the traditional call for restraint on involvement, and spoke di-rectly to many Catholics who were interested in joining the world in a combined divine-human creative.proje.ct. These were delighted to find there was theological justification and ecclesial approval for using one's talents in such a project. Personal involvement and responsibility for cre-ating one's own life in the world spoke more readily to the post-Vatican II age.than acquiescence in the decisions, actions, and authority of oth-ers. At least in the '60's, the mentality of the outspoken members of the Church was increasingly liberal, and the .idea of creating one's future rather than submitting to it was especially appealing to them. Vatican II sanctioned these ideas. It emphasized the theological importance of life in the world and active involvement in the cause of justice and equality, and was to give rise to a dominance after Vatican II of theological move-ments that stressed that same type of involvement. The Church was now also in a position to accept many currents rising in western Protestant cir-cles, such as the new theology of hope and political theology, the theol-ogy of revolution, and finally, in Catholic circles in South American, lib-eration theology. By emphasizing active involvement in creative transformation of the worid, Vatican II unfortunately seemed to downgrade th'e old and less Review for Rel~gious,~ November-December, 1987 captivating styles of spirituality, such as personal prayer, contemplation, and spiritual communion with God alone and in the quiet of one's room. It became increasingly difficult in modern Catholicism to justify a spiri-tual dimension to !ife unless it was translated into active change of the world. Spiritual terminology began to take on a purely active meaning: prayer, commitment to Christ, concern for the salvation of human be-ings '~ all these meant to be in active involvement in the world. Monas-tic theology and asceticism .were seriously questioned, for how could any-one iustify removing on~eself from the world when the only important thing wffs to change the world for the better? Those who dared to speak of contemplatio~n or asceticism in tli'e more traditional ways were often seen as outdated and to be pitied for their archaic ways. The new theol-ogy of spiritual activism slowly took over contrbl of the major or-ganizations in the Church: religious orders, diocesan and parish coun-cils, and other Catholic agencies~' and a new theology of social and po-litical activism translating most or all of Catholic spirituality into causes for peace and justice in the world held sway, The few who dared to criti- "cize these movements as one-sided were ignored. Ct~riously; the more this ~ctivism was promoted as the new and en-lightened foi:m of Christian living, the ~ore vocations to the priestly and religious life went down. The major exception to this trend~was in relig-ious orders, especially of nuns, where the stress On traditional piety was retained--here vocations continued to ~rise or remain stable. But few dared to suggest that this validated'in any way maintaining some room for more traditional contemplative and other-worldly forms of spiritual-ity. " Only recent!y has' it begun to dawn on many that activism without passivism is un-Christian. A spirituality that is t~otally activated tod, ard htlman creation of the world is inconsistent with Christian teaching, which, while s![essing human~involvement in God's creation 6f the king-dom; stresses even more that we are ~saved bec~iuse we have been saved in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We receive God,s kingdom far more than we create it. If that is the case, a Christian spirituality of ascetical contemplation is important to the Church because it lives as well as symbolizes the importance of this pass.!ve involvement in God's crea-tive process. Coleman ohce wrote: It is helpful to consider some of the cultural paradoxes in contemporary American Catholicism. In a nation n6ted for its one-sided, if not patho-logical, emphasis on activism, instrumental rationality, and opt'imistic pragmatism,, Catholic intellectuals seem to have suffered a bout of am- Four Ecclesial Problems nesia about their classic wisdom concerning contemplation, mysticism, pas.sivity, and receptive acceptance of inevitable and unavoidable lim-its. The Church. in its American incarnation has become almost ex-clusively masculine, with dominant concerns for action, success, build-ing the new e~trth and results (Coleman, p. 553). Christopher Mooney, S.J., argues that in America God rather than hu-man beings was always understood as "the power of our future," the one "from whom the nation had received its mission," and the one "~who works through the structures of society and manifests himself in publi~ affairs." Without that emphasis upon the centrality of God in his-tory, America will lose its sense of destiny.26 Dulles gives personal sup-port to those who argue that "the Kingdom of God is viewed in the New Testament as God's work, not man's," that the Church "is seen as ex-isting for the glory of God and of Christ, and for the salvation of its mem-bers in a life beyond the grave," and that in the New Testarfient it "is not suggested that it is the Church's task to make the world a better place to live in."27 Harvey Egan, S.J., argues that Christians today face "the serious temptation of worsh.iping political pressure groups, causes, move-ments, slogans, and ideo]ogies," and that their social involvement "de-generates into 'pseudo-activism' " unless it is built upon "authentic in-ner freedom, contemplative peace'; spiritual insight, the love born from prayer, integration, and inner transforrnati6n."28 " What we are asserting, then, is that Vatican II, in its effort to sanc-tion involvement in the life of the world as a legitimate dimensio~ of Christian living, unwittingly tended to downgrade the more contempla-tive, prayerful dimension of'Christian and Catholic spirituality. To that extent, Vatican II opened the doors too widely toward the world and pro-vided a gateway to the development of a secular humanism in contem-porary Catholic life. " Christian humanism without.a strong"spiritual foundation in a prayer-ful dependence upon God and his revelation in Jesus Christ is inevitably doomed to secularism. Once that stage is attained, it is inevitable that Christians begin to question whether there is any valid distinction be-tween Christianity and secular ac.tivism; andsince, once this aberration sets in, there is no real distinction between the two, it is only natural that many Christians find the faith experience unrewarding. It is only in the strength given Christianity by its passive dimension that its activist di-mension has any purpose or will to endure. Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 Conclusibn We have argued that at least in these four ways Vatican II left us a spirituality that is ambiguous, in conflict with itself, and undirected. This may indeed have been the Council's intention." To some extent, the Ex-traordinary Synod of 1985 served a valuable purpose in attempting to rec-tify these imbalances and ambiguities. It took twenty-five years to real-ize the bad effects and what needed to be corrected. Nevertheless, the ambivalences we have itemized .still reside in the Church and account for much of the conservative-liberal polarization of today. The next stage will be for the Church to reconvene and resolve the ambiguities. It will be an amazing and groundbreaking Council when it does. NOTES I "Vatican II and the Postconciliar Era in the U.S. Church," Origins 15, 15 (Sep-tember 26, 1985), pp. 225,233. 2 Vivian W. Dudro, "Toward the Synod: General Praise, Some Criticism of Malone Report," National Catholic Register 61, 39 (September 29, 1985), pp. l, 8. The reporter make~ reference to an expression used by Gerrnain Grisez, Professor of Chris-tian Ethics at Mount St. Mary's College, Emmitsburg, MD. 3 Joseph Cardinal RatZinger with Vittorio Messori, The Ratzinger Report (San Fran-cisco: Ignatius, 1985), pp. 44, 55, 71, 74, 83, 62, 29-30. '~ In "The Catholic Priesthood," Overview 19, 10 (undated [August 1985]), p. I, citing a report in NFPC:News Notes, March 1984. aA Overview, May. 1985, p. 1. 5 Overview, June 1985, p. 1, citing a report in New ~'ork Times December 9, 1984. 6 Ibid., p. 2. The 'article was in National ReviewS" November 25, 1983. 7 Overview, May 1985, p. 5. Herr is citing an article by Mary K. Tilghman in The Catholic Review of March 20, 1985. The words are Tilghman's except for the quo-tation from Schoenherr on the "?rganizational crisis." 8 Ibid., p, 6. 9 Ibid., p. 3. 10 Walter M. Abbott, S.J., ed., The Documents of Vatican II (New York: Guild, 1966): "Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modem World" or Gaudium et spes sec. 4 and 5; hereafter, Latin titles used and noted in text. i1 Thomas More, 1979. 12 Paulist, 1975. 13 Harper & Row, 1973, p. 71. 14 Doubleday, 1977, p. 12. 15 Paulist, 1972, citing an article he wrote as early as 1967. ' 16 Greeley's first controversial conclusions were published in Catholic Schools in a Declining Church, with William C. McCready and Kathleen McCourt (Kansas City: Sheed & Ward, 1976); his latest is American Catholics Since the Council: An Un-authorized Report (Chicago: Thomas More, 1985). 17 Gallup publishes yearly reports on Religion in Americh, and has just completed (with Jim Castelli) The American Catholic People: Their Beliefs, Practices, and Val-ues (Garden City: Doubleday, 1987). Four Ecclesial Problems 18 Eight reports from this invaluable study of "core Catholic" parishioners' think-ing and practices hav~ been published so far, appearing in Origins from December 27, 1984, to August 28, 1986. 19 In Justice in the Marketplace: Collected Statements of the Vatican and the U.S. Catholic Bishops on Economic Policy, 1891-1984, David M. Byers, ed. (Washing-ton, DC: NCCB/USCC, 1985), pp. 249-250. 20 Quest for Justice: A Compendium. , J. Brian Benestad and Francis J. Butler, eds. (Washington, DC: NCCB/USCC, 1981), pp. v-vi. 21 Synod of Bishops: "The Final Report," Origins 15, 27 (December 19, 1985), pp. 445,449. 22 E. J. Dionne, Jr., "The Pope's Guardian of Orthodoxy," New York Times Maga-zine, November 24, 1985, p. 45. 23 John A, Coleman, S.J., "American Bicentennial, Catholic Crisis," America, June 26, 1976, p. 553. 24 Andrew M. Greeley and Mary Greeley Durkin, How to Save the Catholic Church (New York: Viking, 1984), pp. xviii-xix, 35, passim. 25 Germain and Jeannette Grisez, "Conservatives, liberals duel over leaking barque," National Catholic Reporter 22, 5 (November 22, 1985), p. 14. 26 Christopher F. Mooney, S.J., Religion and the American Dream: The Search for Freedom under God (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977), pp. 35-36. 27 Avery Dulles, S.J., Models of the Church (Garden City: Doubleday, 1974), pp. 94-95. 28 Harvey D~ Egan, S.J., Christian Mysticism: The Future of a Tradition (New York: Pueblo, 1984), p. 234. The Autumn Years: A Touch of God Joseph M. McCloskey, "S.J., and M. Paulette Doyas, S.S.N.D. Father McCloskey is Director of Shalom House-Retreat Center; P.O. Box 196; Montpelier, Virginia 23192. Sigier Paulette teaches at the College of Notre Dame; 4710 N. Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Autumn colors stimulate our aesthetic sense. Leaves grown old are beau-tiful to behold, a truth of creation that gives dying its own color. In, our later years our activities are like autumn leaves before they fall to the ground; each one is a jewel in our crown, worn with pride but sometimes hard to see against the perspective of a cold winter. Winter follows autumn; it is the winter we fear. Winter allows us to view the forest of our lives without being lost. in details. The forest stripped of its foliage, our lives are open to scrutiny; unencumbered by duties, we have the chance to really see ourselves. But autumn, with its warnings of dying, allOws us to look at winter with a hope of new birth. Autumn brings a special brand of happiness which belongs to God and is worth reflecting upon. Our autumn years do not have to be unhappy ones if we appreci-ate the meaning of our lives. No one likes to think about growing older, yet the truth is, we have been aging since conception. There is no es-caping autumn; growing older can bring colorful changes into our lives even if we must yield to a certain amount of inactivity. Love frees the spirit. Alienation brings loss of heart and dims our ap-preciation of life. Passion for life belongs to love, yet the passion for life wanes and we yearn for something more when we feel ourselves no longer needed. The mid-life crisis is a taste of what is to come as we ex-perience doubts about our work and what we have been doing with our lives. Glory, honor, and power are perpetual temptations of life, even when we are not sure just what it is we want. We struggle to hold on 820 The Autumn Years / 821 t~J the possibility and potential of doing something wonderful. As We be-come tired of trying to'h61d on and despair cofifronts us, we finally real-ize that life has-a meaning--being in God. "When we finfilly face the meaning of life, the idea of sitting on a porch watc.hing the rest of the world go by.does not have to seem terri-ble. The autumn years are su~ounded by the storms of others' activities and the job still gets done even when we are no longer bearing the brunt of the heat of the-day. As 'we watch the jobget done, we cab laugh at ourselves for all the times we pictured ours61ves as indispensable. We db not have to identify who we are by what we do. We identify ourselves by not doing; we may be retired. The constant round of activities which ful~d Our lives'belongs to those who follow. ~The fruitful year~ of.prbd~ictio~ ~nd hyp~'activity seem unreal as we watch them'in others.The mystic in life touches us; we watch, like con-templatives in prayer sitting on our autumn veranda, the storm of God's love come up in the for.m~ 6f others' work. God bring.s beauty into our lives as we appreciate what others Ho. 'People need our affirmation a~ad appreciation. L'ife is not over because wecan no longer do, it is just be-ginning. Today is the first_day of the rest of our lives, no matter how old we are. Traumatized by thoughts of our past, we can miss the colors of now. Anxious ,about tomorrow, we are sometimes only half present to what we are dbing. E~;en as yesterday can dampen our enthusiasm in what w~ are doing, anxiety over tomorrow can keep us from being fullyi.nvolved now. We live in an age of. activity and our .minds resemble motor boats, chugging noisily over the wavesof what must be done. There has to be a po.int where we cut the m0tor, give up the noises we make, and just glide, delighting in the freedom of knowing that our work may be almost finished. As we grow older, spirituality can give meaning to the lessen-ing activity in our lives. Slowing down without feeling worthless is what spirituality can help us.do.,No ~matter how old we are, idleness can threaten self-worth. We become :victims ,of our own doing, as thoughts of What we could, do to make our lives worthwhile prod us to keep go-ir~ g: "If we stop, that magic momentof doing something great may be missed." Pushing ourselves t6 exhaustion, we do not have time for our-selves now. We fail to apigreciate what we are right now. Unusual are the autumn souls, really alive t6dayin the richness of yesterday's expe-rience, y6t still open to tomorrow's vision of life with new meaning. Many still search for the secret of iife--f6und in living wholeheartedly 822/Review for Religious, Novemb.er-December, 1987 the fullness of now--in some nebulous fountain of youthful actiyity. We need to open ourselves up to'where we are and who we are right now. Spirituality's ultimate goal consists in seeing God face to face. This means "being" with God. All of life, everything we have ever done, everything we have ever been, is a preparation.that we might "be." Be-ing does not imply vegetating. There is a responsibility to b~ for one an-other attached to being for Christ. Whatever. we do for the least one of our brothers or sisters, even when we are not aware of doing it for Christ, is accepted by, him as bei.ng done for himself. In identifying himself as the "I am who I am" God, God reveals himself as reachable in the here and now. The only moment in time truly real is now, touching the "Eternal Now." Living in the now, for even a moment of time, garners those nows of life when we opened our hearts to being loved. These moments become sacramental. We live the "Sac-rament of the Present Moment." 'There are seven sacraments that the Church recognizes as special moments in life where Christ wants to be present in our lives and is giving himself. In these sacraments of the Church, Christ does the work. In the sacrament of the present moment we can make a moment sacramental by our ~illingness tb make Christ present frr each otlaer.° Living in the present, with what good there is, frees us of what anchors us to the past. Because it only takes a moment to love for a lifetime, we have tliE poss!bility of being Christ lovers by giving of who we are to the least person we meet, in any moment of our lives. We are children of the Father. God takes us as his own because we are precious to him. The Psalms tell tls that.: "Before you were born, I knew you!" (Ps 139). We are loved because Of who we are even be-fore we had accomplishments to boast of. Saint Paul teaches us in Ephe-sians 1 : 1-13 that God' s love is deserved in the goodness of Christ. Christ is our Way and our Truth and our.Life. Saint John's first epistle on Love teaches us that .all of life is a preparation for the opening of our hearts, now, to the fullness of the Lord of Life coming into our hearts. All of life is a preparation for this very moment We are living! Wisdom brings knowledge of how to live in God's love, and the contemplative in action lives in God's love by letting God ,work one hundred percent. Doing in God's love becomes being in his love. What becomes of paramount im-portance is how much love we.can accept in Christ, and how much Christ we live for God and each other in return. ~ Being does not happen jus.t because we are old enough. Incapacita-tion is always a possibility when being is thrust upon us. Being is maxi- The Autumn Years mized by freedom and life, but a lot of dying has to take place in each of us before we are really free to love for the sake of Christ. Growing older is part of tile stripping process of b~coming free to let God do all he can in our hearts. Love needs time to mature. The Church says of the young saints that they fulfilled a long life in a short time, so that even th~ child saint can be old when considering years spent on earth. It only take~ a moment to love for a lifetime, andthe meaning of the greatest love of all is giving of one's life for the sake of a ne.ighbor. Giving can be done by being for another. If we think we can do things for ourselves alone, our whole life is wasted. Being in the autumn years can become adoing for others. Being is knowing how to love. Love is being present to the need of another ffhich sometimes in-volves pain. As humans, we would rather bypass the cross and get right to the resurrection. But we are unrealistic if we think the resurrection is possible without,the crucifixion. There can be no spring without the autumn and the winter. Resurrection portrays Christ reaching out to the hurt and pain of his disciples. Christ is our holiness, and the fruitfulhess of our lives in Christis found in how much of Christ's death we are will-ing to accept forbthers. The ultimate, decisive word of God, in the hu-manness of Christ, is Christ's dying on the cro~s. His suffering gives ~m~aning to our pains and our dying even When we do not relate it to our autumn years. Everything we did or woul~t have liked to do becomes as nothing in the light of Christ's suffering and death. He took care of it all. The ultimate, decisive word of God, sp6ken in the humannness of Christ, comes to us in his d~athon the cross. Counselors and sigiritual directors bften meet couples whose mar-riages have revolved around doing'for their offspring, and who now'com-plain about lack of meaning to their lives with'6ut~ their children. After the childi-en are growr~ and off on their own, these pai'ents have not learned how to accept each other, to be with each other. Many priests and religious brothers and sisters have the same problem. So many years found them in their work that they never learned to enjoy each other. So intense was the doing, the~ never discovered the secret of being, for them-selves or others. They ~vere all so busy doing in the spring and summer of their lives that they gave n~o thought to the autumn and winter that had to follow--when doing became more difficult. Working at accomplishing something involves the danger of making doing the meaning of life. The need of another opens our lives to the rush of the Spirit filling us with God's love. The second comings of the Spirit to the Church are pe6ple filled with love who reach out with their gifts 1~24 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 to the needs of others. The problem is no~ whether we did enough in our lifeti~ae, but whether we did~:.what we di~l-~vith love. We may complain that we have never had any.thing werth doing. Ye't each time we moan about not being satisfied with what we have done, or regret not hax~ing done enough, always w~tnting to do more with our liyes, we limit our love of God to wh~t.we are ci6ing noV, rather than bringing all we have done in our lives t~ ~,hat we do. Life teaches us toAive in God's love. We do not deserve God's love, but we can accept it. We waste love, think-ing of all we could have done or w, ould~have liked to d~o.~God.'s love frees us to giv~ ourselves.~ It brings the wisdom whichohelps us to ,put aside our accomplishments or hopes of achieveme.nt, and opens our hearts to be filled with God's love in Christ. The awareness of Christ in our lives frees us to live in the Father's love. ~ The victory won by:Christ when he "took captivity._captive," when he took away the scandal attached t6 our suffering and dying; allows us share in the resurrection when we take up our crosses and follow him. Christ calls us in our inadequacies, our brokenness, our nakedness, our need of others, to be part of the resurrection by claimiong~the foothold in heaven we have in him. Our needs bring Christ into our lives. We be-come other Christs by.-lett!ng him do in our live~s. Growing older ih a world with so many younger,~people frees us to be.in their love, even as we learn to be in God's love. If we were.really and truly competent enough to do it all by ourselves, we would never~ need God. Needing God and other's allows our captiyity to-be taken cal~tive by ~hrist. Aristotle, the great philosopher and teacher-some centuries before Christ, said that. a person could become a philosopher only after forty years of age. It is only When we have enough .experience of life that we begin to find the meaning of life, 19v.e, and values which have to do with being rather than doing. All of life's acc6mplishments are insignificant if we are unable to be in the love of God., if we are unable to be in the love of our brothers and sisters around us. Loye is God's relationship to us, and theGod Who gives all in our lives receives it back When we are able to offer our lives in Christ, when we try to be his life by our love for each other. We are called to be lov- ~ers. Even as the doing of our early years is the beginning of love, it is in the need for each other of our autumn years that love is completed, the love which allows us to~be in the f~ullness of Ch,r!st who lives.Eithin us. Our world needs us and we. should be proud to be aging ,in God's love, .basking in the autumn .years of life, content to be in his love for the sake of all who are still able to do'in his love. We are now like th'e " .,Th~ Autumn Years / 825 Eternal Word of the Trinity, always receiving from the F~ther, even as we are"i'eceiving from others who love us. We are created iri the image and likeness of the God who is Trinity. Trinity has its counterpoini in the mystery of indwelling, where G6d is found in the still point of our lives. Family and community are the outer reaches of this m~yst~ry of indwelling where God lives in the love of our hear~sl and in how we reach out to our brothers and sisters. We are told bY the first commandment of life to love God. We would not know how to do this if Christ had not told us he lok, ed us just as the Father loves him. Christ asks us to live in'his l~v~e, and tells us we love him by keep-ing the commandments which show us the ways we ~hould devil with one another and God. Faithfulness to the commandments is faithfulness to one another. How can ~ve lov~ the God we do not see, if we do not love the neighbo~ we do see? God' is love and we live in his lo~ve in the way we love 0n~ another. Wherever there is. ipve, G~I is. Lo~,e calls us to be like the G~d we image and brings us into commu.nity a~ men and women 6reated to lok, e 6ne another. Spirff~al life can be traced_back to T~rinity: in':-TTinit~,, being and do- !ng meet in the total giving and receiving,of the Father and th6 Son. The Father holds b~ck nothing of himself. The S,on, totally receiving of th~ Father, has nothing the Father has not given him. All of life i~ a combi-nation of these two forces, the active and passive 0"f life. The principles of life find in Trinity the °meaning and the sourceof love. Even if we have spent a. life totally, giv, ing all we are in order that the mystery of the Trinity m_ay be comple.ted in us, the autumn of our lives finds meaning in rec~eiving./~s the child needs parents to grow, so too we grow in those moments when our heart~ need each other. We ac-cept the richness o~each otl~r'~/~ifts when we are willing to need one another from the depths of our being.Then the beauty of life finds the special expression of th6oTrinity completed in the giving and~:eceiving which touches Being, and that very_ being i's love. Love is God's, relatioriShip ~to us, '~n.d the God whb gives ~11 lives in our lov~ when w~ are able,t0 ~J.ffer bin: lives in Ch~rist;.wfien ~.t~ry to live his life by our love for each other. We are called to be lovers. But most of all we are c~lled to be loved in Christ. Autumn years bring the kisses and the embraces of our.,Lord which are felt even in the hurts and the pains of our body's resistance to the call of our Lord .to our eternal reward. The warnings of sufferings do not have to be a threat, in our hope of the resurrection, as a lifetime of love and work in response to the call of God's love claims relationship to Christ. Our pains in letting Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 go of our work,:and our good health bear relationship to the ultimate word of God's love in the passion and death of Jesus Christ and offer the love of God in the resurrection. Even as the dping of our early years is the beginnin.g of love, the letting go of the autumn years completes our love as we feel the need for God and each other. The Christ who is in the least one of otir brothers and sisters is now in us, allowing us to be Christ in our need. We become the Christ to whom we have given hll our life, as all~the good we have done for others comes back upon us. Our world awaits a generation of people proud to be'aging in-his love, basking in the warmth of love which ~omes their way in the autumn of life. Mary is the ultimate model of being for Christ, being for God. She accompan'i~d the Church of theresurre6tibn by being present to their needs and helping them to remember her Son in the many ways of a mother's love, as she took care of h.er. children in the trust given to her by Jesus from the ci'oss~ Because Mary was so present to the needs of the Cl~urch before h_er Assumption, the early Church learned to respect her as mo(her, oA very significant part of the spiri.tuality of the autumn years in the lives of m_any is their devotioh to Mary by following her ex-ample in praying for the Church. The work of the autumn years is the same as Mary's; the" limits of that work ar'~ the size of oiir heart. Even as our autumn years are the time for being as much as we can be, they are the time for loving as much as we can love. Mary has taught us how to li~,e, h'ow to love, and how to be, both by her love for her Son and by the way she lived with the early Church. Just as Mary's autumn years were filled with the touch of God, her presence brought that same touch of God's love to the ea~:ly Church. Mary and God's touch would always be close. So too our autumn y.ears can have the touch of God strength-ening the Mystical,.Body of Christ. Mary is therole model of our autumn years and our patron as we pray: Heav.enly Father,.help us to understand the meaningof growing older in wisdom and knowledge. Allow us to gracefully accept the slowing down in the autumn of life. May we be as loving as Mary in her autumn years, presefit to the needs of c'bmpanions~ filled with I.ife and its inys-ter~, so that all will feel free to share your gift, to find your love within us. Open us, O Father, to a concern for.the liu~an race. Fill our hearts with living in the fulfillment of your abiding love every'moment of every day. Help us to be so resonant and filled with the meaning of the mo-ment that we may:be truly able to love,.as you.loved. May we eagerly look forward to the "being'.~'of the autumn years, reaping the golden rewards, fully open to the winter-that is to come, where all is wanned ~bY your love. ~ Community Dialogue and Religious Tradition Sebastian MacDonald, C.P. Father MacDonald is provincial superior of the Holy Cross Province. He may fie reached at Passionist Community; 5700 North Harlem Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60631. Dialogue is a common form of community experience today. It is an en-deavor which has the capacity of exposing the wealth of tradition latent in a community. Such tradition is often the unspoken element bonding a community together, the ineffable cementing relationships. It can be a mistake, of course, to uncritically commend the rgle of dialogue in religious life, Given the negative experience of it that many religi~us have encountered the past few years, citing its advantages must be balanced with recognizing its difficultie~ and disadvantages. ~'hese latter largely center about the conflict and division that often occurs among community members, as the~y encounter in one another ap- ¯ parently irreconcilable positions on often fundamental and basic aspects of religious life. Dialogue, as the publi~c articulation of these p~ositions, can add to an already~latent conflict. Once public positions are taken by community members, this may freeze a division that has always be~n there, but, here-tofore, private, and to that extent, potentially malleable. By enhancing the feeling elenaent, dialogue can be a further obstacle to community build-ing. II. An aspect of the problem which needs to be recognized is the often 827 828 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 ~restrictive or constrained, nature of community dialogue. At times it does not allow full expression of opinion on the part of all present, as when, should everyone address an issue, the frequent result is that the depth of conversation is shallow and glosses over deep feelings and heartfelt con-victions. This may result in one side gradually prevailing, in a community dif-ference of opinion. An unequal division occurs on an issue when the ma-jority silences the minority, or articulate spokespersons cause members who support an opposing opinion to withdraw in some way and possibly to absent themselves from community dialogue: If this happens, an unspoken element remains in the community, fu-eling even more the disagreement raised to prominence by the public dia-logues that have taken place. Just because ~something is unspoken does not mean that'it ce~ases to exist or exert its influence. lie " To offset this development, a full-blown community dialogue be-comes desirable, where each member has the opportunity, and actively utilizes it, of fully expressing himself or herself regarding fundamental issues of religious life, as well as seCondary but still importantelernents. '. Adults who live together for a period of time accumulate a rich de, posit of spirit and. tradition. Any community bonding that 'Occurs must respect that. richness. But where dialogue is restricted and constrained, and opinions go un, expressed, monologue prevails, not genuine dialogue. There may be an appearance of dialogue, as community members dutifully assemble ac-cording to schedule. But if they do so reluctantly and,. fearing r~ancor, sniping or misrepresentation, do not speak from their hearts on issu.es, then only a facsimile of dialogue is present, with peopl~ merely going through the motions of conversing With one another. Honest ~elf, expression is a duty and a respons.ib~ility, together with a willingness to listen to ~thers, who may voice positions in conflict with ~eeply held convictions. Th!s kind of community dia.logue is an art form riot come by easily, spontaiaeous!y or naturally. It has to be worked at with grace, balance and harmony to make the conversation helpful and productive. There is a rich mother-lode of spiritual exp.erience in religious com-munities that beg~ to be exposed, recognized and admired. It is a thing of beauty that often eludes written or spoken form. Congregational documents, such as Constitutions and Regulations, do,not always capture the "tradition" of a religious community which, Community Dialogue and Tradition / 1t29 in large part, is often inexpressible. But it does strive to see the light of day and to be ack.nowledged for what it is, a major cementing factor in a community's life and existence. .Religious life is one of faith. In our efforts to explain it in its com-munal form, we refer to other kinds of community living, especially the family. However, we know that these comparisons are only partially sat-isfactory. The physical bonding factors which account for the stability of communal units such ,as the familY explain much of the emotional and spiritual quality present there. ~ The vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, however, are bonding factors of a different type, which must be described as intangibles. The ~faith quality and spirituality of religious community is intelligible only in their terms. Indeed, religious life is designed to witness to the kind of community living together based on such values. This witness is, hope-fully, given to one another, and to those who observe religious in prac-tice. The spirituality of the "apostolic community,'~' about which we hear so much today, consists of this faith witness on the part of religious bound together by such "intangible" vows accounting for their life and work together. Precisely because the "anchors" for the faith quality of religious life are intangible, it is possible they will be submerged, sliding beneath the surface and remaining invisible, unless they are consciously and delib-erately disengaged and exposed to view. Community dialogue is one way of allowing this to happen. IV. The fuller the attention and exposure that a tradition of religious life receives, the more promising the access it provides to building and unit-ing a religious community together. Tradition can be ineffable, or expressible only with difficulty for the reasons given above. If this .occurs, it is not acknowledged, responded to or accounted for, despite its important role in the community. Tradition often constitutes the very center of religious life in com~ munity. It can explain the reason behind who they are and the values they abide by. When these are not plainly evident to otliers, their lives as com-munity members can in large part go unappreciated by and even un-known to their fellow religious. Can this be community? Unwritten and unspoken tradition bonds a community together, but it needs to be acknowledged and dealt with. Practices regarding poverty, prayer, silence, fraternal relationships, and so forth, often refer to expe- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 riences that flow deeply and silently, possibly never seeing the light of day, exc6pt symbolically and representatively. It is imperative that they emerge in community dialogue. Otherwise an explosive energy build-up results, driving co-existing lives in opposite directions, into inevitable collision. This is the hidden resistance so often experienced as divisive in community dialogue. It rep-resents the unspoken ground on which people take stands, inadequately explored and investigated with their fellow religious. Much of this tradition is rooted in religious and sacred ~aeaning, and concerns God himself. This adds a dimension of strength and power to values that weigh heavily upon a community that fails to discover them, unspoken and hidden in the depths of certain members who feel that the way they experience God in their lives is not esteemed by others. V. Tradition within the smaller confines of religious community reflects Catholic tradition within the Church at large. It is endowed with a ver-sion of catholicity in its capacity to bind together those who share it. On the other hand, a schism or division can begin among those religious who do not share a common tradition, or fail to appreciate or even perceive its presence. A religious community is like "a little church" in this re-gard. Community dialogue is at its best when it provides full scope to re-ligious experience. In this way it discloses a deposit of reasons and val-ues that give meaning to people's lives and make them real. If it suc-ceeds in this, it helps build community on a solid foundation of full, hon-est, and authentic exchange between people intent on sharing life to-gether. Conclusion Living by a largely unwritten tradition containing rich personal and communal experiences, we stand to benefit by an exposure of this "tra-dition" to others through, dialogue. Hopefully it will win their esteem too, and bind religious more ~closely together. God's Love Is Not Utilitarian William A. Barry, S.J. This is the final of Father Barry's series of four articles which began with a considera-tion of our resistances to God. He may be addressed at Saint Andrew House; 300 Newbury Street; Boston, Massachusetts 02115. A number of years ago---more than I care to remember--as a brash young scholastic I was° engaged in a spirited conversation with some other Jesu-its, priests and scholastics. We were discussing the reasons for being a Jesuit. During the discussion I found myself more and more dissatisfied with the reasons given. I had seen married and single lay men and women who were at least 9s dedicated to being,followers of Christ as any of us. My own parents were examples of rather remarkably unselfish lov-ers. I could not believe that God was more pleased with us than with them~ Nor could I accept the notion that God wanted me to be a Jesuit in order to save some part of the world. That just did not ring true to my experience and reflection. At one point I blurted out something like this: "I'm a.Jesuit because God wants me to be happy and productive. God"s love for me has led me to choose this life, just as his love for o~hers leads them to choose their way of life." I am not su.re I understood all the implications of what I said, nor was I sure that the implied theology would stand up to scru-tiny. But that outburst has stayed with me through the years, and I have pondered its meaning off and on. In the process I began to enunciate a conviction that God's love is~not utilitarian; i.e., God does not love me or anyone primarily in order to achieve some other goals. In this article I want to unpack some of the meaning of this conviction, impelled by a number of recent experiences of directing retreats and giving spiritual direction. 831 ~1~12 / Review for Religious, N~vember-December, 1987 My youthful outburst was occasioned by the realization that much of the reasoning that justified being a religious presumed that being one was a great sacrifice, indeed, even painful. So the life had to be justified or made palatable. But I did not feel that my life entailed any more sacri-fice than anyone else's. I was rather happy, all things considered, and would not have traded my life for anyone's. So I felt that the "call" to Jesuit life was God's gift to me, his way of loving me. To put the same thing in another way: I felt that God wanted me to be a Jesuit because that was the best way for me to be happy and productive. That convic-tion has not changed since. Over the years I have come to believe that all God wants of any of us is to let him love us. I hax;e also come to believe that one of the most difficult things for us to do is precisely to let God love us, to receive his love. We resist his advances, his overtures of love as though they were the plague. In three earlier articles I have tried to probe the sources of that resistance.l In this article I want to focus on what I have come to believe is God's desire in bur regard. Sebastian Moore,2 in his latest book, makes the point brilliantly: God desires us into being. Before ever we were, God desired us so much that he made us, and made us desirable and lovely. And he desires, that we find him lovely, that we love him. But that can only happen if we !et ourselves believe and experience that we are, as it were, the apple of his eye. To the extent that we believe and experience that God finds us de-sirable, to that extent will we be in love with him. People who have let God, demonstrate his love for them often affirm that it is a love without any demands, an3; strings attached. This is a diffi-cult point to grasp, so let us try to be clear. Often enough we are afraid of God's closeness because we fear the demands he will make of us. "He may askme to go to Ethiopia." As far as I can te!l, when God comes close, he does not c6rrie with a list'of demands or conditions for continuing to remain close. For example, he does not seem to say: "Yes, I love you, but I will only keep on loving you if you [fill in the blank]." Infact, he does not even seem to say: "I love you, but I will only keep on loving you if you stop this pai'ticular sin:" God seems to be just what the First Letter of John says he is, namely'love ,'and uncon-ditional love at that. All he seem~ to want is to be able to love Us, to be close and intimate with us. Does this mean that God has no standards, no values? By no means; but his Values are not perceived as demands by those who have let him come close. Rather they find themselves desirous of sharing his values, God's Love Is°Not Utilitaridn / I]~13 of being' like him--not because God'demands that they do so, butobe-causethey are happier and more alive when they live according to God's values. For example, I realize that I am happier, more alive and more purposeful when I can desire to forgive as Jesus forgives, to love as Je-sus loves. Married men and women have found themselves most fulfilled when they have:remained faithful to their marital commitments, even when the grass looked greener elsewhere. Religious have discovered that their great-est happiness lies in giving themselves wholeheartedly to the demands of their vows, even when the bloom seems off the rose, as it were. Many Christians have also discovered that they are most alive and happy when they give themselves as wholeheartedly as possible to living with and working with and for the poor. Of course, at times all these people weaken, and are helped to stay the course by some negative sanction, for example, fear of loss of face, or of sinning and disappointing God, or of hell. But at bottom the motivation for sticking to their lasts is the desire to imitate the God who has so unconditionally and faithfully loved them. In other words they want to be perfect as'their heavenly Father is perfect. Of course, they cannot .do this. Sin is an ever present reality which even the holiest of saints must contend with. However, those who have experienced God as lover do not experience him as contemptuous of their sinfulness but as compassionate and patient. In their best moments, when they are aware of God's love, they recognize that all they have to do is to ask forgiveness and healing for their lapses, and to desire to have their hearts made more like the heart of Jesus. And they can hope that continued contemplation of Jesus will transform their hearts almost by osmosis. Now, perhaps, we have come to the key that opens the last door to insight. Jesus is the perfect human being, we believe, the one who most fully realizes the potential of humanity. When all is said ~nd done, What is the central insight Jesus had? Was it not that Yahweh, the creator of the universe, the unnameable, unfathomable mystery, is "Abba," "dear Father," "dear Mother," Love itself? To the maximum extent possible for a human being Jesus knew God, and he experienced God as Love.3 Let us reflect a bit on Jesus' baptism in the Jordan. I realize that I am reading into the text, but I find it intriguing that the synoptics pic-ture God as saying that Jesus is his beloved in whom he is well pleased before Jesus has begun his public ministry. What has he done to elicit such praise? Perhaps "all" that he has done is to allow God to come ~134 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 as close as God wants to come; perhaps "all" that he has done is just to let himself be loved as much as God wants to love him. Perhaps Jesus is so dear to God just because he let God do what God has always wanted to do: reveal himself as our lover par excellence. It is also intriguing to speculate that Jesus' fundamental salvific act may have been, not dying on the cross, but rather accepting God's love as much as it is humanly possible to do. Then the following of Christ might mean not so much doing iheroic deeds, nor even wanting to love as Jesus loves, but much more fundamentally, desiring to let oneself be loved as much as Jesus was and is loved. PerhaPs the world will be saved when a critical mass is reached of people who deeply believe and expe-rience how much they are loved by God. What I have been saying may strike some readers as advocacy of a "me and God" spirituality. It is true that this can all sound very narcis-sistic. But in practice, it is the exact opposite. Those who let themselves be loved by God find in doing so that their own love and compassion for others is enormously increased. This trans-formation does not happen because God demands such love of them. In fact, these persons know that for years they tried to be loving in response to what they took to be God's demands: they made resolution after reso-lution, and failed miserably. Now without effort, almost, they find their hearts going out to others, and especially to the neediest. They are sur, prised themselves at what is happening to their hearts. The more they al-low themselves to be loved unconditionally by God, the more loving they become. And the love of these persons, like that of Jesus, is a tough love. They speak the truth, but it is a truth that is not contemptuous, nor an-grily demanding--at least while they are aware of being loved. This last aside is a necessary nod to realism. For even the holiest of saints has days he or she regrets. Moreover, as they become or are made aware that they are socio-political beings, i.e., constituted at least in,part by the social and. political institutions into which they are born or freely enter, they begin to undergo what Father Gelpi calls a socio-political,conversion, and take steps to make these institutions more just' and caring through organizing, networking, lobbying, and protesting where necessary.4 Moreover, people who let God come close realize, without self-contempt, how far they fall short, and always will fail short, of being like Jesus. They know. from experience why the saints protested so strongly their sinfulness. They feel over and over again how much God loves them and how much God desires to shower them with his love, and God's Love Is Not Utilitarian they see themselves turning their backs on him, resisting his advances, refusing his invitations to intimacy. They find themselves to be enigmas because the experience of God's closeness fulfills their deepest desires, yet they fight him off. In spite of being such sinners they know that God still loves them. Hence, they view themselves and all human beings more and more with the compassionate eyes of God. I have begun to suspect that the notion of God's love as utilitarian is a defense against God's love. IfI convince myself that God loves me for the sake of other people, then I do not have to face the enormity of being' loved for myself alone by God. Many people shelter themselves from the full implications of God's love by seeing themselves as the ob-ject of that love only as part of a group. In other words, God loves all people, and I am included under the umbrella,,as it were. Now there is a truth in this notion, but I can use it to keep God's love very impersonal and distanced. So, too, God'is kept distanced if I conceive of tiis love for me as utili-tarian. "He loves me for what I can do for the people of Ethiopia." It is a very subtle way of keeping God at a distance: he does hoi loveme so much as Ethiopia. It is also subtly Pelagian: God loves me for what I can do for him. Interestingly enough, it is also a subtle way both to puff up my ego, and also to make sure that I am never satisfied with my-self. On the one hand, I am aware of all that I am doing for Ethiopia; on the other hand, I am constantly reminded of how much more there is to be done, and may also be reminded that others have done more. One person on, a retreat, for example, felt that if God really loved her, then he would be using her in more important ways. She discovered that such reasoning was making her unhappy and keeping God at arm's length. Perhaps the burden of the argument thus far can be summed up in an experience of another retreatant. He had experienced deeply that Je-sus knew he was a sinner and would always be a sinner. Jesus commu-nicated to him in a gentle, loving way how he had betrz'yed him in the past, and that he would do it again in the future. Yet he looked at him with enormous tenderness and love. The retreatant felt that Jesus said to him: "I love no one more than I love you--but I love no one less than I love you." God does not love some people more because of what they do, or what they will do. He is just greatly pleased that anyone lets him come as close as he wants to come. If God's love is not utilitarian, does this mean that it is meaningless to ask whether God has a will for me apart from letting him love me and Review for 'Religious, November-December, 1987 loving him in re~urn? If God will continue to love me whether I become a doctor, a carpenter,.a social worker, or a Jesuit, does 'it matter at all to God which I become, as'long as I am happy? To take the question one step further: if God will continue to love me even if I~ continue to sin, does it matte~r to God whether I stop sinning or not? In other words, if we say that God is unconditional Love and that he is not utilitarian in his love, do we not eviscerate of meaning such traditional Christian and Catholic notions as the discernment of God's will, the exist~ence of hell, the call to co.nversion from sin, the person as.God's instrument and vo-cation? Perhaps John was addressing some of the ~same questions when he has Jesus say; For'God so loved the world that he gave'his only Son~ that whoever be-lieves in him should not perish but hav6 eternal life. For'God sent the Son into the world, nbt to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. He who believes in him is not condemned; he who does not b.elieve is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has ~ome into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every .one wh6 does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest his' deeds should be exposed. But he who does what is true comes to the light, thi~t it may be clearly seen that his~deeds have been wrought in God (Jn 3:16-21). A comment by Raymond Brown on this passage and others in John, may show us a path out of the, dilemma: We believe that the translation of krinein as "condemn" in these pas- .sages (also in 8:26) is clearly justified by the contrast with "save." Nev-ertheless, the statement that Jesus did not come to condemn does not ex-clude the very real judgment that Jesus provokes . The idea in John, then, seems to be that during his ministry Jesus is. no. apocalyptic judge like the one expected at the end of time; yet his presence does cause men to judge themselves.5 In other words, Jesus does not condemn, but his presence brings out what people really are like. He, the human presence of God on earth, loves people and wants their good, indeed their absolute good, which is union with God, and he continues to love even those who spurn the of-fer, They condemn themselves. Let us see where this path leads us. When we love people unselfishly (insofar as this is possible for a hu-man: being), we want their good. We want them to be as happy, fulfilled, right with God and the world as possible. We want them to fulfill all their God's Love Is Not Utilitarian / 837 potential, "to be ttie best that they can be," as the commercial for the Army dins into our memories. At our best ~ve do not demand all this as a condition for our love, but we want it because we love. If this is the case with us, we can imagine what God desires. In his ',~'Contemplation to Obtain Love,'? Ignatius of Loyola tries to help us to imagine all that God's love wants. In an almost poignant line he'says: "I will ponder with great. affection how much God our Lord has done for me, and how much he has given me of what he~ possesses, and fi-nally, how much, as far as he~ can, the same Lord desires to give.himself to me according to his divine decrees."6 God creates a world that he sees is "very good" (Gn 1:31) for his loved ones to live in. He wants them to be co-creators with him of this evolving world. The Garden of Eden image in Genesisl is awonderful symbol of wl~at.Gbd wants for those whom he lo~,es into existence. He °wants us to li~,e in harmony ~vith, and with reverence for the universe and all that is in it, because that is the way to ou~r greatest li~lppines's and fulfillment both as individuals and as brothers and sisters. Moreover, he wants to giye himself to us "as far as he can"; limita-tion comes not just. from our fin.itude, but also from our perversity. God, however, will not compel us to accept what is for. our good. Does GOd puni.sh us for our perversity? It is an age-old tradition that ascribes natural disasters to God's wrath. The Old Testa.ment is~ replete with such ascription~s, beginning with Genesis 2. In the New Testament Jesus is asked: "Rabbi, ,whq,sinned, this,man or his parents,~ that he was born blind~?" He a.nswers: "It was not that this man sinned, or his par-ents, but that the works of God might be made,manifest in him" (Jn 9:2- 3). To say the least, this answer is enigmatic, but it does belie the as-cription of disasters to God's wrath ~at sin, On the hypothesis that God is Love I want to say that we punish our-selves by turning away from God's love. God remains steadfast in his love. But hatred, suspicion, prejudice, fear--these and other emotions-- are the product of our sins and the sins of our forebears. And they are not emotions that are for our peace. In other wor.ds, God made us broth-ers and sisters and desired us to live in harmony and mutual love, but we human beings have brought on ourselves the disharmony and distrust that now threaten the world as we know it. And if anyone does remain willfully and perVersely turned away from God's love and the love of neighbor to the end, then he or she chooses eternal unhappiness. But ~God's love does not change into 'something else. Review for Religious, November-De~cember, 1987 But what abgut the man born blind? What about the child with Down's syndrome? What about natural disasters such as the eruption of the volcano in Colombia which destroyed.~a town and took 20,000 lives in one day? We want to know why such things happen. It lies close to hand to ascribe such events either to the punishment of God, or fate, or to the stupidity of the victims. Social psychologists speak of the ."just world hypothesis" in .describing such attitudes. According to this view, everybody believes the world is a place where people generally get what they deserve and deserve wffat they get. To believe that our own good deeds and hard work may come to naught and, indeed, that we can encounter a calamity for totally fortuitous rea-sons, is simply too threatening to most of us. And yet we see people whose lives have been shattered and who seem like us in every way. Are these paraplegics, blind people, sufferers from cancer really innocent vic- .tims, and are we, therefore, candidates for s~ffering the S~me fate? The just world hypoth.esis posits that in these circum~stances we are likely to reject that possibility as intolerable and to conclude that those stricken individuals ~re really wicked, or at least foolish, and deserve their fate.7 Some of these calamities may be caused by human sinfulness or stu-pidity at some time in history. In the United states and in Latin America people still experience the effects of the evil of slavery and of greedy colo-nization. Other calamities may just be random events in a finite world; e.g., some Of the effects of genetic disorders. Others may be caused by someone else's perversity, but the victim is seemingly picked out at ran-dom: for ~xample, the drunken driver plows into John Jones' car, hav-ing just barely missed ten others, and out of the blffe John is dead~ and his daughter is maimed ~for life, through no fault of theirs. The "just world hypothesis" reminds us of the friends of Job or the disciples who asked Jesus about the sin that caused the man to be born blind. It will not work in the case of innocent victims of either random events, the pre-sent sins of others, or the effects of historic evils. How do we square the unconditional love of God with such calami-ties? In experience, people who engage God directly in a relationship, and who look at the world realistically, have the "just world hypothe-sis" pulled out from under them. They see that Jesus, the sinless, be-loved Son, died horribly, and that no bolts of lightning took vengeance on his killers or saved him. As they develop their relationship with God, they may find themselves raging at him for.the seemingly needless suf-fering they ,undergo or see others experience. Somehow or other they dis-cover a God who is beyond what we conceive as justice, a God they can God's Love Is Not Utilitarian hope in and live for, No more than the author of the book of Job can they explain it; but for sure it i~ not the answer proposed by the "just world hypothesis." People who have de'0eloped such a relationship with God experience the deep m~ystery of creation and co-creation. God loves into existence not only the stars that so bedazzle us in the night sky but also the vol-cano~ that erupts suddenly and engulfs a whole city killing 20,000 peo-ple, 'and he loves those people into existence. God not only loves into existence Jesus and Mary, Francis of Assisi, Teresa of Avila, and the lovely people who have lok, ed us in our lives, but also Herod and Hero-dias, Genghis Khan, Lucrezia Borgia, Hitler and the torturers of politi-cal prisoners:of our day. People who meet this God at a deep level sense a bottomless ~compassion and pain at the heart of the world, yet a vibrant hope for life. They become more compassionate--and passionate-~ them-selves. Perhaps they can understand that it was not bravado that kept the martyrs joyful in their s.ufferings and dying. Perhaps, too, they can un-de¢ stand how the poorest of the poor still are capable of tremendous acts of generosity toward their fellow sufferers, just as they can understand the great cruelty o.f which the poor are also capable. Thus far we have threaded our path oiat of the seeming dilemma of the coexistence of God's unconditional love and-punishment for sin and hell. We have also seen a way'of explaining the call to conversion from sin. God wants the best for us and that best includes our turning away from sin and toward living a life that is consonant with a relationship of mutual love with the Lord. Sin does not produce happiness or harmony or peace of mind. Nor does it create harmonious relationsh~p.s between people, or political and social and religious institutions that work toward such harmonious and just relationships. So God's love for us desires that we be converted on all the levels postulated by Gelpi, the affective, the intellectual, the moral and the socio-political.8 Note, however, that God does not make such'integral conversion a condition for continuing to love us. He desires it b~ecause it is for our good; bu~ he does not demand it as the price of his love. Now let us mo4e on to the issue of the discernment of God's will, especially as this regards the question of a vocation to a way of life. Traditionally Catholics have believed that God has a plan for each per-son. He 'calls some to the religious or priestly life and others to the mar- ,ried state. It is true that the term "vocation" was most often restricted to the religious or priestly life. "He-hasa vocation" was shorthand in Catholic circles for saying that an individual felt called to religious or Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 priestly life. But a. more careful use oftanguage:also,saw married life as a calling. A further problem, of course~ is that this language left in limbo those who remain single (and not religious or priests) either vol-untarily or involuntarily. At,any rate, does God call people to a particu-lar way of life? And if. so, how is this calling consonant with the non-utilitarian nature of his love? ~ 0 Again we return to the idea that the lover wants the good of the be-loved. I will use the case of Ignatius of.Loyola to illustrate a way of under-standing God's call in terms of his~love, without~making that love. utilitar-ian. 9 ~ Inigo (his original name) was a hell-raising, ambitious, vain, coura-geous man, a'.man who dreamed of doing great exploits. At Pamplona, according to his own account, he was the rallying point, in resisting the French attackers. When he. was severely wounded in the leg, the defend-ers immediately surrendered. God seems to have used this crooked line to write straight. During his 10ng convalescence Inigo continued his dreaming. He dreamt of doing great knightly deeds to win fame and honor and the favor of a great lady. These daydreams.would absorb him for up to four hours'at a time. The only books at hand for him were a life of Christ and a book of the lives of the saints. When he read these, he began to dream of doing what Dominic and Francis did, and again he would become absorbed for hours. Notice that in both cases ~his ar-dor, ambition, bravery, and even vanity were operative. Finally, after some time of alternating daydreams, he began to notice a difference. When he was thinking about the things of the world, he'took much de-light in them, but afterwards, when he was tired and put theha aside, he found that he was dry and discontented. But when he thought of going to Jerusalem, barefoot and eating nothing but herbs and undergoing all the other rigors that he saw the saints had endured, not only was he con-soled when he had these thoughts, but even after putting them aside, he remained content and happy. He did not wonder, however, at th~s; nor ~:. did he stop to ponder the difference until one time his eyes were opened a little, and he began to marvel at the difference and to reflect upon it, ~ realizing from experience that some "thoughts left him sad and others happy)~0 ~' This was the beginning of Ignatius' own discovery of the discernment of spirits, a discernment that eventually led him to found the Society of Jesus, with enormous consequences for the Church and the world--and for not a few individuals who in almost four hundred and fifty years have joined this Society. God's Love Is Not Utilitarian How are we to understand this story of a vocation? I would maintain that ~God's 10ve for Inigo involved his desire that Inigo use his great ener-gies, his ardor, his ambition in ways that would make. him most happy, most fulfilled, and most useful to others. I believe that it mattered a great deal to God how Inigo used his talents, for Inigo's sake first of all, but also"for the sake.of others .whom God loved. However, God would not have loved Inigo any the less if he had missed the opportunity for dis-cernment, and had ~ontinued on his course toward "worldly" achieve-ment. But he might have been greatly saddened that Inigo did not choose what was for his greater happiness and peace. Later in life Inigo himself might have felt the sadness as he pondered how his life had gone since his recuperation. Only God could so love us that he would allow us the freedom to turn away from receiving all that he wants .to give us, and still keep loving us unconditionally, even when we so chopse. ., It seems to me that a consi.stent cleaving to the central insight of the New Testament, that God is "Abba," does not force .us to give up any truths of.faith and has several distinct advantages. The preceding pages have shown some ways of understanding traditional truths that hold in the forefront that" God is unconditional love, a love that is not utilitar-ian. Su(h an understanding demonstrates an intrinsic connection between the love of God and the search for his frill. Because God loves me, he wants the best for me. Because and insofar as I love God, I want the best for him, which is that he may give.himself to me as much as he can. The way of life God wants for me is the best way for me to receive his love and to be a co-creator with him. Hence, in my better moments, I try to the best of my ability to discern wfiere his love leads me. I do not try to find his will for fear that he will punish me, but rather for fear that I will miss the way that would allow him to give me more of him-self. I also try to find his will because I.know that his love desires more good for all those whom I will touch in my life. Perhaps we can understand in a slightly new way an axiom attributed to Ignatius (and often put inversely). Loosely translated the saying goes: "Pray as if everything depended on you; work as if everything depended on God." 1 ~ It is very important for me to pray in order to know how and where God wants to love me, how he wants to gift me. It is important not only for me, but also because of others. The more I let God give him-self to me as far as he can, the more "sacrat~entally" present he is to others with whom I interact. And once I have discerned God's way, I can work without ambivalence and self.concern, trusting that God will accomplish whatever else he intends. Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 One final question occurs. Suppose that Inigo's eyes had not opened up during his convalescence, and that he had gone on to worldly exploits. Would he have been given another chance? That is, of course, an unan-swerable question. But God would surely continue to love him and, we presume, continually offer him a call to a radical conversion of heart. ~If, later in life, he were to have his eyes opened, he'might have to come to terms with those earlier missed opportunities. Repentance would be in.~order, but a wallowing in his "spilt milk" would not be an appropri-ate response to the God of love. Conversion'means to accept my past pre-cisely as my past, i.e., both mine and past, and to surrender in freedom to the new and mysterious future offered by God's love now. But an historic moment surely would have been lost if Ignatius had gone an alternate route instead of the one he did take. There are conse-quences to our choices. Hence, it is incumbent on all of us who minister to help people who stand, or soon will stand, before serious life choices to become discerning Christians. Historic consequences may be at stake. -And now a final word. For the past year and a half I have been com-ing at the same issue from different angles. At first I was intrigued by a strange resistance to God's initiative, a resistance that clearly was a run-ning from a positive experience of God'~ presence. My curiosity pro-duced the three articles for this review mentioned earlier. Then a few experi,ences with direcfees prompted this article. I want to end where I began, with the first article. We need to be mind-ful that there is a force within us ~hat does hate the light, that seems to want to thwart all God's loving desire to give us of himself. We need to be on the alert to discern the presence of that force, but also to rely on thos~ various sayings that have given people hope through the ages, sayings like: "With men it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God" (Mk 10:27) or "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made per.fect in weakness" (2 Co 12:9). NOTES 1 William A. Barry, "Resistance to Union: A Virulent Strain," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 44 (1985), pp. 592-596; "The Desire to 'Love as Jesus Loved' and its Vicissitudes," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 44 (1985), pp. 747-753; "Surrender: The Key to Wholeness," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 46 (1987), pp. 49-53. 2 Sebastian Moore, Let This Mind Be in You (Minneapolis: Seabury, 1985). 3 After I had finished this article I came upon Francis Baur's Life in Abundance: A Contemporary Spirituality (New York/Ramsey: Paulist, 1983) who uses process the-ology to develop a spirituality based on the definition of God as love. While some- God's Love Is Not Utilitarian what hortatory and at times polemical, the book can serve as a theological underpinning for the more experience-based assertions of this article. 4 Donald L. Gelpi, "The Converting Jesuit," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, XVII, no. 1 (Jan. 1986). 5 Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John: I-XII. The Anchor Bible, vol. 29. (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1966), p. 345. 6 The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. trans. Louis Puhl. (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1951), no. 234, p. 102. 7 Edward E. Jones, Amerigo Farina, Albert H. Hastorf, Hazel Markus, Dale T. Miller, and Robert A. Scott, Social Stigma: The Psychology of Marked Relatiohships (New York: Freeman, 1984), pp. 59-60. 8 Gelpi, op. cit. 9 What follows is based on The Autobiography of St. Ignatius Loyola, trans. Joseph F. O'Callaghan. ed. John C. Olin (New York: Harper & Row, 1974). 10 lbid, p. 24. ~ The Latin version can be found in "Selectae S. Patris Nostri Ignatii Sententiae," no, II, in Thesaurus Spiritualis Societatis Jesu (Roma: Typis Polygiottis Vaticanis, 1948), p. 480. Gaston Fessard, in a long appendix to volume I of his La dialectique des Exercices Spirituels de saint Ignace de Loyola (Paris: Aubier, 1966), traces the historical background of the saying. He demonstrates that although not from Igna-tius' hand the saying does express the dialectic of his spirituality. Vocation She said she wished to be a shrub And sit in silence, lost, obscure In some dim woods where no one ever comes and she could muse and watch the quiet winds go by. But He who long ago observed a brambled bush Looked at her once among the ferns. He looked but once; the winds became a storm And now she burns, she. bu.rns! Ruth de Menezes 2819 D Arizona Avenue Santa Monica, CA 90404 Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty? Mariette Martineau Mariette Martineau, a novice with the Sisters of Mission Service, had recently com-pleted sixteen months of formation at St. Albert, Alberta, when she wrote these re-flections which she hopes will benefit others in novitiate life. She may be reached at Box 2861; Merritt, British Columbia; VOK 2BO, Canada. ~l~hat are the realities of being a novice in a religious community in the Church today? Since the exodus following Vatican II, communities have been growing smaller and older. Novitiates have been created and re-created to meet the ever changing formation needs of both the commu-nity and the candidates. How often have novices of today heard this com-ment from one of the older members of their community, "How for-tunate you are to have such a novitiate, full of prayer and study! In our days . " Come and journey with me as ! reflect on my novitiate experience. I am on the last Stretch of that journey ~as I am presently completing a six-month apostolic experience before returning to Edmonton in June for immediate preparation for vows scheduled to be, celebrated in August. I have often asked myself, particularly in the early months, "Is this no-vitiate experience one of captivity or liberty?" When I first arrived at the novitiate I experienced what I like to call the "honeymoon" phase. Life was fairly flexible as time was granted to unpack, to explore the h6use a6d neighborhood, and most importantly to meet the new commuriity and ito become comfortable with the direc-tor. The excitement of not knowing exactly what to expect and of enter-ing into the newness of activities energized me and I felt that I had made a good decision. Reality soon set in, and the struggling began. Before I entered, I prom-ised myself that I would give me, the community, and God a year to dis- 844 Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty cover if this was truly the way of life for Mariette to grow fully alive. I am thankful for that commitment for there ~vere many times during th'ose first few.months that I was ready to pack my ba~s and leave~. My director was also aware of that commitment and when times were rough she gently reminded me of it. The challenge to let go of one's independ-ence- socially, financially, emotionally, and so forth---can be a painful one. If I had chosen to leave at this stage in the novitiate procesS, I would have been leaving not because I had chosen the wrong way of life but because I was unable to release certain things in my life and give all to God. The second phase or reality of novitiate after the honeymoon phase is this ti~e of purification, of letting go. Tears can be an enriching and cleansing experience! One's schedule soon seems to become another's schedule as 'the director sets her expectations before you and challenges you to integrate and balhnce your time between formal classes, prayer, spiritual reading, community, household chores, writing papers, and per-haps weekly apostolic experiences andthe ~ccasional weekend work~ shop. Your life no longer seems to 15e yoOr own; anger and depression sometimes become an everyday experience as you strive to fully enter into the year. One has usually left a job behind and now feels like a "non-producer," dependent on the community for food, shelter, recreation. Suddenly you have to keep an account of the money you spend and have to ask someone for that money. You now have to ask permission before disappearing in the community car or going out with a friend. In some ways you feel that your personal autonomy is being threatened and you no longer have control over your life. You do not understand all the things that are being 'asked of you. In fact, some of the requests make no sense at all, This calls for trust--in tile community and in the forma-tion personnel. Trust that they do know what they are doing and have your growth as their priority, while attempting to see if you do indeed have the charism of this community. The Yes I said when I ei~tered soon grew into a series of "yeses" that were not always easy to say. I must point out that it was not a "yes" to°having things done to me but a yes that said, "I will enter into the process that you have set before me." During this phase the novices may find themselves projecting a lot of anger at their director. It is they who are setting down the guidelines, they who are enforcing them. The director is the one called to tell the novice, "This year is a time to place some relationships on the back burner, a time to get in touch with who you are, your relationship with God and the community in which you have chOsen to live out that rela- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 tionship." The director is the one who has been given the sometimes pain-ful responsibility of making the novices aware of areas in their lives that need growth. "I do not feel that you are using your time properly--Do you realize that you snapped ~at Suzanne during supper last night?--You are too,much of a perfectionist." A novice, like anyone; finds it painful to look at her brokenness. I sometimes found myself saying in response, "What about Sister Perpetua? I look great beside her and she has been in the community for twenty years." It is much easier to focus on some-one else's areas of growth rather than your own. In the midst of all of this is the fear of reje6tion: One can begin to foc~s entirely on the nega-tive while neglecting to hear the affirmation that is also present. During the novitiate phase one journeys closely with the director. The goal is to have someone to process the year with you, to guide you, to challenge you,. to affirm you, to see if you do have a vocation to religious life. I found this aspect of my journey difficult. As. much as I wanted to dis-cover if I was in the right place, I feared rejection and wanted to appear as someone who had it all "together," I wanted to be an instant relig-ious, comfortable with poverty, celibacy, community, and obedience. Simply put, I wanted to be perfect and got angry with myself and: others when I was not. Directors often tell their novices to be prepared for a time of regres-sion following their initial entry into novitiate. One can hear this with the mind but the heart sometimes gets in the way. One cannot understand why she feels depressed, angry, without energy, and without the finesse she had when she entered. Insecurity may be another reality, but doubt is always good because it challenges one to dig deeper. The gift during this time of grieving and regression is the realization that, "Hey, I am not going crazy! I am just striving to say good-bye to some excess bag-gage. I am feeling the loss of many things and many people. I am spend- .ing so much energy on being angry, I need some way to deal with the anger in a more creative way. I want to grow and become me fully alive, but that hurts and I just cannot seem to grow fast enough." A novice was asked one time, "When did your novitiate start?" She replied: "Nine months into it!" Another reality of novitiate life is the focus on community. One no longer, has the freedom to skip supper when she feels like it and go shop-ping instead. Recreation often takes place in the community context, and outside contacts can be limited and are often with other religious. One may get the sense of dead air--I need to.see other people! The challenge is to enter into the times of community and group activity while remem, Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty / 1~47 bering to also enter into moments of aloneness. We all need some de-gree of personal space. In relation to community, the novice who enters and places before herself the goal of reforming the community will find herself in conflict and perhaps will receive an invitation to leave. It is similar to marrying someone with the intent of changing that person into the person ~hat you think he or she should be. Those of us novices who are still young when we enter often bring with us our youthful idealism. This idealism is not wrong, and may indeed carry with it challen.ges to the community. But we must remember that novitiate is a dialectical proc-ess; both the community and the individual have so.mething to leai'n from each ot~her. Neither is perfect and neither should be expected to be per-fect. A line from a friend says, "I love you as you are in the middle of where you are." How does one know when to leave? After haying earlier stated that I had committed myself (t° myself) for a year, what would have caused ~e to leave? If at any point in that year the person of Mariette completely disappeared, I think it would have been time to pull out. If I had to die to all that I was, I think I would have been in the wrong place, perhaps simply at the.wrong time, or forever. Dialogue with the director is ex-tremely important during this discernment.' She is an objective observer, trained to help one make such decisions. Naturally the decision is always our own, and one always has to keep before herself the freedom to stay or to leave. Again I would say, trust the formation personnel, as it is easy to get entangled in one's emotions and make a decision to leave for the wrong reasons. I would not encourage anyone to leave while in the mid-dle of the grieving process. One can expect to say some good-byes to journey companions dur-ing novitiate. Some people will be with us until the end of the journey, others are called to different places before then. Good-byes can be pain-ful, especially if you have shared a deep relationship with the person leav-ing or if you have difficulty accepting the reasons for leaving. Each time someone left, it was an opportunity for me to reexamine my own rea-sons for staying or to find some good reasons to leave. Usually new life followed these reflections especially if I had been given the opportunity to sa~, good-bye to the person leaving and/or to ritualize her departure with the community--whether it be my own or the intercommunity no-vitiate of which I was a member as I was the only novice in my own com-munity. I strongly encourage and invite novices who have decided to con-tinue their journey in a different direction to realize the importance of saying good-bye to their directors and their communities. "848 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 The happie,st phase of the novitiate seems to come too late. You feel ready to enter into the process, you have develop.ed new relationships, ygur, anger and depression no longer seem to have control over you, the journey inward has become a challenge that energizes you. And guess what? It is time to move on, perhaps to an apostolic experience or fur-ther studies or even vows. It is gratifying at this time to look at how one was at the beginning and how one appears to be now. Signs of growth are evident and as you reflect back you. feel yourself wondering,. "Was I, really like that? Did I make life that miserable for others in the house, especiall3~ my director? . . ." Now may also be a time of increased heal-ing, reaching out in love and forgiven, ess in a deep and meaningful way to those wh6 have journeyed so f,,aithfully with 'you. One still does not haveit ~11 "together" bu~'acknowledges the joys and pains of being a pilgrim. Is novitiate a time of captivity or liberty? It can be a time of captiv-ity, ofimprisoning one's self in anger, loneliness, schedules, pride, in-security, or one's past, But it is designed to be a time of liberty. A time to spend kvitli,y.ourself and God, journeying towards wholeness by being -given the gift to leave behind many of the earthly cares that can take over our existence. It is a time to begin to d~velop the"skillS and behavior pat5 terns that a religious needs to integrate her life choice of prophet into the world" and the Church today. Community in Religious Life and the - Church: Some Reflections Angelo M. Caligiuri Monsignor Caligiuri is Episcopal Vicar for Religious in his diocese. His reflections here represent his part in dialogues between bishops and religious in several areas of the country and discussion with various religious superiors and other vicars. He may be reached at the Office of the Vicar for Religious; Diocese of Buffalo; 100 South Elmwood Avenue; Buffalo, New York 14202. During the final months of 1985 and the first months of 1986, through-out the dioceses of the United Sti~tes, diocesan bishops met with their re-ligious to dialogue about six areas of mutual concern. These areas of in-terest and concern surfaced from the series of listenin~ sessions held the previous year under the leadership ~nd guidance of the special Pontifical Commission established by our Holy Father, under the chairmanship of Archbishop John Quinn of San Francisco. As a result of these listening sessions, .each diocese prepared a writ-ten report on what was heard and these reports were sent to Archbishop Qtiinn and his committee. From a reading and evaluation of the many reports, the committee saw the following subject areas surfacing as mer-i

Issue 44.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1985. ; 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, M O 63108-3393. REvlEw FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by REVlEW FOR R ELIG~OU~ Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR REt,tGtOUg P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1985 Volume 44 Number 3 Manuscripls. books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent Io REVIEW F'OR RELtGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtEW t'OR RELt~tOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. LoUIs, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. The Charism of Peter at the .Service Of Unity In an ex.change.of Ch~stmas gceetlngs with his "b~:other~ and collaborators" of the Roman Curia, Pope John opaul II reflected at length about the Church and about his niinistry in the Church. The text is based upon the translation of L'Osservatore Romano, 21 January, 1985, pp. 6ft. Dominiasprope est (The Lord is n~arl Ph-4:5). The celebration of Christmas, now fit hand, h~is brought us together once again for this fine custom of exchangin~g good wishes.'.~With minds filled With gratitude we ~repare to kneel before the crib along with the sh'epherdg during this Holy Night, near which the '~Vir~in Mother," proclaimed by'the prophet Isaiah ('Is 7:14), keeps watch with ~ageraffe~ction. 'We knowthat in this fragile Infant still unable to ~peak thei-e comes to me~ us the Etet:nal Word'of'God, ttie uncreated Wisdom Who rulesthe univd~se. He is the Light of God who "shines in darkness," as the Apostle Jdhffsays--adding'immediately with bitter realism: "But the dark-ness did not accept it." L~ght and darkness confront each Other before the manger in which that Infant lies: the.light of truthaffd the darkness of error.°It is a confrontation which does not admit of neutrality. Each one must ChoOse which side to take. It is a choice in which each stakes his 6r her future. The Infant of the Crib, become an adult, will one day say: "If~ou live according to my teaching, you are t~rul~ my disciples; then you willkhow the trfttl, and the trtith will set you free" (Jn 8:31 ff.). ~ ' ~ " The Woi'd of God, in becoming flesh in order to fiaak'e his dwelling among us (see Jn 1:14), comes to bring us the inestimable gift of the knbwledge of the truth: the truth about him,~nd the tr~iii~abotit us and about our transcendent ,destiny. Man cannot.build up himself or his free~io~n~ except on the foundation of this truth. It is therefore a~ exir~meiy'precious girl, one to be safeguarded 321 322 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 and defended. The loss of even a part 0f that integral truth beating in the heart of the Infant "wrapped in swaddling clothes" in the manger would mean that man puts at risk the full realization of himself to a greater or lesser degree. The Church, knowing herself to be the depository and guardian of this truth, is aware of this. She therefore feels invested with a special mission, one which makes her the duty-bound subject of a special service to humankind. To each generation newly arrived to inhabit the earth must she reveal the marvelous plan that God has prepared in his only Son, a plan which will benefit every. child of man who is willing to accept in faith the wonderful initiative of God's love. For this reason the Church, and in her especially the Roman See of Peter, keeps watch at the cradle of Bethlehem. She keeps watch so that these trans-cendent values which the Creator has offered to humankind--truth and free-dom in truth, which is to say love--may not be obscured, much less distorted. She keeps Watch so that, despite all opposing currents, these values may be constantly revivified and be ever more affirmed in the lives of individuals and of families in both the Christian and civil communities and thus in the life of the entire human family. The Church has both a complex and.~unified,awareness of thes~e valpes, as has been emphasized in a well-known passage of the Dogmatic Constitution Lumen Gentium, the twentieth anni~,ersary of which occurred just a month ago (November 21). Paragraph 13 of this fundamental conciliar document recalls the Church's attitude with regard to "the abilities, the resources and customs" proper to the variety of peoples. The Church sees in them "gifts" which the various cultures bring to h~er, and she is therefore happy to take them to herself, even though she is committed to purify, strengthen and elevate them. In p~a. rticular, for the sake of that character of uniyersality, which adorns and distinguishes her, the Church is mindful that she must harmonize these "gifts," bringing them into a higher unity :so that they may cOntribute to the progressive affirn~, afion of the one kingdom of Chi'ist. And hence it is that "in virtue of this catholicity each individual part contributes through its special gifts to the good of the other parts and of the whole Church. Through the common sharing,of gifts and through the common¯ effort to attain fullness., in ~unity, the whole'and each of the pa~s receive increase." . o There is more. Continuing along this line of.thought, the text pres~ents a ¯ fundamental thesis of Catholic ecclesiology. It p.oints out that '.'within the Church particular churches hold a rightful place; these chhrches ream their own traditions, without in any way,.0pposing the primacy of the~Chair of Peter, which presides over the whole assembly of charity and protects~ legitimate differences, while at the same time assuring that such differen~s do .not hinder unity but rather contribute toward it." It would be difficult to expre~ss tills any, more cl~ariy c~r profou'ndly: the universal Church is present~ed ~s a ~ o.mmunion of (p~articular) chu~rches and indirectly as a communion of nations, languages and cultures. Each of these. The Charism of Peter at the Service of ~]nity / 393 churches: brings°its own "gifts" to the whole, just as individual scientific and'~ socihl conquests, as also'the goals of civilization as these are gradually achi, eved, all. make their contribution. Pluralism in the ChurCh So m~h emphasis is given today to ttie "special" Christian experiences of particular church~s in the socio-cultural context in which ehch of them is called to live. These specific experiences--it is stressed---con~rn the Word of God as this is to be .read and understood in the light of the data which emerges from one's existential jofirney. They concerti liturgicalfprayer, which must draw from the c~ltfire to which belong the s*gns, acuop~s and words used m adora-uon, worsh|p and celebrat|on. These experiences concern the theological reflectmn which~ m .turn must have an influence on categories of thought typical' of each ~ulture. And Anally the~ special experience~ concern.~ecclesi~ii' communion itself, which is rooted in the Eucharist, but whose concrete devel-opme~ n~t ~lepend~ on ihe historico-t~nporal condiii6ns which derive from it~ insertion into~the ambience oi" a particular country or of a specific region bf.the world. These are. int~erestmg pei'spectives" because 9f ihe lines of theologicai inves-tigation ,which they seem to open regarding the unfathomable mystery ?f the Cil~urch, ahdeven more because of the possibilities they offer to the°faithful to p~'r~ivg~nd to own ever more fully ihe immense ~ch~s of the new life broughi~ by Christ. ~ But these_ ar~e perspectives which, in order tc~i be fruitful, presume respect for affinescapable Condition: Such ekperiences must not be li~,ed separatei~ or independently of, much less in oppositton to experiences hved by churches ~n oiher par~s of~the world. In order to be constituted as authentic experiences of Church,~(hese entail the necessity of being in har~mony with those ~,hich othe~ Christian~ intouch with other cultural contex(s fe~l called to live in order to be faithful to the requirements which flow fromthe one identical mystery of Ch~s~. This affirmation touches a central°point of Catholic ecclesiology and bears rgeapl"e atetinrd~egn. c~i'eos ~insd cuolgnetr ainrY " itsoo l,tahtieo encisc{le's(o~roileongtya tOi0fn st'h, eb rS eecvoennd t oV faat~,coarn " cCepnutrnicfud-.' In, its paragraph 13, cited above, Lumen G~ntium stresses the possibilities. inherent in a wholesome pluralism. However, it also very clearly, specifies' its limits. True pluraligm is never a divisive factor, but an element whichcontrib-_o ute~ to the building up of unity Within the universal commur~ion of the Church. Communion of Minds, Communion of Hearts - In fact, there exists among individual particular churches an ontological relationship of mutual inclusion. Each particular church, as the realization of~ the ore Church of Christ, is in some way present in all the particular churches "in and from which churches comes into being the one and ohly Catholic 324/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 Church" (LG 23).~ This ontological relationship must be carried over onto the dynamic level of its concrete life, if the Christian community does not want to enter into contradiction with itself. The basic ecclesial choices of the faithful of a community must be able to harmonize with the choices of the faithful of other communities so as to give rise to that communion of minds and hearts for which Christ prayed at the last Supper: ~. as you, Father. are i~h me, and I in you~' ! pray tti~they may be [one] in us . tha~t their unity may be compli~te" (Jn 17:21, 23). A particular task bf the Apostolic She consists precisely in serving thik universalunity. Indeed, it'is here that the ~specific office and, we may even say, the charism 6f Peter and his successors lie. Was it not to him that Christ said before the dark night of betrayal: "I have pray6d for you that your faith may never fail. LYou in turn must strengthen, your brothers" (Lk 22:32)? lnd~ed he is the "~ock" on whichChrist willed~to build his Church (see Mt 16:18). It is precisely°fi:o~m the foundation' that the iniegrated si"rength of the efitire edifice is expected. For" this reason, in a dialogue charged with pathos' ,.afte~ the ~esu,rrection, Jestis left to Peter the demanding responsibility: "Feed my lambs . feed my sheep" (Jn 21:15ff). Certainly, the one Supreme Shepherd is the Incarnate Word, Christ the Lord~ And so, with spontaneous fervor the pope'makes h~s own,the words of St. August.ine: "Vobis pastores'sumus, sed sub illo Pastore vobiscum Oves sumus. . . Vobis ex hoc loco doctores sum'us, sed sub ill un'o Magistro.in hac schOla vobiscum condiscipuli surnus" (For you we are shepherds,"biat, unde/ that Sheph,erd, with you we are sheep . For you., we are teachers, but, under that ofie Master . with you we are fellow disciples Enarr in Ps 126:3). This i:10es not eliminate the fact, however, that in the Church each has his own specific .task for which he must one day answer to'Christ. Over the centurie~ the popes have deeply'felt their responsibility for the s'ervice to Catholic bn~ty that was entrusted to them'~i and have soughtto: provide" ~ ford:it in many ways~as by surrounding themselves ,with experienced collfiboratot~"the better to meet the multiform responsibilities of their office. ° Recently, in response to suggestions from the.Conciliar Assembly, we gave exPr,ession to the desire to "internationalize" the Curia, so that'th~ presence of offici~als coming from various parts of the world might'facilitate dialogue with churches living on various co'fiiinents. This morning 1 have the pleasure of meeting with a select representation of the organizafioffg into which the Roman Curia is divided. I gladly welcome the opportunity, beloved brothers in'(~hrist2 to e~press my appreciation to you and to thank you'fo~:'ih~ cOmpe~t~int collaboration which you so generously offer me in the daily fulfillment of the duties inherent in my ministry. The Ministry of Peter . ~ With me you live that "anxiety~for all the churches" which constituted the t'daily tensiofi" of the Apostle Paul (see 2 Co 11:28). This constitutes the daily The Charism of Peter at the Service of Unity /325 tension of every,pope. ~Indeed, it is ~for the Successors of Peter to ensure the convergence towardg the center of th~ Church ofthose many "giffs" to which allusion was made in the conciliar texts we cited. And again it is for them to make provision for those;same gifts to flow outward to the various members of :Christ's Mystical Body, carrying to them new impulses of fervor and of life. There are ordinary means for addressing this apostolic task, among these being ad limina visits. Thus, during.the, present year I have had the pleasure to receive the episcopal conferences of Costa Rica, Oceania, El Salvador, Taiwan, Togo, Lesotho, Peru, Greece, Sri Lanka, Venezuela, Argentina, Chile, Guinea, Ecuador, the AntilleS, B_o!iyia a.nd Paraguay. ' There are also extraordinary means, among which the pope's visits and pilgrimages to .particular churches on the various continents are proving espe-cially effective. Still keen in my mind i~ the pleasant memory of my apostolic journey at the beginning of May to Korea, Papua New Guinea, the Solomon , Islands and Thailand to share the concerns and hopes of the young and promising churches of those lands. Also of significance was the journey during" the month of June which took me to Switzerland and enabled me to strengthen~ the bonds of communion between the See of Rome and the noblechurches of that:nation. Also unforgettable are;the emotions I experienced during my journey :to Canada, when I encountered both those who live their faith in the heart of.a highly evolved ~society and with those who received the gospel message in the context of ancient native Civilizations. Important finally, even if rapid, was the journey in mid-October when, after touching Spain, I reached Santo Domingo, the land from which, almost five centuries ago, evangelization spread into the :New World. On that occasion, too, I was able to meet the people of .Puerto Rico. ~ It is .with joy that I also recall the pastoral visits I made during the course of the year. in Italy: to Bari, Bitonto, Viterbo, Fano, Alatri and then; at the beginning of October, to the churches of Calabria, and finally, in November,~ my pilgrimage to the places sacred to the memory of St. Charles [Borromeo], marking the fourth century of hi~ death. The Apostolic See also maintains a dense network of contacts with all the particular churches in its constant concern not to lose any "gift from above" ,(see Jm 1:17), while at the same time safeguarding the priceless treasure of the Truth of God, along with everything of permanent validity which this has caused to.germinate in the fertile soil of generations of Christians down through the centuries. Neither preconceived prejudice nor deplorable ignorance, there-fore, butconstant ~attention to,"what the Spirit says to the churches" (Rv 2:7)! And this in order "that everything which authentically comes from the Spirit may benefit the entire composite of ,Christ's Mystical Body. Teach the Faith in Its Int grity , , In the context of these reflections we must emphasize ~ also the special responsibility which the :entire episcopate has--cum Petro et sub Petro (with $26 / Review f~or Religious, May-June, 1985 Peter and under .Peter)--with regard to the "deposit~0f thefaith~" entr.usted by Christ to theChurch to be integrally eared for and faithfully taught to genera-tions of people in every age. How can we not recall, the solemn words with which Jesus took leave of the Apostles at the moment of his return to the Father'?. These constitute a precise charge: "Full authority.has been given to me both in heaven and on. earth; go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Teach them to. earry out everything I.have commanded you" (Mt 28:18ff). ' Everything! Nothing of the "deposit."_ can be set aside~ tampered'with or neglected. Aware of this, the Apostle Paul addresses to his "disciple Timothy the . categorical imperative: "Depositum custodi!" (Guard what hasbeen committed to you! 1 Tm 6:20), and impresses on him: "I charge you toopreach.the word, to stay with this task whether convenient or inconvenient-~correcting,°reprov-ing,- appealing--constantly teaching.and never losing patience" (2 Tm 4:2). ° Indeed, the faithful of each historical era are exposed to the temptation ' "not to tolerate sound doctrine" and to "surround themselves with teachers who tickle their ears, refusing to listen to the truth and wandering off,to fables" (see ibid, vv. 3 ff). / Our age is also exposed to this temptation¯ An exact duty therefore falls .upon today?s~ shepherds and guides of the People of God: to defend the authenticity of gospel teaching from all that contaminates and distdrts it. Certainly we must be able to recognize and accept the "grod" that our generation is able to express in order to "purify, strengthen and elevate it." The Council reminded us of this (see LG 13). BUt we must also reject courageously whatever bears the imprint of error and sin, whatever coniains substantive threats to truth and to human morality, whatever spreads thrrugh society, ~whether by deceitful maneuver or with arrogant high-handedness, attacking the dignity of the person and the inalienable rights of individuals and of nations. ¯ The Church has the duty to keep watchAn order to defend,the integrity of the .faith and .of Catholic doctrine, warning against the deceits which seek to contaminate it. This is a specific task of hers which she cannot renounce. "Promoting~Truth Is the Duty of the Church The Holy See, for its part, carries out this duty of promoting and protecting the depositU~mfidei (deposit of faith) with the help especially of the Congrega-tion for the Doctrine of the Faith. As is known, following upon the Second Vatican Council, t.he procedures which the'Sacred Congregation fbllows in examining persoffs and writings submitted to its judgment h.ave been somewhat modified with the intention of offering every guarantee to interested persons. The protection of the truth, which is the Church's sacrosanct and indispensable duty, is not achieved by passing over in any way the dignity and rights of the person. Anyone willing to look with unbiased objectivity cannot ,but recognize, The Charism of Peter at the Service of Unity also in the context of recent events, that in its interventions this Congregation is constantly inspired by ~trict criteria of respect for the ~persons with whom it must rela~te. What can be hoped is that an equally respectful attitude,be always accorded .by those persons toward the Congregation itself when they comment, in private 6r in_ public, on its work. The same principle should apply to every member of the ,People of God, since this Congregation intends nothing other than to safeguard from danger the greatest good which the Christian possesses: the. authenticity and integrity of his faith: It is certainly of great importance that there be established within the Church a sincere and open dialogue among the various components of the Pegple of God. ~This dialogue, however, must be understood as a way to search for what is true and just, not as an ~occasion to indulge in words andattitudes scarcely compatible with an authentic spirit of dialogue. Everyone: must always keep in mind the,duty that each has with regard to truth, most of all.that truth which God has revealed and of which the Church is theL~guardian. ¯ The Option for the.Poor Before. concluding, 1 would also like to mention another 0point~whidh is especially being heard today, the "'preferential option for the poor." During the Second Vatican Council the Church has solemnly proclaimed that she.makes this option her own declaring: "[Like Christ] the Church encompasses with love all wh~ are afflicted with human suffering and in the poor and afflicted she sees the image of her ~poor and suffering Founder. She does all she can to relieve their need and in them she.strives to serve Christ" (LG 8). ¯ This ~"option,~'~. stressed so strongly by the episcopates of Latin America today, has been repeatedl); confirmed by me, following the example of my unforgettable predecessor, Pope Paul Vl. I gladly take this opportunity to repeat that the commitment to the poor constitutes a dominant theme of my pastoral activity, a0constant concern accompanying my daily Service to the,. People of God. I have madeand continue to make this "option" my own. I identify .with it. And I feel that this could not ~be otherwise, since it is the Gospel's eternal message. This is what Christ did. This is what Christ's Apostles. did. This is what the Church has done throughout her two-millennium history. In. the face of today's forms of exploiting the poor the Church cannot remain silent. She reminds the rich as well of their precise duties. Made strong with the Word. of God (see Is, 5:8; Jr 5:25-28; .lm 5:1,3-4), she condemns the many injustices which, unfor{unately, even today are committed to the detri-ment of,the poor. ., ~ Yes, the Church makes her own the preferential option for the poor. A preferential option, notg carefully. Therefore not an exclusive, or excluding option--b.ecause the mes_sage of, salvation is meant for everyone. It is an option~ furthermore, which is essentially based on the Word of God, and not on criteria offered by human science or by adverse ideologies which often reduce the poor to abstract socio-political or economic categories. 328 / RevieW for Religious, May-June, 1985 It is an option, nevertheless, which is unwav~ering and irrevocable. As I said recently in Santo Domingo: ""The pope, the Church, and her hierarchy want to continue to act on behalf of the poor, their dignity, their elevation, their rights as persons, and their aspirations to a social.justice'that can n9 longer be delayed" (L'OsservatOre Romano, EngliSh edition, November 26, 1984, p. 8). Nevertheless, the Apostolic 'See which, because of 'the special mission entrusted to it, closely shares in the experiences of the Chfirch in the various regions of (he world, knows that the forms of poverty, to which modern man is'~ subjected are manifold, and4t feels a moral obligation also in i'egard tO these other forms ,of poverty. Alongside, and, so to speak, in the face of the poverty against which the Episcopal Conferences of Medellin .and Puebla have raised their ~oices, there is also the poverty which stems from the privation of those spiritual goods to which the human person by nature has a right. Is that individual not poor who is subjected to totalitarian regimeS which deprive .him .of those fundamental freedoms in which his dignity as an intelligent and responsible person finds expression? Is that person not poor who is wounded by:otfiers in' his-0r her interior relation to truth; in his or her conscienc~e, in his or her most personal convictions, in his or her religious faith? '., " "' ' This is what I pointed out in my previous interventions, most especially in the Encyclical Redemptor Hominis (no. 17), and in the discburse delivered in 1979 before the General Assembly of the United Nations (nos.,14,20), when 1 spoke abfut the violations inflicted today in the"sphere of man's Spiritual goods. There is not only the poverty which strikes the body; there is another;and more insidious one, which strikes the conscience, yiolating the,most intimate sanctuary~of personal dignity. " In this context of the Church's authentic option for the poor must we ¯ include an event which has, aroused a great deal of int(rest this year: the p~blication of the Instruction regard, ing Certain aspects of the "Theology of Liberation.," . ,This document, contrary to some distorted interpretatiofis which have been given it, not only is not opposed to the optio~i for the poor,~ but rather constitutes an authoritative confirmation of'it, and at the same time effects a clarification and a deepening, of it. By emphasizinffthe intimate and constitutive bond whjel~i°unites freedom to truth, the Instruction defends the poor from ill.uSory and dangerous ideolog-ical proposals of liberation which, beginning with real and dramatic situations of poverty, would make of them and their sufferings only a pretext for new, and sometimes more serious opp?ession: The reduction of the Gospel message to the mere socio-political dimension robs the poor of what constitutes their shpreme right: to receiv~ from the Church the gift of the whole truth about the human person, and hbout the presence of th~ living God in human history.~ The reduction of the human being to just the political sphere, in fact, constitutes a threat not only to the dimension of his "having" but also to his ¯ The Charism of Peter at the Service of Unity / '329 "being." As the Instruction ri~ghtly affirms, the totality of the message of ":salvation alone can guarantee also the totality of human liberation (XI, 16). It is for this liberation that the Church has fought and is fighting at the side of the poor, making herself the advocate of their violated rights, the inspiration for social works of~every kind for their protection and defense, and the voice which proclaims the word of God, which summons everyone to reconciliation and penance. It is not by chance that the Apostolic Exhortation which I recently pub-lished against the background of conclusions reached by the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops propose~ yet again the fundamental evan-gelical theme of conversion of heart, l did so ~in the conviction that the first liberation to achieve for man is liberation from the moral evil which nests in his heart, since it is there that also lies the cause of "social sin," indeed of every oppressive structure. In this commitment to human liberation from all the forms 0f poverty that frustrate the: full realization of the person, theChurch is sincerely and confi-dently open to dialogue With everyone. She declared this to be her intention by the lips of Pope John XXIIIwho constantly ~tretched outwards in the search for "what unites rather than what divides" humankind; she repeated it in the voice of Paul~ VI who dedicated his first Encyclical, Ecclesiam Suam, to this subject; finally, she confirmed it with an especially authoritative pronouncement in the Second Vatican Council which stated that "[the Church] can provide no more eloquent proof of its solidarity with, as well as its respect and love for the entire human family., than by energizin~ it in conversation" that i8 based on the dignity of the human person and on the profound significance of his activity in the world (see Gaudium et Spes, nos. 3 and 40). .The one who, in the unfathomable divine plan, sits today on the Chair of Peter confirms his own intention to contihue the way of a respectful and sincere dialogue with the modern world arid with those who can speak for it and represent it, because he relies on the possibilities for good inherent in human nature and on the renewing power of Christ's Redemption, which is at work in history. Indeed, it is my profound conviction as I said in my message for the 1983 World Day of Peace--that. 'dialogue is a central and indispensable element in the ethical philosophy of'htiman persons, whoev(i- they may be" (no. 6). In order for this dialogue to be fruitful, however, the competencies of other parties must not be infringed upon, and the Church herself, "by reason of her role and competence, must in no way be confused with the political commu-nity, nor bound to any political system," and precisely for this reason does she remain "the sign and the safeguard of the transcendence of the human person" ( GS 76). The Encounter with ChriSt Permeated by the light and the warmth which emanate from these truths, 330 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 ,we set foot on the threshold of the stable of Bethlehem. He who is born in "poverty" asks us to turn our thoughts and hearts towards the varied forms of poverty which oppress.humanity today. He asks us to go to meet this humanity. "Jesus Christ. made himself poor though he was rich, so that we might become, rich by his poverty" (see 2 Co 8:9)¯ ~ Only by making room for, Christ in our own lives and in the lives of our communities will we be able to resolve the problem of the many, forms of poverty from which we suffer, will we truly become "rich," that is, fully, human. The true,problem, however, remains this: to recognize Christ's right to citizenship in each of the various '~worlds" which make up the'modern world. He and he alone possesses the secret for filling our every "poverty"and arousing in our hearts 'the joy of the true wealth, which, in the last analysis, is the treasure of love¯ . May Christmas bring., to the sons a~d daughters of the Church and to all men and women on earth, a foretaste of the indescribable peace of that new world to which the temporal birth of the Son of God happily and irrevoc-ably gave a beginning. May the Holy Virgin, who carried the Incarnate Word in her womb, prepare us to welcome him with deep faith and grateful love. A Gift of Stilln~s The flame from the candle bums steady and bright: It remains that way until a gentle breeze ¯ . comes its way, and it begins to, fliCker. The flickering is a speaking out and a reachi,ng out fo~ a stillness-- that Stillr~ess has but to be present, touchable, available, gentle. :. How much am 1 like that flame-- at times steady, reaching out, . at times burning bright-- and many times flickerin!! I need 0nly be touched by the Stillness.of the Flame of flames-~ ° Then my light becomes~radiant, penetrating, atz,one with the Light of lights. I have been made a Christ,ed flam!! 'I have been gift.ed with Stillness! Sister Regina Hlavac Mother Scton School 100 Creamery Rd., Emmitsburg, Mp 21727 The Mass in "My Cathedral" Pedro Arrupe, S.J. Father Arrupe is well known to our r~aders. In failing health, his resignation from the office of General Superior of the Society of Jesus was .accepted by the 33rd General Congregation of that Society' in September, 1983. "l~his article and introductory comment is I~ased on a chapter from In Him Alone Is Our Hope: Texts on the Heart of Christ (1965-1983), by Pedro Arrupe, S.J., with a foreword by Karl Rahner, S.J.; see Reviews in this issue, p. 466. . These intimate notes of Father Arrupe were jottings written in the course of 1981. °The ailing General hasnow consented that these notes, however incom-plete, ~be made public. In these pages we are able to glimpse how spontane-ously Father Arrupe has lived his intimacy with 'Jesus Christ in the celebration of the Eucharist in his oratory. " This little private chapel of,Father Arrupe, his "cathedral, "had been for Arrupe the powerhouse of in'calculable energy and dynamism for the ~whole Societp~ of Jesus, a place of inspiration; and a source of comfort and strength. This was the place where, for seventeen years, Father Arrupe performed the most important act of his daily routine--the celebration of the Eucharist. As though talking to himself, in these jottings the writer pauses at salient moments of the liturgy, having all the time the body of the Society in his mind. United to the Heart of Christ--he writes--he felt himself to be a mediator between God and the, Society, and understood better what St. Ignatius had in mind when he set down as the primar);~duty and function Of the General: to be "closely unitedwith God our Lord and intimate with him in prayer and in all his actions,, that from God, the.Fountain of all good, the General may so much the better obtain for the whole body of the Society a large share of his gifts and grace.s, and also a great power and efficacy for all the means which will be used for the;, help of souls"'(Constitutions, n. 723). A mini-cathedral! Just eighteen feet by twelve. A little chapel which had .331 332 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 been prepared after the death of my predecessor, Father Janssens, for "the new general'--whoever this was to be! Providence willed that I should bethe one. I am grateful to the person who had the idea; he could not have interpreted the wish of this new general better! The planner of this tiny chapel may have desired to give th~ new general a quiet and convenient place to celebrate Mass in greater privacy, where he might visit the Blessed Sacrament without leaving his rooms. Possibly the planner did not think how much thi~ little oratory would be the fountain of incalculable power and dynamism for the whole Society, a place of inspiration, consolation and strength---even a living room! This was going to be my room for relaxing in the most active leisure,. where, doing nothing, .everything is done! Just as the idle Mary, drinking in the Master's words, was so much more active than her sister Martha! This was going to be the room where the Master's glance and mine cross each other-- where one learns much in silence. The general would have the Lord all the time, every day, next tO .him-- with just a partition between them: the very Lord who was able to enter through the closed doors of the Cenacle, who made himself ~rese~t among his disciples, the One who would be invisibly present in so many conversations and meetings in my office. They call this little room "the private chapel of the general." But it is a teacher's chair (c6tedra) and a sanctuary: Thabor and Gethsemane, Bethlehem and Golgotha, Manresa and La Storta. Ever the same, ever different! If its walls could speak! Four walls that enclose an altar, a tabernacle, a crucifix, a Marian icon, a zabuton (a Japanese cushion), a Japanese painting, one sanctuary lamp. Nothing else is needed, that's all: a Victim, a sacrificial altar, the Stan-dard of the Cross, a Mother, a burning flame that is slowly being cofisumed while giving light and warmth, and love expressed by two Japanese characters: God/Love. Here is a program of life: a life being consumed in love, crucified with Jesus, in Mary's company, being offered to God even as the Victim which is offered to the Father day after day on the altar. In recent years 1 have often heard it said: "Why visits to the Blessed Sacrament if God is everywhere?" My answer, sometimes unexpressed, is: "Really, they don't know what they are saying. God is indeed everywhere, but 'come and see' (Jn 1:39) where the Lord dwells: this is his house." My appeal is not to arguments and discussion, but to the experience of living in the house of the Lord: "One with much experience will speak with understanding" (Si 34:9). ¯ "The Teacher is here and is calling for you"(Jn.l 1:28). Here those requests. rise s~ontaneously: "Lord, teach us to pray" (Lk l lr:l); "Explain tO US the" parable" (Mt 13:36). When we hear his words, we understand the expression of popular enthusiasm: "No man ever spoke like this man" (Jn 7:46),~or that of the Apostles: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life" (Jn 6:68). Then one understands by experience the significance of that sitting at the Lord's feet and listening to his teaching" (Lk 10:39; see Lk 24:32): 7he Mass in "My. Cathedral" / 333 This "cathedral" is the theatre of the most important act of the entire daily routine: the Mass. Christ is the true and supreme priest, the Word made man. It is a divine attribute to be contained in the smallest place and not_to be circumscribed by the universe. This tabernacle or little tent is not too small.for him, but the entire universe is not big enough to hold him. Each Mass has an infinite value, but under some personal circumstances and in ,some special moments this quality of infinitude .is felt more deeply. There is no doubt that the ~fact of being General of the Society of J~sus, with its 27,000 men consecrated to the Lord and totally dedicated to collaborate with Jesus Christ the Savior in all sorts of difficult apostolates, which may at times lead to sacrificing life in ~o.bloody martyrdom, carries with it a weight of responsibility and a profound sense of universality of its own. I Shall Go to the Altar of God In union with Jesus Christ, I, a priest, carry witl~in myself the entire body ofthe Society. The walls of,this littld chapel look as though they would crack. The tiny altar seems to be.come ~that heavenly "altar on high" iEucharistic Prayer I) where the prayers, of all tl~e members of the Society ascend to the Father "by the hands of his~holy a, ngel.".My altar resembles "the golden altar before the throne" (Rv 8:3)~ referred to in the book of the Apocalypse. If, on the one hand, I feel myself, ~s St. Igna~us would have it, "a sore and ulcer" (Spiritual Exercises 58), "nothing but an obstacle" (todo imped(mento), on the other hand I also find myself identified with Christ, "designated by God a high priest" (Heb 5:10), "ho!y, ,blameless, unstained, separated from sinners, exalted above the heavens" (Heb 7:26), "who has entered, not into the sanctuary made with hands, but into Heaven itself, now.to appear in the presence of God on our behalf".(Heb 9:24). With Christ I find omy~elf ~t.oo a "victim": "I saw standing before the throne., a Lamb as,though it has been slain" (Rv .5:6). The Mass begins on this altar; suspended, as it were, between heaven and earth. If I look upward, I can see the heavenly Jerusalem: Wits radiance l!ke a most rare jewel, like jasper:.clear as crysta!" (Rv 21: l~l). But ~I saw no temple in the city, ~for its temple is the Lord God, and the Lamb is its sanctuary" (Rv 4:2~2-23). If I look downward, I see "human beings~ on the face of the earth, in such great dive.rsity in dress and in manner of acting. Some a~e white, some black; some at peace, some at war; some,weeping,so~e laughi.ng; some well, some s~ick; some coming into the w6rld, and some dying.? (SpEx 106). I am profoundly impressed at seeing from this altar, thus suspended between heaven and earth, all the members of the~Society in the world, toiling and suffering in the midst of their endeavors to help souls, ~sent th~:oughout the whole world to spread his sacred doctrine among all men, no matter what their state or condition" (SpEx 145). How I wish that from this altar blessings may fall as a mighty cascade, graces of light and strength that they need at 334 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 eveiy moment. In this Mass Christ will offer hirrigelf, and I wiih him, on behalf of this worldand this Society of Jesug'. Again, if I raise my eyes towards th~ heavenly Jerusalem, I see God's infinite hdliness, "the Three Divine Persons, seated on ~he royal th~ohe of the Divine Majesty, looking down upon the whole surface of the earth and behgldi~ng all nations in great blindness" (S~Ex 106). Meanwhile the clamor of "We have sinned" surges all the time from the face of the eh'rth~ a clamor tha~ resOufids with the rumbling of a ca~ract: ~the thur~der of thy cataracts" (Ps 42:7); "Then I heard the noise., of many waters and tlie sound of mighty thhnderpeals~ (Rv 19:6). When I feel myself, like the "servant of Yahweh," bearing ~the sins of the Society, chiefly during my generalate, and my own countless person~ilgins', 1 appear "despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and as one from whom men hide their faces." (Is 53:3). Meanwhile I wish it might be said of me, as it was said of Jesus: ."0port him'was the chastisement that made us whole" (Is 53:5); "He was oppressed and hewas afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth" (I~ 57:7). Thus while I hear the great'penitential act of the Society: "Wd have finn&l, and hax~e acted perversely and wickedly" (l K 8:47), I feel myself "the last of all, ,as one untimely born, unworthy of being called 'a son of the So~ciety'" (~see I Co 15:8-9). This is precisely the feeling that pCrmits me to sympathize with the fallen and the straying, and to grasp the whole meaning of those words of the leiier to the Hebrews: "He can deal gently with the ignorant.and 'wayward since he himself is beset with Weakness, he is bound to offer sacrifice for ~his owh sins as well as for thos~ of the people" (Heb 5:2-3). '" ' "° Christ becomes "the mediator of the n~w covenant" (Heb 9:15). I, too, in union with the heart of Christ and in spite of ever~hing, 1.feel mYself to ~be a mediator, and understand why St. Ignatius designat~es, as the l~fimary function of the General of the Society of Jesus, that "he should be clbsely united with GOd our Lord and intimfite with him, that from the Lord, the Fountain of All Good, the general may',.so i~uch the better obtain foi the whole body of the Society, a l~irge share of his gifts and gra~s, and'algo a great power and efficacy for all the meahs which will be used for the help of souls" (Const 723). My position between God and. the Society of Jesus, as a pribst and during the celebration of the Eucharigt, is that of a "inediatOr between God and men," to "govern the whole body of,the Society . This he will do~rimarily'by his prayer which is full of desires and by his s, acrifices, to 'obtain the grace of preservation and development. : and on his own part he should hold these means in high esteem, and have great confidence in our Lord, since these are the most efficacious means of gaining grace from hi~ Divine Majesty, the source of what is longed for" (Const 789-790). The office of general thus considered appears in all its~ depth and in clear light: "Morning by morning he awfikens my ear. The Lord God has opened my ear" (Is 50:4-5). Aware of my being°a priest with the servant Of 7he Mass in "My Cathedral"/335 Yahweh, "I do notwish to be rebellious or turn.backward; I offered my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to those who pull Out my beard. I hid not my face from shame and spitting" (see Is 50:5-6). But how consoling it is to read in the sacred text: "When he makes himself an offering for sin, he shall see his offspring, he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand; he shall see the fruit of the trav~iil of his soul and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall, the righteous one~ my servant, make many 'to be accounted righteous,, and he shall bear their iniquities" (Is.53:10-11). The Offertory ~" I experience the profound feeling ofstandin~ before the God of mystery (arcano),.the~4gios athanatos (Holy Immortal One) and the Deus absconditus (the hidden God).- I feel that he is present in me and loves me as a father, that he is the fouritainhead of all life, and that' he accepts my offering. As I raise the paten, I.try to penetrate with the eyes of Christ, and with the light of faith, through the infinitude of the universe to the very heart of the Tririity: -"Blessed ~re 3;ou, God of all creation; through ydur goodness we have this bread to offer:."At the same time those .words,from the former offertory text come to my mind: ".-. which 1, thy unworthy servant offer to thee, the living and true God." All my unworthiness, faces,'me again: "despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief' (Is 53:3); "and he shall bear their iniquities" (Is 53:11). You know everything, Lord! As I raise the paten, if'seems to me that all my brothers ,gaze~at it., feeling themselves to be present:?'., and for all those around me." The paten seems to expand as "my innumerable sins and negli-gences" and those of others are accumulating along with the aspirations.and desires of the whole SoEiety. Like'Moses, lfeel that "I am not able to carry all this people alone; the burden is toffheayy for me" (Nb 11:14). I feel as though the hands of all the Jesuits of the v~orld would help me to sustain this most heavy paten, loaded with sins.but also with desires, hopes and petitions. I seem~ to hear the Lord say to me, as he said to Moses: "I will.take some of the spirit which is upon you and put it upon them; and they-shall bear the burden of the people with you, that you maY not bear it yourself alone" (Nb 11:17). And then, as though the paten would become lighter--or my arms stronger I am able~tb lift the patenhigher as if to place it nearer to the Lord. "And also for all faithful Christians, living and dead . and for the salvation of the whole world." I almost feel like fainting when faced with human malice and sin. 1 need that you. stretch out 'your mighty hand, Lord. "I stretched out the heavens alone, ~I~ spread out the earth. Who was with me?" (Is 44:24). Sustained by this powerful hand, I shall be able to carry on: "This bread will become for us the Bread of Life." I now take the chalice with the wine which will be changed into the blood of'Jesus: "Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this wine tb offer., it will.become our spiritual drink." t 336 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 This wine, fruit of the vine pressed down in the winepress and fermented, will be converted into the blood shed on the cross. This chalice, symbol of that cup that caused you to shed blood at Gethse-mane, .and that was so bitter that you wished you would not have to drink it, Will soon becrme the chalice of your blood~poured out for the salvatior~ of the world. Into it are now poured .the sufferings of so many Jesuits who, crushed in their turn, have given or shall give their lives for you in a bloody or unbloody manner, their tears,,their sweat., a foul, unsavory mixture,which, when united with your blood; will become pleasant and sweet-scented--the aroma of Christ (2 Co 2:15). ~: "We know that this is to be our lot. ,~to suffer affliction" ( 1 Th 3:3), but irresistibly impelled by your charity "for the love of God overwhelms us" (2 Co 5:14), we choose and beg "to be received under your standard . and bear insults and wrongs, thereby to imitate you better" (see SpEx 147): Certainly you have heard our prayer, for the cup is overflowing, but charity makes us to be "overjgyed with all our.affliction" (2 Co 7:4). This chalice, converted for us into,"a°fragrant offering and sacrifice" (Ep 5:2), is accepted by you as an offering pleasing to God (see Ph 4:18) and will become for us "our spiritual drink." ,, .~ Thu~, bowing before the throne of the Trinity, I can.say with the whole Church: "In the spirit of humility and. with a contrite heart, let, us be received by thee, O Lord; and grant that the sacrifice we offer in thy, sight this day may be pleasing to Thee, O Lord God." Our sacrifice--of Christ, of me, and of the whole Society, asa body united' in the charity of the Holy Spirit, members and head with Christ (see Const 67,1.). United also with "the bond of obedience"(Const 659)~ by which we all, as one man, offer the daily holocaust of our lives, "in which the entire man, without any reser~vation, offers himself in the fire of charity to his Creator and Lord (Letter on Obedience; March 26, 1553: MI Epp IV, 669-681). Our personal sacrifices, united in the da.ily community holocaust, constitute a total sacrifice-- our sacrifice of praise (Eucharistic Prayer IV). Preface and comecra~ion ,, From the heart itself of the Society spontaneously arises that acknowledg-ment: "Father, it is truly meet and just, it is our duty and our salvation always and everywhere to give you thanks:" Our song of praise would join tliat of the angels and blend it into a harmonious choir, every member of which sings in his own voice in.a multitude and diversity of tones, similar to that impressive, chorus formed by that "great multitude which no man could number from.all the tribes and peoples and tongues., crying out witha loud voice, 'Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb'" (Rv 7:9-10). Our song would join also ~that.of the Society triumphant in heaven, and that of all the saints: "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and might be to our God for ever and ever! AmenL' (Rv 7." 12). The Mass in "My Cathedral"/337 Following on this mighty chorus, I.seem to hear a striking silence. "Be silent before the Lord God! For the day of the Lord is at hand; the Lord has prepared a sacrifice and consecrated his guests" (Zp 1:7). "Be silent, a.ll flesh, before the Lord!" (Zc 2:1,3). "There was silence in heaven for about half an hour" (Rv 8: l). Let us, therefore, keep in the silence of our heart, as Mary did (Lk 2:51), everything that is .going to take place on "this altar .in heaven" (Eucharistic .Prayer IV), the mystery of the Passover, in which "Christ was immolated," the mys_tery of the Redemption of the world, the mystery.of the highest glorification of the Father.~"And they were filled with wonder and astonished at what had taken place" (Ac 3:10). The sublime moment of the consecration is drawing near.,In union with the whole bgdy of the Society,0identified with Christ, I hold the host in my hands and pronounce the words "This is my body"--my body, that of Christ; "This is thecup of my blood'--a solemn moment which can be noted only in awesome silence. ~ Christ converts the bread into his body and the wine into his blood, but the one pron.ouncing the sacramental words is I! This identification with him is such that I caia'say, "This is my bod~,,'-' but it is Christ's body! My inner self, is all ablaze--as if I felt the Heart of Christ beating instead of mine, or within ¯ mine! As though his blood was coursing through my veins at the moment of consecration! ~The mystical, sacramental separation of the body and blood of Christ is a reality and a symbol, but he who receives the body receives the whole Christ and he who receives the blood receives the whole as well. The redemption of the world was thus accomplished: incarnation, death, paschal mystery, ~salvation. All this is repeated at this moment in my hands. _I remain "filled with astonishment," yet "I believe, Lord,~help my unbelief (Mk 9:24). Christ in my. hands! The Lamb that takes away the sins of the world is not on the "highest throne" of the Apocalypse, but in my hands, as bread under the sacramental species I believe! At the moment of consecration the perfect glorification of the Father takes place. This will soon be exp,ressed in the doxology: "Through Christ, with him, and in him, in the unity of, the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor~is yours, Almighty Father, for ever and ever." . At this solemn moment I pause a while "in order to reflect and ponder upon what presents itself to ~mY mind (SpEx 53). How does the world appear from this altar? How does Jesus Christ see it? In order to understand this I mus.t enlarge my hear~ to world proportions. Like the Heart of Christ, the heart of the body of the whole Society must be enlarged, and with it the heart of each one of us. Ours must be a heart that embracesall men without exception, as did the Heart of Christ "who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth" (1 Tm 2:4), so that finally "there shall be one flock, one shepherd" (J~n 10:16). From this altar, between heaven and earth, one gets a better vision and 338 / Review for Religion, May-June, 1985 understanding of the needs,of men and women in the ~,ast ~vorld;:one sees and ¯ unders.tands, now in a new light, the impoi't of that universal'mission: "Go into all the world and preachthe Gospel to the whole of creation" (Mk 16:15), I. personallyfeel myself, as it were; hurled into the world, hnd withi!me the whole Society sent to the wide ,world. Thisqs its target, its~allotted tfisk, until it return again to g!orify the Lord; once the'battle-'for tile kingdom is won. " My ears keep ringing with those reassuring statements:'~"I ~send~ you"~ (Jn 20:21), and "I am with you.always" (Mt 28:20). These words fill ourhearts:. with donfidenc~, My incomparable:companion is Christ'himself; wh6 is pregent not only on this altar but within 'me, filling me with his divinity, and he: sends me to those Who'did not receive him (see Jfi 1:11). 'My response can 6n13~ be: "Lord; whai would you have meto do?" (Ac 9:6),'~and "What ought I t0do f6r Christ?" (SpEx 53). '" :~:- "~ ~ The body of the Sbciety;" in its full awareness of being sent and°strengthened with the power of God, feels rejuvenated and full of vigor and zest; it feels the blood' ~fChrist coursing through its veins, and the fullfiess of thi~ Spirii of Christ pbs~essing its~ve~y being, as if propelled by the rush of a'mighty wind (see Ac 2:2). ~Who.~vill be able to withstand this Society if it faithfullyfollows the line of mission pointed out to it by the Lord?The Societyknows~thai~the life of its members is:that of "men crucified to .theworld and to :'wh6m-the world is crucified" (see Ga 6:14), and that no one will be able to withstahd "the~ wisdom and the Spirit who speaks" in such men (~ee Ac 6:10), nor r~gist their Voice (Jdt 16:14): ~- , ~ The Our Father . ' The Father bfthe Society: all sons of the same Father, of the Father:who, at La Stortia, asked:the Son, loaded with the cross; to receive l~natiti~ as his servant, thereby confirming the name'of "Society°of Jesus.-': The Our Fathe'rqs the perfect pra3~er'for the individual and for the commufiity. "- Who are in heaven: A Jesuit must always look'hehvenwards. There is ,his Father and his fatherland. Our entire life is for. the kingdom. " ", 'You'r kingdom dome: All our labors would be of no avail without the di~ihe help in establiShing this kingdom. The whole Society asks for this grace.most earnestly because it knows that the success of all its undertakings hinges on the answer to this°farayer. Your Will lie done: We must cooperate with the divine will--for Wliiehit is necessary that we know it. ~ Give us, Lord, tlib sense of true discernment for knowing'at every moment what your will for Ug is. 'Keep on enlightening us to find ~our will, and~iving us the strengtli.~o fulfill it. ~ The Society's on13~ goal is the carrying'out of your will--your wilFmani-fest~ d in various ways; but especially through obedience. My responsibility, as Superior General of the Society, is very great,indeed. "To him all auihpHtyis given ad aedifica?idnem (for building up)!" (see Const 736). Your will'b~ done: The Mass in "My Cathedral"/' 339 may ,I never be an obstacle; may I never disfigure, misrepresent, or mistake your will for the Society. It is very painful to think that this might happen. Keep me faithful to your teaching, and ''never let me be parted from you" (the ,prayer°before Communion). ~ ~ . o I onside.r this to be a most necqssary grace. Therefore, bowing before the paten which holds your Body, I repeat this prayer again and again: Death a thousand times rather than to be separated from you! "As the Lord lives. wherever my lord the king shall be, whether for death or for life, there als0 will your servant be" (2 S 15:21)~ ~ With my eyes fixed on the consecrated Host; I present it to the brother who accompanies me in the celebration, and who takes the place.rof all the Jesuitk--just as with the first disciples who,saw Jesus when John the Baptist drew their attention to him. There they saw a man; here we see only a piece of bread. This is an act of true faith: believing against what we see. The act of faith in the Eucharist is indeed "a hard saying; who dan listen to it?" (Jn 6:60). No; Lord, faith in the, Eucharistic, Mysteryis not hard. It is rather a source of immense joy: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words ofete rnal life" (Jn 6:68). I believe! "Lord, I am not Worthy, but only say the word and I shall be healed" (see Mt 8:8), just as you ,healed the centurion's servant. The Society believes that you are~Lord; and wants to. shelter ~you under its roof: in our houses, in our churches in which we want to visit you and contribute to your glorification and cult.'~And.especially the Society wantsto sbelt~i~ you in the hearts of each one .~f us, and .in the tabernacles of each community, where they will-keep,.you .company and seek from you light, comfort and strength to carry out the mission you have entrusted to them. ~ ,, Enter, Lord, under the roof of your ~Society. We need you. There are so °many crises of faith, so mhny sophisticated'interpretations parading as scientifi-cally theological! At times even Christian piety is made light of, as though ,.these manifestations of solid and.~ lgnatian faith were antiquated superstitions. "Anti, my soul shall be saved:,~ Lord, do,not permit the Society,to.yield in this matter, or degenerate from ~what St. Ignatius wanted it to be. Eooking fixedly at thi~ white.Host, I fall on my knees; and 27,000 Jesuits° kneel with me, saying, with the Apostle Thomas; from the bottom of my soul, ~and with .unswerving faith: "My Lord and my God" (Jn 20:28). May the Body of Christ Bring Me to Everlasting Life Lord, keep the whole Society; keep me especially, since you have given me this office of such great responsibility. Communitarian communion; identifica-tion with Christ; a food that is not transformed but transforms. Body of the Society "Christified'--all united and converted into Christ himself. What bet-ter "union of hearts"! (Const) 655). "For me to live is Christ'~ (Ph l:21), now more than .ever. How well Nadal's observations fit in here! "Accept and diligently exercise 340 / Ri~view for Religious, May-June, 1985 the union wherewith the Spirit of the Lord favors you regarding Christ and his powers. Thus you may come to perceive in your soul that you understand through his intellect, will by his will, remember through his memory, and that your entire self, your existence, your life and your actions are realized, not .in you, but in Christ. This is the highest .perfection in this life: power divine, happiness beyond compare" (Nadal, MHSI, Orationis Observationes~ n. 308, p. 122). With this identification of the Society and of each member of the Society with Christ, our aposto!ic activity and our help to souls will gain in efficacity. Our words will be those of Christ who knows which is the suitable word at every moment. Our-plans and manner of apostolate will be precisely those with which th~ Lord will inspire us, which cannot fail to be fruitful--a "Society of Jesus," truly of Jesus, one with him. The Blessing of Almighty God How consoling and moving for me, as identified with Christ, to impart the .blessing, his blessing, to the universal Society, a blessing which cannot fail to be efficacious. This blessing goes to you, workers of the Lord's vineyard, scattered throughout the world and beset with so many difficulties: to you, who are bound to the bed of suffering by pain and infirmity, who offer~ your prayers and afflictions for souls, and for the Church and the Society; to you superiors, who bear a heavy responsibility, and have been entrusted with a task not easy in the present time; to you who are in charge of the formation of our young Jesuits, who are shaping the Society of tomorrow; to you coadjutor brothers, who, in a decisive movement of our history are going through a:profound transformation, and ~who are serving the Church and the Society with so much dedication and selflessness; to you young scholastics and novices~in whom necessarily rests.the hope of the Society for the future, in which 0yot~°ought to be men dedicated to the Church and to souls, in the ,Society deeply, imbued with the .spirit of St. Ignatius; to you very especially, who live in countries deprived of true feedom, who need to feel that the Society is very near to you and values your difficult ministry and testimony; to all of you in the furthermost corners of the world, in the most hidden rooms in our houses, in th~ remotest stations in the jungle. May the blessing of Almighty God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit descend upon you and remain with you always. The Mass in my cathedral is ended. "Go and set the world on fire!" Vocation: Where Gladness Meets Hunger J. Peter Sartain Father Sartain. ordained four years ago, is presently Director of Vocations for the Diocese of Memphis. He may be addressed at the diocesan offices: 1325 Jefferson Ave.; P.O. Box 41679; Memphis, TN 38104-1679. For the past three years I have vacationed with Mike, a friend from seminary days and a priest of another diocese. Inevitably our vacation conversations have turned to the subject of vocation: how~ we had both .discovered the importance :of staying in touch with the roots of our vocations meaning not simply that we felt called to be diocesan priests, but on a more profound .level, that we felt called' at all. We know each other well en6ugh ~o confront~and challenge each other as we discuss possible directions~for our ministry in living out our call. At times we would speak of specific hopes and dreams, our clearest p~ayerful perceptions of our call. Thus it was~that Mike told me he had a deep desire to live a simple lifestyle in community, to Work with the very po6r, and to have some experience ¯ of the desert. In the months that followed this conversatiofi we corresponded about his efforts to start a Catholic Worker community in'his diocese. Event~- ally those efforts,proved unfruitful~ or at. least ill-timed. That was little more than a year ago. F0i'4he past ten months Mike's letters have been postmarked "Zimbabwe," where he was sent with a team from his diocese:to inaugurate a mission. The mov,e happened very fast, but ~e both knew it was right. Not long ago Mike wrote that he realizes his new.ministry is just what he had hoped for--he shares the poverty of those he serves, Who are among the poorest of the, pbor; and the "desert" within is fed by the desert without: his territory has not~een rain in more than two yearS. It.is a difficult mission, and 341 ~42 / Review for Religious, ~May-June, 1985 the transition has not been without its struggles, ~ ~ My friendship with Mike, our sharing with one another the movement of God within us and our pra~,erful support of each other have taught me a great deal about my call and about "vocation" in general. In this article'I will reflect on an understanding of vocation which has proved helpful for me and those to whom I minister as Director of Vocations for my diocese. I do not propose to address every aspect of a complete theology of 9ocation but to offer a frame-work which may help contextualize one's understanding of his or her call to service in the Church. Gladness and Hunger In Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC Frederick Buechner proposes an insightful definition of vocation: "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."1 -From the moment I read it this definition struck deep chords within me, for it resonated with my experience of myself and of the Gospel. God calls each one of us to authentic happiness and to service; and these two dimensions of God's call meet in an honest and prayerful search fortruth~ ~ Discovering Our Deep Gladness If anyone wisbes to come after reel he must deny his very self, take up his cross, and begin to follow in my footsteps. Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life,for my .sake will find 4t (Mt 16:24-25). ~ . Jesus" challenge of self-denial has always intrigued me as.I have,sought to deepen my. response to. his invitation to "come after me." Teilhard d~ Chardin . . . lays ddwn two ~ospel imperatives, self-developnient and " renunciation. The first call of'the Gospel, he says, is'to utilize our talents, develop our, " gifts, and construct our human life. Only then does the call to total ab_negatio_n make sense. We are called to renounce everything and give our life to,,tally back to Ggd. But we must first possess ihat life in~ order to give it away3 At the center of each Christian vocation is an on-going call to know oneself. No response to God's call can be immediately whol#, in the sense that none of us is totally in touch with our_ livesat any one point in. time, especially in the. early, stages ofoformation. One who ~senses a call from God, then, ~ begins a life-long process,of gaining self-knowledge. I believe this search for'self-knowl-edge, when seen in the light,of the search for God and a lovefor God's creation, becomes~a,search for one's "deep gladness~? Authentic happiness lies not in doing what makes me happy but~in being f~ully whorl,am--learning the truth about myself and living it for God and his people, ~possessing" my life so that I can give it back to God. This search can, take place~ authentically only in the context of prayer. "l:hose who pray are inviting the Spirit into their lives; and those who invite the Spirit into their lives are inviting the truth--about God, about themselves and. about the world around them . . Vocation: Where Gladness Meets Hunger The. Fear .and Freedom of Truth There can"exist simultaneously within us a deeply curious,ahd burning need to know ourselves and a consuming fear about what we will find within. ffhere can be~the suspicion that~ what we will find will be unacceptable, or unlovable, or at least something other than that for which w6 had hoped. Nevei'theless,o;the Christian who, genuinely struggles0to follow the Lord will cbme~face-.to~face ,with truth. Living~the Gospel means learning the truth, for as we seek to enflesh the words of Jesus, the Word of Truth enlightens us. If you live according tb my teaching, you are ii'uly my disciples; th'en yo~ will know the ~itruth, and the truth will set you free (Jn 8:31-32). ~° ' Jesus ~ys, "The truth will set y0ia free." Jesus the Truth liberates; it'is lies which enslave. We do not have to look far to see that lies really do ensla e: ~t is the lie that says: "All people are not fundamentally equal" which perpetuates policies and practices of discrimination across the gl6be; it° is theqie that sa~,s: "Unlimited possessions are my due" which causes half the world to go to bed hungry each night; it is the lie that says: "Deep within each of i~s there is some unspeakable ugliness" which can keep us frotri being-freed~-by the ~truth. Lies en~lave, the trtlth sets fre~; and one cannot come to a saving encounter with Trtith 0with0~it facing the truth about-oneself. ~ The"call to~cbnversi~)n can be wrongly interpreted as a call to becoming 's~)ihething I am not, as tho, ugh, somehow, my 'natural condition as God's child. include"~ "unacceptability." But con~,ersion does not m~an becoming acceptabl~ to Gbd. This misapprehension can'be abetted by a pervasive but distorted view 6f the~ human person which carries tile body/soi~l dichotohay to the ultimate degree. Then it is that I become c0n~inced that my body is the worldly/sehZ "~tial/sinful 15art of my existence, and my soul is~the othei'~-worldly/spiritual/i'e-deemable part. Such a view of the human person ~ould only' lead to an unhealthy spiritual dualism which pretends' that only "good" tho~Jghts and "positive" feelings are "worthy" of Gbd; "bad" thoughts and'"negaiive" feelings are therefore to be avoided, even denied at all costs sinc~they originate in the d~irkness of that'"~)ther" part of my being, the part of me which God tolerates but does not cherish. SuCh dis~tortions militateagainst any substantial growth toward wholeness, and th~ Christians who are enslaved 6y them will meet continually with frus-tration' as~ they~find that their "unspiritual" bodies arid "worldly~ thought~ s~mply will not go away. For them, the search for triJ~ih will be a frighte~ng enterpri~; a journey into an unfriefidly and ungodly void. " ~ F6~tUh~tel~, G~Sd does not have designs solely on,our souls. P~ul mak6s this clear in the closing blessing o~" his letter to the Th~ssalonians: May the God of peace make you perfect in holiness. May he preserve you whole and entire, sprat', soul,'and body, ~rreproachable at the coming of our Lord Jesus Chris. He who calls us is trustworthy, therefore he will do it (! Th 5:23-24). For the true disciple of Je'sus conversion rather mean~ transformation in :344 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985' Christ; it embraces a new way of liying in love. Conversion does not mean denying who I am, but acknowledging thar.I am not whole without Jesus, and accepting the wholeness he wishes to bestow on me. Moreover, conversion involves, being fully who I am--holy and unholy--in.Jesus, and discovering in prayer and life with others that only in confronting the truth about myself and holding that,truth up to the light of the Gospel will I be truly free and "deeply glad." The full truth is that I am the sinner redeemed, the enslaved set free, the beloved called t6 love. For ma~y people coming to that full truth is not easy. For them truth is something to be feared, not embraced. ,~They are frighten.ed by the nagging suspicion that at the center of their hearts and heads there is really s0m~eone wh~ is~unattracfive and abnormal, someone certainly not called by God. They are haunted by the~ fear that at the center of their lives there is no "deep gladness," but only a painful sadness. The Fruit of.~Honesty The fear of truth is played out jn a number of w.ays in.houses of formation. It can be manifested in anger, defensiveness, a purely passive submissiveness to authority, and everything in between. Formation ministers, then, r~ust be honest people people so in tune with the freedom of truth that they create an environment which values and demands~b, onesty in every forum. In evaluating ~ndidates they must speak the truth gently but directly~ realizing that any-thing but.clarity is useless and potentig!ly even harmful. They must make evident in themselves the sine qua non, that one must be honest in prayer, spiritual direction, ministry,friendship and self-evaluation; that avoiding the-risk involved in revealin.g oneself to another means avoiding growth, avoidihg a liberating and truth-filled gladness. It goes w, ithout saying that professional counseling~-and the opl~ortunity to inte~rate~ it with spiritual direction--should be readily available for those ministers whrwish to avail themselves of it. To avoid the truth about oneself is to feel, hu.nger yet refuse food. The Church needs ministers who want t~ face the truth. . In writing just now of coming to know oneself I have not mentioned the obvious that the Perso~n who really knows him or herself wil),hapl~ily dis-cover that they really do possess even ~unused talent and untapped potential. I have seen many extremely talented peo~ple--people whose i~bility was widely known and often praised who neverthel'ess were deeply unhappy. They were blind to their talent because they were convinced that the truth about thehaselves was not acceptable. Th~y'~oncluded that any praise directed to them was given only out of sympathy or out of "Christian charity." Often they busied them-selves 'doing too ma~y. things, and their hyper-activit~, ~left~them tir, ed~ and unfulfilled--and sad. Our talents will remain untapped and any use of them apologetic until we discover deep within us ~he uncompromised and joyful love of God. We Vocation: Where Gladness Meets Hunger / 345 ca, nnot discover that love until we seek, with the help of Others, ,to know ourselves honestly. And we cannot hope to know ourselves unless we pray, inviting the Spirit of Truth to abide in us. Henri Nouwen has written: Only in the context of grace can we face our sin; only in the place of healing do we dare show our wounds; on|y with a single-minded attention to Christ can we give up our clinging fears and face our own true nature. As we come to realize that it is not we who ¯ live, but Christ who lives in us, that he is our true self, we can slowly let our compulsions melt a~way and begin to experience the freedom of the children of God.a "Deep.gladness~ comes with the incredible revelation that Christ is our true self and that he calls us from within. Our~deep gladness resides foundationally in kno.wing the truth about our-selves and discovering in that truth the overwhelming love and acceptance of God. The truth frees us from the lies which enslave us and enables us to use our talents Confidently and generously. It causes us to boa~st in the weakness which i~ntensifies ou~r hunger for.God. It teaches us tooffer totally to God what we know to be ourselves. And it liberates .us to see clearly the hungers of the world and to minister to those hungers with a burning gladness. A Hungry World ' I sometimes feel uneasy around the poor, partly because they unwittingly remind me. of my comfortable lifestyle and partly because they challenge me to live a life of true justice. An experience during my seminary~days in-Rome had a profound effect on me in this regard. On the feast of the Epiphany I had gone with a group of seminarians to St. Peter's Basilica for the celebration of the Eucharist at which the pope would be presiding. Halfway through the Mass a friend ~became oill and had tO return tothe seminary;I decided to a.ccompanyohim. Shortly after leaving tl~e basilica we noticed a small, shabbily-dressed woman following us; she appeared to be one of the many poor who live on the streets of Rome, At first we paid little notice, but'~Padually sh6 drewl.up tb within a few feet of us. We assumed that she was going to ask for money, burmuch to our surprise she simply inquired of my friend, ''What's wrong with you?" When he explained that he was not feeling well she took us both by the arm and led us hurriedly to a nearby bar. She ordered two glasses of hot milk into which she stirred several 'teaspoonsful of sugar, and~ three large cream-filled pastries (one for herself). Now we assumed we would be asked to~.~pick up the tab, but tb our total amazement she paid for everything. After admonishing us for not taking better care ofourselves'she told us to eat and drink up.~Then she said she had to be off to Mass because it was a feastday. We never saw her again. That little Italian woman taught"me as much about love as anyone I can remember; she spontaneously and joyfully nourished a hunger I did not know i had: the need to learn to love spontaneously and without conditions. Mother Teresa of Calcutta has written: "In heaven we will all be surprised to find how our poor have helped us to become Christ-like in love and compas- 3~16 / Review f or Religious, May,June, 1985 sion.,4 On that Epiphany l~witiaessed a simple, Christ-like love, and I learned something more about my vocation. ,4 New Vision Self-knowledge is the foundation of the spiritual life; but that is not to say that spirituality is merely a gutsy, prayer-laden introspection whose purpose is to help one feel good about oneself. Prayer itself is suppos~ed to be a two-way street, l seek to know myself that I might possess the life I am giving back to God; I pray that I might know the God to whom I am giving myself; through prayer and self-kngwledge I allow God to open my eyes to the hungers -bf his people~ and hear Jesus' call: "Feed my lambs." The progression, then, is circular: living the Gospel helps one know the liberating truth about God, self and others~ and the.resulting free, dom allows one to learri how t~ live the Gospel more frilly. Nouwen has rightly observed that in ministry one makes visible~vhat is seen in contemplation: "The contemplative life'is a life witha vision, and'~the. life of ministry is a life iri Which this vision is revealed to others."5 Through prayer the eyes and heart of the believer~are gradually transformed into the eyes and heart of the Lord; and having acquired this new vision the beli6ver makes it palpable in life and ministry. Having seen with God's eyes "the hung~e~ of God's people, the Christian senses~a call to'attend those hungers-:-because-iri the faces of the "hungry" is seen the face of Jesus himself. Letting the Lord shap~ our vision or better, 'cure our~blindne~s is a gi~adual process and an important l~art of ~onversion. I'think of the story of the blind man at¯ Bethsaida: , ¯ When they ~irrived at B~thsaida, some people brought him a blind man and I~egged him to touch him. Jesus to6k~the blind man's hanOI and led him outside the .village. Putting spittle in his eyes he laid his hands on him and asked. "Can you see anythingT~The man opened his eyes and said~ ~I can see people but they look like walking trees!" Then a second time Jesus laid hands on his eyes, and he saw peff~ectly; his sight was restored and '~e could see ever3~hing clearly (Mk 8:22-25). Mark .uses this story to illustrate that the disciples~of Jesus only gradually open their eyes~ to ,see ,things as he sees them, just as the blind man 0nly gradually received his sight through repeated contact with Jesus . ,At its heart, conversion means,allowing the Lord to shape our vision through prayer and a~truth-seeking.meditation on his word, and then respond-ing to what we.see. A ~'~ne~w vision" does not mean that things external to us have changed, but that we see things in a new~ and proper light. In ,his poem "Journey of the Magi" T. S. Eliot presents the retrospect of one of the astrol-. ogers who had traveled to Bethlehem to see~the Christ-child; what he had ~een changed and unsettled him: ,~ o, All this fffis a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all float way fo'r Vocation: Where ,Gladness ,Meets Hunger /347 "'~irth or Death? There was a Birth, cei~inly, We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, ' " ¯ . But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our deatl~.' We returned to" our places, ,these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here~ in the old dispensatiofi, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.6 Thevision of Jesus is an unsettling vision, a vision marked by an active ' impatiqnce and a passionat~ dissatisfaction with,r,tbecondition of the worl, d~It is a vision which abhors indifference and is ariimated by hope. It is a vision which can s!ngle out the individual in the nameless~ suffe~ring crowd, and embrace an entire people, having seen one h~urti~g face. It is a vision of compS|ling truth and compassionate l~'e. Our Vocati6n in Jesus It iS precisely~in ~he unsettli.ng ambiguity of a vision which is hopefu~l in the face of hunger that we sense our vocation. Here it is that we hear the Lord telling us to transform our impatience and disSatiSfaction inio active love, as he has done before us. Here we begin to know that it would make us "deeply happy to respond m the name of God to the hunger~ we see. Here we realize that our vocation is, m fact, the vocation of Jesus himself. Ifi the synagogue at Nazareth Jesus revealed his vocation through a passage from the pr.oph~y of Isaiah: The,Spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring gl~d tidings to th~ poor, to proclaim liberty to ¢hptives, Recovery of sight to the blind ." and release to pnsoners, ~ - ,,. .To announce the year of favor from the Lord (Lk 4:18-19)~, Having been~anointed with the Spirit of Truth, Jesus'finnounced that his vocation was to bring glad tidings to the poor and hungry, freedom to the enslaved, and new vision to the blind. He lived his vocation, and he calls others to do likewise.~. ' '~ Christians discerning their vocaiions must be attentive to the signs of the ¯ times with the sabne.prayerful passion with which'they seek to know themselves. They must be students of culture and current events as well as theology, and they' must strive for a, sense' of compassion which, is world-wide in its scope. God's love ki~ov~s noclass distinctions or' national boundaries. Vocation ministers have a responsibility to challenge those in'formation to understand the prophetic nature of the Gospel, and t~o reject as !nadequate any view of ministry which seeks tl~e salvation of the soul but not of 1he whole person or of society. The attention given to the Church's social teachings today helps candidates for ministry understand the un-evangelized condition of the 348,/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 world and the perspective wh!ch is offered to that situation by.the Gospel. Our ~social tradition does not offer specific solutions to every social problem, how-ever, nor should it. Candidates, then, should be given tools to evaluate for themselves what tfiey see around them in light of the Good News. I have learned the most ih life not from people who taught me what they thought, but from people who taught rn'e how to tl~ink. Ministers who have been given tools to think for themselves will be not only more self-confident but ultimately more effective. Like the Beadle Moch~ in Elie Wiesel's Night they will learn tO"pray to the God within me that he will give me the strength to ask him the.right qtiestidns."7 If I value the freedom of truth I will respect the freedom of others." Hunger is not only global and physical, nor is it found only in tenements or on street corners; it is als0 fotihd in the Church. A friend recently.told me that one reason he is considering the priesthoodis because he sees a c.rying n~ed for strengthening communities of faith on the parish level. As a professional.in his early 30s he knows how difficult it is to find support for Gospel values in the marketplace, and his experience of parish life has not always given him or his peers the community support and insight needed for applying the Gospel to everyday life. As he strives to be a better Christian he is often struck by the success of other Christian denominations in formihg communiiies of ~uppon and e~an-gelization. He sees the pri.est ~s a ledder of the faith cbmmunity and recognizes his own talent foi" leading, communicating and creating community. He is asking whether for him priesthood might be the place wherehis gladness and a real hunger meet. The hungers of the world are as many and varied as our gifts. The specificity of one's vocation will emerge as self-understanding and self-love grow into an appreciation of what one has to offer God's people. Truth will meet truth in prayer when self-knowledge comes face-to-face with a cldar, unsettling, inviting vision of the hungers of the world. And that truth will be enlightened by the confident hope won for us in the paschal,mission of Jesus. "What Is Needed Is Trust" Another fruit of prayer and the Christian life is trust. Trust enables us to remember God's deeds on our behalf and gives us confidence that he will care for us now as he has in the past. It enables us to take steps which otherwise we ~would be terrified to take---especially when a vocational~choice confronts us. Answering God's call.means choosing to love in whatever way.love is needed-- it does not mean choosing a new job; and trust in God is needed in order to say "yes" to such an unclea r future. In one of Mike's recent letters he was reflecting on our ministries, his in a mission in Zimbabwe and mine in vocations and personnel work in Memphis. He wrote: Both of us planning and preparing to be parish priests now end up in ministries we each would never have dreamed of and would have run full tilt from if we'd gotten wind of it~ Vocation:~ tVhere Gladness Meets Hunger / 349 before ordination. Maybe that's why Jesus said "Today has enough troubles of its own"---what is left out in that verse is ~lf you knew the troubles of tomorrow you'd be scared to death." Funny they 'don't print t, hat stuff in the Bible. Must They Look for Another? Captive in Herod's prison John the Baptist sends his disciples to Jesus to ask him a question which both scandalizes and indicts us: "Are you 'He who is to come' or do we look for another?" (Mt 11:3). Jesus responds by pointing out the x;ocation he is fulfilling: Go back and report to John what you hear and see: the blind recover their sight, cripples walk, lepers are cured, the deaf hear, dead men are raised to life, and the poor have the good news preached to them (Mt I 1:4-5). The Baptist's question is asked today in countless languages and is born of countless hungers. Jesus responded in his day by, telling John to see in his ministry the fulfillment of Isaiah's prophecy. In our day we can hear our vocation in the question. The Spirit of Truth °helps us discover our deep gladness in sharing the victory of Jesus with God's hungry.world as only each of us can do. NOTES I Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A TheOlogical ABC (New York:. Harper &' Row. Pub-lishers, 1973), p. 95. ~Ernest E. lmrkin~ O. Carm., Silent Presence: Discernment as Process and Problem (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books Inc., 1981), p, 13. ~Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Way of the Heart (New York: The Seabury Press, 1981), p. 30. 4Mother Teresa in a letter to a group sponsonng a~ fund-raising activity on behalf of her ministry. ~Henri J.M. Nouwen, Clowning in Rome (Garder~ City, New York: Image Books, 1979), p. 88. 0T. S.'Eliot, "Journey of the Magi." in T. S. Eliot~."~ Se'lected Poems (Near York: Harcourt~ Brace &" World, Inc., 1964), pp. 98. 7Elie Wiesel, Night (New York: Bantam Books, oi982), p. 3. Mary:= Our Encouragement in Christ Donald Macdonald,= S:M.M. FAther Macdonald'is~vdil kno~,n to our readers. His=How It Strikes a ContemlJomry" appeared. in the January/February issu~ of ifiis yeai. He may .be addressed at St. Joseph's;,Wellington Road; Todmorden, Lanc,; OLI4 5HP; England. ,, Whatever the origin of the phrase "When the disciple is ready the teacher will appear," it seems to be universally valid. If ! am not using the bread and butter which is immediately at hand, I need not expect nourishment from richer more ex~)tic food to be found elsewhere. It will prove indigestible to a starved or weakened system. Equally, having used whatever is available I am perhaps ready for more_substantial fare. Saint Paul ~aid as much centuries ago: "l fed you with milk not solid food; for you were not ready for it; and even yet you are not ready" (1 Co 3:2). The variety of retreats, seminars, courses on offer to-religious today worldwide can illustrate this. Some go to them looking for what they cannot properly give. Not all take as mui:h as they had hoped back to their everyday lives. By the~ same token it is not unfair t'o say that not all of those offering guidance on these courses are qualified to do ~so. Academically they may be ¯ competent and their teaching technique'acceptable, but, presumably, what the Christian enquirer is looking for is more than a combination:of these two skills. One need scarcely go to a Christian institute for that. This is in no way to denigrate the academic, but to suggest that it may not be enough to throw light on the meaning of Christian existence. To restrict the guidance to that level may be to largely miss the point. With so many voices competing for the religious' time and attention how is one to choose? How best use what may be on offer? In the light of the opening sentence it might be practical to heed its-implicit warning. Rather than first scan the brochures and programs with a view to finding light and encourage-ment elsewhere, why not ask oneself.how one is using the resources of one's 350 Mary: Oub Encouragement in Christ own neighborhood? Supposing I choose to go on a course in a twelvemonth from.now, how can I be sure that I am today making best use of what my ordinary environ-ment offers? This would be a.genuinely worthwhile preparation for wheat is. to come. We are open to so very many influences, from the prophets and evange-lists to the anonymous advertiser and third-rate magazine. What other people think can be a dominant influence, none the less powerful for being much of the timeun.~recognized. Is there, therefore, a Christian influence for good in my local area that I-have not tapped and, maybe, ignored? Undoubtedly; there may be several, but I wish to suggest that, unfortunately, perhaps Our Lady may be such for some of us. This is regrettable as "Mary. is. clearly a teacher of the spiritual life for individual Christians."~ A Guide Must See For anyone to,offer guidance presumablyone ~nust see ~A light speaks i'or itself. Arguably one reason for the lack of vocation and commitment among some re!igious is that they, do not see. "As our Congregation is now I,would not encourage anyone to join," is a remark widely heard: A sister at-a gathering of religious,was struck by the sad, tired, almost featureless faces of so many. She thought,of~her.mother and sister who had,lived particularly hard lives, yet seemed,,younger and more alive than her.religious sisters about her.Within such a context~it is unrealistic to call people to follow when self-evidently they do not see the way: "If the tru~mpet gives an.uncertain note, who will get ready for battle?" (1 Co 14:8). ~ There is a degree of insecurity in all of us. The~best of us has but partial vision, "for we walk by faith not by sight~ (2 Co. 5:7). It is all the more encouraging therefore to live in the company of a woman who has known the ¯ fearful insecurity that day-to-da~ life can present, and within that situation,has seen God. "Blessed are the pure of heart ,for they shall see God", (Mt .5:8). Our Lady, immaculate from the moment .of her conception has, therefore, never been coarsened by sin, and has been given in full measure the blessing of seeing God. Her heart was a sheer capacity to receive whatever God would give her: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you., for he who is mighty.has done great things for me" (Lk 1:28, 49). She is thus alert and alive to God ~eyond anything we can understand. So full of the Holy Spirit, that the Word of God once taken root in her heart became enflesl~ed in her body, so that "the child to be born will be called holy, the Son ofGo'd" (Lk 1:35). No creature has ever assimilated the Word of God so complete!y "a.s the Holy Mother of God and the worthy Associate of the Redeemer."2 In other words, "God who had special!y, chos~n~me ~vhil~ still in my m~ther's v~omb, called, me through his ~race hnd chose to reveal hi~'Son in me" (Ga 1:15). If those words ar,,6 true of aul whht d~ they say of Mary? Her entire person is "clothed i~God'i ~hb, i,n her case especially, has taken every thought . . . prisoner, captured to be brought into obedience to Christ" (2 Co 10:5). So, at one with the will of God 352/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 that she is instrumental, in the providence of God, in bringing into~the world a .neck creation in her Son: "For anyone who is in Christ ther~ is a new creation; the old creation has gone, and now the new one is here. It is all God's work" (2 C,o 5:17). She is'the mother of God, a new creation in Christ. Following the biblical tradition, one so pure must see so Clearly. It is God's Spirit who enlightens."The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will Overshadow you" (Lk 1:35), says it all, Her eyesight she shares with most of us. Her insight isa giftfrom God. The unutterable, andin her case, unfettered holiness of God is so present to her, "that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit Within you which you' .have from God. You are not your bwn" (1 Co 6:19). So the Spirit generates the capacity~to See God every-where in a sacramental world, from the joyful expectation of the ~birth-of her Son, to standing crucified with him on Calvary. To see is, therefore, not necessarily to understand, butto b-eliex~e whole-heartedly arid commit oneself totally to God present in every circumstance, so "that I might live to God, I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I wh6 live;~but Christ Who lives in me; and the life Inow live in the flesh I lix~e by ;faith in the Son of God who lo~ed me and gave himself for me" (Ga 2:19-20). Once true of St. Paul, how much more of Our Lady? Her humanity really earths her among us ~s her faith, and so her insight, finds her blessed among us all. She believed, entrusted God with the gift of herself--"Lo me, God's hand: mayd~'---in the lovelywords of Julian of Norwich's translation which seem to express the. courage in vulnerability of every young person with life before them.3 The result is a person wholly "dead to sin and alive,to God in Christ Jesus" (Rm 6:11~). As such, she will leave an enduring mark on the human race, representing light for so~ many as over the centuries "deVotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary is an indication of the 'Church's genuine piety., because it takes its,origin and effectiveness from Christ~ finds its complete e~pression in Christ, and leads'through Christ in the Spirit to the Father.TM Much of this is beautifully focused in Psalm 131. She,might have sat for the portrait,~ ~ O Lord'my heart is not proud nor haughty my eyes. ~ I have not gone after things too great ',n,or marvels beyond me.~ Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace. As a child has rest in its mother's arms, :even so is my soul. " This is the mind of one ~ho sees. Thei~e is no~ a :superfluo~s .word. Eve'ry-thin~ per~pheraihas been stripped away leaving a faith which is'real without b~i~ig"~m~talli~:. MuCh (hat th~ world might ~c~ffei" has been seen and seen through. There is no ~uggestion' bf fear of life, ri~the~ its 'acceptance. :~'Hae 'po~t fiyes life,, takes his stahc~ ~th~n it, not escaping from it. Silence and peace are both powerful and positive possessions'~sugg~ting Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ'/ ~great assurance--in the poet's cage, in God'. His faith is such that it best expresses itself in the child asleep in his mother's arms, the symbol offserenity and trust~ We will never know the price thepsalmist paid for such faith, but the image he presents unmistakably reflects the genuine article. This is why it can speak to us of Our Lady. It is the single gaze of one who looks oh life,from within the vantage point of faith in God, in h~er case, "because God by calling you has joined you to his Son Jestis Christ; and God is faithful" (1 Cb 1:9). Here is the"un~hanging core of changing circumstances: The, religirus looking for a guide to Christian living could' gain much if willing to open themselves to such~agaze "an immense reservoir of silence and pe~ice tested b~y life. The Blessed Virgin Mary offers a calm vision and a reassuring word to modern man."5 This comes from the heart of existence, as Christian reality would have us see that "you are the body of Christ and individually, members 6f it. If bne member suffers, all suffer togethei'; if one member is honored all rejoice together" (1 Co 12:26-27). Remarkably; both Our Lady and the individual religious are "neither male nor,female; for you all one in Christ Jesus" (Ga 4:28). Whatever concerns one concerns the other, and prirticularly in Our Lady's case, the law of the body is lived to "owe no one anything except to love one another" (Rm 13:8). This governs the interchange between them, taki.ng nothing away from ~her preeminent place in the com-munion of saints."6 It isall of a unity as in a living body, yet neither loses their identity. The medium of exchange is knowledge and love heightened in grace, and nothing in human experience is more personal than that. - So the image of mother ~nd child, powerful in any culture, represents a genuine Christian reality. It needs only to be seen to be understood:~ ~and going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother" (Mt 2:11). :~.'. "But standihg by the cross of Jesus [was] his mother" (Jn 19:25), one in flesh and spirit with her Son"at so many levels. ,, "In the Virgin Mary everything is relative to Christ and dependent upon him. 7 That same stance in Christ sh~ takes with us today--however life treats us: The compassionate mother, "so oned in love" ~'ith us in her Son, not least in our suffering and insecm'ity, can bring a depth' of realism to~ the present moment which can transform it in faith.8 Hilaire Belloc superbly expresses what many have seen when, incensed ata Protestant bishol5 ordering the removal from a church of a statue of "a female figure with a child," he felt impelled to respond: Prince Jes~s in mine agony Permit me, broken and defiled Through blurredand glazing eyes to see A female figure with a child. "Ballade of Illegal Ornaments" This is, of course, the prayer of one who sees one of the most comforting realities of the Catholic faith. The vision is from within the everyday Christian community. Belloc's singular poetic gift may express it, but it stems from his common Christian faith. Reality really is like that. There is a realism, purity, ~.354 /Rg.viewfor Religious, May-June, 1985 warmth and concern in the engagingyulnerability and strength of mother and cliild that can clarify the Christian °vision. H,~ere the religious ~n stay today, making grateful, explicit acknowledgme_nt in wooder, that "now the life you have is~hidden with Christ in God. ~.,.~ he is your life" (Col 3:3).,.It is a pr,esent reality not a future hope, seen solely by faith. It is su~,ely no footnote but must follow~ logically, that God having created suc.h a delightful person must-want her known and loved. Clea.rly she means everything to her Son, and whatever the human .race aspires to as all generations call her blessed,.it comes a poor sec0nd~ to how God has loved her in.~Christ. "He wills it to be known ,that all whodeligh(in him should delight in her too, with the same pleasure he has in her and she in him."9 In this instance the medieval~mys.tic only~articulates what the authentic Catholic voice has always known. ¯ G'~do."loved tier for his own sake andhe loved her for our sake too: he gave h~r to himself and he gave her also to us."~0 The disciple was only the first of many who having heard the.crucified Christ say "Behold your mother," from that instant takes her into his own home (see Jn 19:27). For so many she "can walk into the.heart without knocking," as Chesterton said of Doctor Johnson. A Guide Knows The Path An additio.nal, reason for deepening our awareness of the presence of Our Lady is that. because of her calm, God-centered gaze she can help us put together the pieces of a sometimes fragmented life. Part of the ~reason for atte_ndin.g courses and seminars is the hope of learning how to cope with the puzzling present. She, is an ,integral, if ancillary, part of "God in Christ. " reconciling the world, to himself"(2 Co 5:19). She can thus help us see Christ~, ~as~from his conceptiowto ascension and subsequently,,she is intrinsically part of his life, not some external charitable "meals on wheels'? servic~e. Some seem to,see M~ry as a distraction, almost a maverick, drawing attention away from what God has done for us in Christ. So, for example, a London based journalist once wrote of the visit of Pope Paul VI to Fatima,that this wasa clear sign that he should resign. By going there the pope showed that he was obviously afraid of, the contemporary.world and for the Church's place in it, and so he visited ,Fatima as a man might regress to childhood when the adult world becomes all but unbearable. , One did wonder at this opinion when newspapers carried reports oLa million or so people at Fatima at the same time as the Holy Father. One should, of course, be careful of countingheads, but it might ~have given the journalist pause, pontificating from a typewriter in London, exercising power without the responsibility which burdened the pope, to consider whether at least some of those pe0ple~saw something which he did not? "Devotion to the ~Mother of the Lord becomes for the,faithful an opportunity for~growing in divine~grace, and this is the ultimate aim of all pastoral activity."~ Another ,journalist, writing of the present pope's evident ttevotion of, Our Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ / .355 Lady, sees it as something specifically of the man, and not for the' ChUrch. It stems, the journalist"believes, from losing a sick mother when he was nine, -having no sisters, and the on the whole harmful influence of Saint ~Louis-Marie de Montfort'steaching, as well as the particular history of Poland/,Although Pope~ John Paul is a twentieth-century figure, because of~his backgroimd, and not"least the tragic history of Poland leaving such an individual ma'~k on his devotion to Our Lady, "the rest of us can only look on admiringly and wonderingly.''~2 Again, should one be surprised at the journalist writing~so confidently and patronizingly for "the rest of us," speaking presumably for the Christian Catholic world? It is just possible that the pope; too, carl assess the psychological, theological and national influences on himself at least as well as~ the journalist, and has come to a different conclusio~i. One might also consider that whatever influences produced such a twe~ntieth-century Christian man, might be welcomed in a cofitemporary Church suffering i~large part from loss of nerve. Journhlisti~ opinion,is legitimately free. It is un]'air to the'writbr and unwise of the reader to read it as Gospel. o One recalls thejou~rnalist G. K. Chesterton writing of Mary and thdconvert. He came across a rather garish image' of Our Lady in Italy when he wa~ hot yet ¯ a Catholic. "I never doubted that thig was the figure of the ~Faith; that she embodied as a complete human bein~ still only human all that this Thing had to say to humanity. The instant I remembered the Catholic Church I remem-bered her; when I tried to forget the Catholic Church I tried to forget her; when I finally saw what was nobler than m~y fate;the freest and liArdest~of all my'actsbf freedom, it was in front o'f a gilded and very gaudy little imhge of her in'the port of Brindisi that I promised the thing thht 1-would do if I returndd tO my own land."~3 Chesterton delighted ifi the title'0f Catholic and journalist, and Our Lady did:not ~'ragment the faith ,for him. Of course one might research Chesterton's pdsgibly romanticiz6it picture of~ English history, ~is attachmi.~nt to Geoffrey Chaucer, his domestic circumstan-c~ si andso construct an explanation of why.he believed as he did. But ~iould that tell the whole story? OneO~an build'virtually anything on ass~mptidn and inference. The subjective is in the eye of thebeholdei'-.-and assess'0r, tbo ~' wh6 ventures what is at l~e~t an0educated guess. Meanwhild' life ig to be li~ed~= ~2hesterton could never have kept his feet and 'his humor in'his contemporary~ wdrld ona diet of rom~intici~srri, no more than Woiild ~the present pope who tias been brought up in a particularly hard ~cho01. Such men-know'what :the~ believe. Life has tested it. In every individual Christian experience, surely space has to be allowed for" the'presence of the Holy Spirit. This0is~the one Constant factor in everyorfe's life which can never be properlyasgessed. The column may add up to Our satisfac-tion, but in any account of the individhal Christian life the ~fnswer can only be provisional',~a~ so aiuch" can never be known, "for the Spirit reaches, the'depths of everything,~even the depths of G6d . 'Now instead of the spirit of the world we have received the Spirit that comes from God; to teach us to under, 356 /"Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 stand the gifts that he has giyen us" (1 Co 2:!0, 12). The Spirit gives light enabling us to see. If those words are true of the ordinary Christian and Corinth seemed encouragingly full of such pe0ple.---what do they say of Mary? . They speak .volumes for ourselves. They deserve~ time for wonder, reflection and assimilation. Consider a woman who never at any instant put self-will in the way of t6e Spirit's enlightening, energizing presence? As ever, the best that can be sai~ of the Christian is preeminently true of her, as ~'God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us"- (Rm 5:5). Here lies the key to Our Lady as a guide to the Christian, helping to find a ,w9y among so many conflicting paths. Many, enlightened by that same Spirit, "above all . . . had recourse to the Virgin,s intercession in order, to obtain from the Spirit the capacity for engendering Christ in their own souls,"~4 She is~ seen radiating the glory of God. There is no suggestion of the esoteric or the Gnostic. Mother and child imply responsibility. Their needs are .imme-diate and practical. The religious, enlightened by the Spirit to respond to such a God-given presence, will be none the worse f6r the cold douche of realism such company brings. God,is always, in th~ situation but never at our beck and call. Mother and Son have walked every step of the road on earth, "obedient unto death, even death on a cross" (Ph 2:8). Familiarity in their case breeds affection and compassion enc.ouraging us to integrate life in faith. A Guide Leads Home Finally, besides helping the religious to see an~l integrate life in God, Our Lady can also reflect the radiance of God's glory. As with the earlier word "delight, fu!," "radiant" is not immediately associated with faith. This isin part because., while the transcendent is real, it is continua~ lly neglected though never in Our Lady's c.omEany. Her personal experience of God left an unfor-gettable imprint upon her. "For:it is the God whq said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' w.ho has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge.of the glory of God inlthe face of Christ" (2 Co 4:6). ff the impa, ct of God in Christ ¯ on Pau~l can~, only be compared to the creation of light, what do those words say "of the Blessed Virgin's free consent and cooperation in the plan. of redemption .w)5 Realityis Christ-centered. Everyone and everything is illumined by his light enab~ling us to see what God islike (glory). The present.moment is then transformed. We need such light to see what,is really ~there, to begin to gfimpse Christian existence. OutLady's .strong, selfless, evocative presence can only help, "for it is not ourselves that we are preaching, but Christ Jesus as the Lor.d, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake" (2 Co 4:5). The words are Paul:s_but the sentiments Mary's too. There is the perspective in which she lives one person in Christ with ourselves. The contemporary religious does not have, a.surfeit of authentic Christian support t9 afford to neglect such a person. And this, let it~be empfiasized, is to be-found in the heart of the Church now, quite literally for the taking. When Paul then goes on to marvelously outline what should be basic Christian experience if only we ~.w,~.h_e speaks Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ / 357 above all for Our Lady, as indeed he speaks for us: "And we with .our'unveiled faces reflecting like mirrors the brightness of the Lord, all grow brighter and brighter as we are turned into the image that we reflect; this is the work of the Lord who is Spirit" (2 Co 3:18). Here is genuine Christian visior~, tl~'e'meaning of religious life. The glory of God in Christ transfigures us progrdssively insofar as we ar~ open to the love of God in the present moment~ Life is God giving himself to us in Christ in every circumstance not excluding death. 'Living in faith in Such a world we become like what we see. "Now we are seeing a dim reflection in a mirror; but then we shall be seeing face to face. The knowledge that I have now is imperfect; but then I shall know as fully as I am known" (1 Co 13:12). That knowledge and vision Our Lady now enjoys t~afisfigured in God. The religious might wish that of the many influences on him~known or unknown, the light of God in such a person might not be the least, "for it is impossible to honor her who i~ 'full of grace' (Lk 1:28) without thereby hofior-ing in oneself the state of grace, which is friendship with God, communion with him and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. It is this divine grace ~vhich takes possession of.the whole man and conforms him to the image of~ the Son of God. (Rm 8:29; Col 1:18)."~6 ~ Living like this implies that contemplation is basic. "Contemplative" does not mean arcane, esoteric, unreal. It is the attempt to live in the present, aware of what~is there; alive to God in Christ now, rather than pining for.a past memory or future hope. Wherever we are God is. The conteml61ative sees the connection. Categories of timd, place, occupation, structure, people, no longer 'shackle as the moment is transfigured in Christ. To the outsider with no faith, it may seem to be attempting to rationalize a welter of characters and evefits into a rather complex artificial plan, rather like the coach planning tactics before a game. But given faith working through love (see Ga 5~6), the Christian finds it progressively simple, though not easy, rather like the player moving almost by reflex once tlie game begins. The time for discussion,is over. Nowis the time for action. To be effective.the need is for interior silence,~stillness and assimila-tion or how else can ond r~cognize what is happening? If there'is,no center only'the peripheral can register. The world of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven might be accessible inthe room in which this is being read, but unless the radio is turned on, and turned to the correct wavelength, it will n~ver be heard.To be unaware of such a world is a pity. To be conscious of it, yet unwilling or unable to switch-it on is real impoverishment. Religious life today may be a Chastening experience, though none the worse for that, perhaps humiliating us~ as we~at last see that nowo~'my one hope and trust is that I shall never have to admit defeat, but that .now as always I shall have the courage for Christ to be glorified in my body whether by my life or by my death. Life to me of coursb is Christ" (Ph 1:20-21). We need~help. We have help if only we see what i~ there. Looking elsewhere for guidance in seminars, retreats and courses is sensible and worthwhile, all things being equal, but, as 1 have tried to suggest, perhaps &~$ / Rey~w for Religious, May, June, 1985 secondary. Even the qssential restructuringof religious~ life may do more for the .system than for the individual~if it leaves me untouched (see, Perfectae Carita-t/ s, n. 4).~A rebuilt community reflecting subsidiarity, psychological well-being .and~pr.acti~! relevance may not be ,enough for meaning eyen if it is for occupatign.~ The danger lies in taking my identity from what I am doing or ot.ber people's estimate of what I am doing. As has been seen so.often these past twenty ye~.rs or s0, once circumstances c~hange, so, too,, can the religious, who~:~nhappily, fiod themselves virtually naked, alone and afraid as the struc-ture which gave th~em stability changes yet again. Their identity came essentially from 0u~ide of th~emselves. What does one do? Build another structure? -.Yes, in part, but as an imperfect person in an imperfect world I cannot expect too much from that. The new model is using the same all too familiar building material. Much better, surely,~to~shouldo'~.more personal responsibility as did Our Lady, who, "in her own,,Particular life, she fully and responsibly accepted the will of God (see Lk 1:38). the first and the most perfect of Christ's disciples."~7 As i cannot realistically legi.slate for anyone else, what room for maneuver, do I have myself?. The scope is immense. ~. . A contemplative reading of the Gospel might suggest that the worid is harsher than,ever we believed possible. Our Lord, we recall, was_crucified with his mother ~s~nding beside him. That is horrific and all too recognizable today. The patterh '.is plainly set out in the Gospel, "for we were so utterly and un~bearably crushed that we despaired of life its'elf., but that was.to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead; he delivered us. '~ and he .will deliver us; on him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again" (2 Co 1:8-10). Note the tenses of those verbs! There speaks authentic Christian experience up to and including the present day. Perhaps I have to make-that experience mine as did Our Lady, St. Paul and countless others? It is a recurring cycle and can ferrify the individual"botl~ in fact and in anticipation. The natural tendency is to run away to another job, anotheg~course, another structure, another place, another explanation. While very understandable, the Gospel does not suggest that salvation is found in that. If there~is any validity in what has been written here, why not look within ones~elf? Since I am christened, perhaps there is more going for me than-I have yet known? God is in every sit .uation everywhere. God is to be glimpsed in.Our Lady~ Saint Paul, the sisters who taught me catechism as a child, and in so many mo~. True, God needs none of these to reach me, no more~than he need use Church or sacrament. But I do need guidance, encouragement and vision. .I need_ .light. Inevitably this means that I need people: ~for .I longto see you . twant to be among you to receive encouragement myself through the influence of'your faith on me as of mine on you" (Rm4:l 1-12). ~ .Left to myself, with my scaled-down model of God made largelY, in my own image, my religious life might be spent with the small changeor petty cash of experience. What a pitiful waste! Whereas with the strong, challenging, Mary:. Our Encouragement 'in Christ understanding presence of Our Lady at the heart of the ~hurch as reflected in the Gospel, I migh[ (will?) find in her_~omp~ny a light which ha§.brought so many to her Son in the centuries of the Church. One in Christ through baptism, even if only partially glimpsed, will show that she is no more of a static fixture in a stained glass window than I am myself. It is not' the juxtaiaosition of immobile figures in a quasi,infinite hierarchy. There is no need to attempt some uneasy collage. That is for a museum not the Church. "Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?. So that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life?" (Rm 6:3-4). "All of us" are alive in Christ! Our Lady, so graced by God as to be supremely one in him, is therefore especially alive and active. The clo~er one is to Christ the more one is alive and active. She compels no one. She is simply there. As to the cautionary opening sentence of this article--the Christ!an disciple by reason of need alone ought always to be ready for help. Sub tuum praesidium is a very ancient prayer. NOTES ~Marialis Cultus, C.T.S., London: 1974, n. 21. ~ 21bid, n. 15. ~Julian of Norwich, A~Re'velation of Love, ed. M.rGlasscoe, Exeter: 1976, eh. 4. ¯ 4Marialis Cultus, Introduction, pp. 8-9, .'~ .5lbid, n. 57. 61bid, n 28. " 71bid, n. 25. o s Julian of Norwich, op. cit., ch. 18. 9Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, e~l. C. ~/oltors, London: 1973, ch.~25. ' iOMari~lis Cultus, n. 56 " ~ ' °. " ~qbid, n. 571 ,2p. Hebblethwaite, "The Mariolo~y of Three P0pes,t' Way Supplement, No. 51, October, '1~984, p. 68. " ~3G. K. Chesterton, The Well, and the.Swallows, London: 1906, p. 176. ~ ,, ~ ~Marialis Cultus, n. 26. ~5lbid~ n. 6.~ : ~Ibid, n. 57. ~Ibid, n. 35. Information to.,Transformation: An Integrated Spirituality for theoReligion Tea cher J. J. Mueller, S.J. Father Mueller came to St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies in the summer of 1994 from Gonzaga University (Portland) where he had been teaching theology. He may be addressed at St. Louis University; 3634 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108. Most articles begin in predictable ways: a statement of purpose, a thesis, a definition, or perhaps a description of the topic ~at hand. This one will be different, not to be different but to shake the cobwebs from what we have become familiar with. Let's begin with a flight of the imagination. Imagine yourself as a visitor from another planet on ~mission to investigate th~ educational habits of earthpeopl~. You have visited the North American continent because it has beautiful blue oceans bordering it which doi~ exist on your pl~anet, and as long as you have to make a long trip in the galaxy you might as well choose a beautiful setting. While fact-finding, you discover that there are two educational systems. You have visited the public school system and now it is time to visit the private system, particularly the Catholic schools. You are beamed down.to from your spaceship to the school (where 5;ou' are piesently teaching). Looking at your school, you as the other-world visitor discover a teacher who does not exist in the other system: the teacher of religion. Your curiosity is piqued. You conclude that by occupation these teachers of religion serve a unique educational role and distinguish the character of Catholic education. Perhaps they have special power in the society? No, it seems that the occupation of a teacher of religion is a powerless job; that more than 99% of the population does not seek the job but wants others to accept the job. Perhaps a teacher of religion cams more money, then, because the job is so selective? No again. 36O o ~ Information to Transformation Religion teachers earn less than most people and even less than fellow teachers. ~Well, perhaps a teacher of religion is a terrible service jobthat no one wants but ."someone has to do it?" Wrong again. The schools themselves state that the reason they are a rival education~il-system is precisely to educate students with rrespect to religion. As a'~isitor from another planet, you are becoming frustrated trying to analyze exactly what the teacher of religion is. Underpaid, overworked, and not receiving the i~ppreciation he deserves, a teacher of religion does not resemble any other occupation. Perhaps, then, a teacher of religion is a kind of spiritml person unique to .this society? No again. Religion teachers seem to be no better or worse thhn anyone else. They don~tbecome presidents or even principals,' let alone bishops or saints. There may not even be a patron saint for religion teachers. Then perhaps religion teachers are like grandparents who keep tradition alive and transmit wise moral norms? Wrong again. Reli-gion teachers are often considered iconoclasts, reactionaries, andparents can be heard to utter the judgment: "They donX teach the doctrine that I learned at school." With the spaceship ready io leave, you have to make the final report. Y6u write, "Religion teache~:s are the most unique teachers inall the earthly world. They function as teachi~rs but are more like spiritual leaders. It ~secms that humans aren't chosen for this role but, instead, a few offer to commit themselves to this role thereby becoming public symbols of what life is all about. By occupation, they seem to represent what is distinctive of Catholic education. They carry the traditions of the earth and at the same time create the possibil-ity of a better future. Perhaps they could be summed up as those in education who work at informing students about the'transforming quality of human life. With this report, the visitor returns to a planetofar, far away. My flight of the imagination has less to do with an exercise of the imagina-tion than a new congtruct by which to appreciate the unique role of the teacher. of religion in our world. Our alien's report that "humans aren't chosen for this role but, instead a few offer to commit themselves to this role"expresses what I think is the essential element in religion teaching and the topic that I wish to address. The teacher of religion is one who commits him or her self to the occupation of transforming others. As a commitment, the occupation most resembles a vocation, i.e., a "calling." We use the word~ vocation in education--for example as in vocational training--to signify occupations. I mean "vocation" both in that sense--a person has, an occupation or job as a teacher, andin the sense of a spiritual charge--a person responds to a faith community to discharge faith responsibil-ities of that community. The teacher of religion then lives the dual role of teacher and minister. it seems to me that some reflection should be done on the integration"of these two responsibilities in light of the commitment. In theological talk we are speaking about'spirituality. Spirituality means the behavioral.living out of. 362 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 Christian faith through particular religious convictions and commitments. Although many possible spiritualities exist and more wiil occur, I believe that the teaching of religion makes a consistent claim for an integrated spirituality that brings together the various respon.sibilities, or obligations, ~of a church, school, family, and individual wherein life is interpreted. At the same time the responsibility proceeds in the same manner: from information to transforma-tion. In sum, an integrated spirituality unifies the pr~ocedural dynamic_ within the various communities 'of interpretation. Rather than speak about how to teach religio.n, this presentation focuses upon.the religion~teacher. The concern is not the pedagogy in.the classroom, i.e., how to present material, but how. to live both inside and outside the classroom influenced by the commitment to teaching religion .within a faith community.~The model of spirituality that I offer comes from the model of student-te~acher relatignship of Jesus and hisofollowers: what we call disciple-ship. Discipleship as Jesus defined it in action is.unlike any other. ~The relation-ship between Jesus and his disciples reflects the relation of Jesus to God. Discipleship to~day continues to take as its model the relationship of Jesus to God and the disciples' relation to¯ Jesus. The relationship of Jesus to the F~ather, and the disciples to Jesus has three stages: God calls a person in a given situation, one hears in a situation, and then that person is sent out or what is called missioned. Part I: God Call~ Us ° The first important factor is that the teacher of religion is a Christian who believes. Never is a religion teacher considered a mere communicator of knowledge. The teacher is expected to be living alife of faith. Very~ simply, to live a life of.faith implies an ongoing commitment to the self-communication of~ God. For the Christian, the interpretation of belief resides in Jesus Christ and the power of his life that flows out actively in our own day through the Holy Spirit. The believer then becomes a disciple in the twentieth century in continuity with Jesus' life,.death and resurrection. To be a disciple, according to the synoptic Gospels, implies "to pick up one's cross and follow me." What, is the nature of this cross for disciples? In mode~rn language we~might describe it as the "cross of reality".where God calls us in our situation today. If you will imagine~ ~a cross like Jesus died on. with horizontal and vertical lines, then the disciple, like Jesus. embraces the extremes of each crossbar with most of the body centered in the middle. The four dimensions of the cross of reality are: backward, forward,, inward and outward. These are the four extremes that comprise our situation to hear God and respond accordingly. Backward Backward : means the past. It implies two thousan~l years of Christian tradition inserted into a longer historical tradition wherein .I find myself today. Information to Transformation / 363 I am.born into the :middle of a' story that is unfolding, Hence the weightof that tradition rests upon me. I am an individual believer within that tradition and I possess a communal identity. The teacher of religion is not free to discard this tradition and the identity which, flows forth: whether Scrii~ture, the doctrinal history of the Church, or the history of the Church herself. Because we are constantly being re-created in~ continuity with our past, we .Christians have long memories that speak of .God's continued interaction with us: If ], am. to respond as a disciple today, I :cannot betray.my past. Forward Forward means the future: It implies .that Christians do not stan~d still like settlers but move ever outward like pioneers. As pilgrims "on the way" who journey through life with feet solidly set upon the earth, we seek thekingdom~ of God where love reigns and,empowers everything. Hence~ Christians are-people of hope who depend upon the re-creative actipn of the Holy Spirit to make all things new. The teacher of religion proclaims this forward transfor-mation of life in love as .the purpose of all that we do . ~ Inward . ,~, , ~ ~ -~,~Inward means the individual.° It implies that God has given me_~lJrimary-responsibility over my own self. I make the decision either to center everything in,my life in God or not. My physical environment'which is called a body, my~ psychological and emotional life;and myspirit comprise my inwarddimension. These o.too are influenced~ by-other .factors such as family, chemicals, ~disease, temper~ament and love. Hence, beinga Ch.ristian implies being totally in.touch with the various dimensions of.what constitutes me as a human beingin order to hand everything of my self over to the Lord.The teacher of religion is a believer who continually works on this inward dimension of handing his or her very self totally over to the Lord. - Outward ~ ,~ Outward means other people. It implies all the social relationships which comprise human life. No one is an island and Christian belief never stops with the,individual. It is thoroughly corporate, first in those who believe called church°and secondly in the connect

Issue 43.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1984. ; Pliz~hhihg :the N~Vitiate Process = °~i"~ !~ta~D o"es a Religious Institute Owe Its Members? :,~-~:: A Retreat for the Eighties Volume 43 Number 4 July/August, 1984 RE\'~w FOR Rl~.~(;~otJs ( ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. I.ouis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis. MO 63108. Rt-:v~l-:w t:oR Rl~t.l~;~otJs is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus. St. Louis. MO. © 1984 by Rl~v~l~w ~:OR Rl~l.l~;~Ot~S, Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. I.ouis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per ycar (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write Rl-:Vll.:W ~-oR R~.:t.t~;~otls: 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. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July/August, 1984 Volume 43 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be senl 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 I-'OR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprinls are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Redemptionis Donum: An Expression of Love for Religious John Paul H In his letter of April 3, 1983, to the bishops of the United States inviting them "to render special pastoral service to the religious" of their dioceses and country, Pope John Paul wrote: ". as pastors of the Church, w~ must proclaim over and over again that the vocation to religious life God gives is linked to his personal love for each and every religious." Redemptionis'Donum is a solemn instance of his own efforts to do just that. As such, it forms a fitting cap to the series of articles REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS has been publishing in recent issu.es in support of.this episcopal ministry to religious. The text which follows is taken from Origins, April 12, 1984, vol. 13: no. 44. Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ Jesus: 1. The gift of the redemption, which this extraordinary Jubilee Year emphasizes, brings with it a particular call to conversion and reconciliation with God in Jesus Christ. While the outward reason for this extraordinary jubilee is of a historical nature--for what is being celebrated is the 1,950th Anniversary of the Crucifixion and Resurrection--at the same time it is the interior motive that is dominant, the motive that is connected with the very depth of the Mystery of the Redemption. The Church was born from that mystery, and it is by that mystery that she lives thrrughout her history. The period of the extraordinary jubilee has an .exceptional character. The call to conversion and reconciliation with God means that we must meditate more deeply on our life and our Christian vocationqn the light of the Mystery of the Redemption, in order to fix that lift and vocation ever more firmly in that mystery. While this call concerns everyone in the Church, in a special way it con-cerns you, men and women religious, who, in your consecration to God through the vows of the evangelical counsels, strive toward a particular fullness of Christian life. Your special Vocation, and the whole of your life in the 481 41~2 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 Church and the world, take their character and their spiritual power from the same depth of the Mystery of Redemption. By following Christ along the "narrow and., hard" way,~ you experience in an extraordinary manner how true it is that "with him is plenteous redemption" (copiosa apud eum redempti.o)? 2. Therefore, as this Holy Year moves toward its close, 1 wish to address myself in a particular way to all of you, men and women religious, who are entirely consecrated to contemplation or vowed to the various works of the apostolate. I have already done so in numerous places and on various occasions, confirming and extending the evangelical teaching contained in the whole of the Church's tradition, especially in the magisterium of the recent ecumenical council, from the dogmatic constitution ~Lumen Gentium to the decree Perfec-tae Caritatis, in the spirit of the indications of the apostolic exhortation Evan-gelica Testificatio of my predecessor Paul VI. The Code of Canon Law, which recently came into force and which can in a way be considered the final conciliar document, will be for all of you a valuable aid and a sure guide in concretely stating the means for faithfully and generously living your magnificent vocation in the Church. 1 greet you with the affection of the Bishop of Rome and Successor of St. Peter, with whom your communities are united in a characteristic way. From the same See of Rome there also reach you, with an unceasing echo, the words of St. Paul: "I betrothed you to Christ, to present you as a pure.bride to her one husband.'~ The Church, which receives, after the apostles, the treasure of marriage to the divine Spouse, looks with the greatest love toward all her sons and daugh-ters who, by the profession of the evangelical counsels and through her .own mediation, have made a special covenant with the Redeemer of the World. Accept this word of the Jubilee Year of the Redemption precisely as a word of love~ spoken by the Ch'urch for you. Accept it, wherever you may be: in the cloister, of the contemplative communities or in the commitment to the many different forms of apostolic service--in the missions, in pastoral work, in hospita!~s or other places where the suffering are served, in educational institu-tions: schools or Universities--in fact in every one of your houses where, "gathered in the name of Christ," you live in the knowledge that the Lord is "in your midst.TM May the Church's loxiing word, addressed to you in the Jubilee of the Redemption, be the reflection of that loving word that Christ himself said to each one of you when he spoke one day that mysterious "follow me"~ fxom which your vocation in the Church began. Vocation And Jesus, Looking Upon Him, Loved Him 3. "Jesus, looking upon him, loved himTM and said to him, "If you would Redemptionis Donum / 48:3 be perfect, go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.'n Even though we know that those words addressed to the rich young man were not accepted by the one being called, their content deserves to b~ carefully reflected upon, for they present the interior structure of a vocation. "And 3esus,~looking upon him, loved him." This is the love of the Redeemer: a love that flows from all the human and divine depths of the redemption. This love reflects the eternal love of the Father who "so loved the World that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.TM ,~ The Son, invested with that love, accepted the mission from the Father .in the Holy Spirit, and became the Redeemer of the World. The Father's love was revealed in the Son as a redeeming love. It is precisely this love that constitutes the true price of the redemption of man and of the world. Christ:s apostles speak of the price of the redemption with profound emotion: "You were ransomed., not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot," writes St. Peter.9 And St. Paul states: "You were bought with a price."'° The call to the way of the evangelical counsels springs from the interior encounter with the love~ of Christ which is a redeeming love. Christ calls precisely through this love of his. In the structure of a vocation, the encounter with ,this love becomes ,something specifically personal. When Christ "looked upon you and loved you," calling each one of you, dear religious, that redeem-ing love of his was directed toward a particular person, and at the same time, it took on a spousal character: it became a love of choice. This love embraces the whole person, soul and body, whether man or woman, in that person's unique and unrepeatable, personal "1." The one who, given eternally to the Father, "gives" himself in the Mystery of the Redemp-tion, has now called a human person in order that he or she, in turn, should give himself or herself entirely to the work of the redemption through member-ship in a community of brothers or sisters, recognized and approved by the Church. Surely it is precisely to this call that St. Paul's words can be applied: "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit.? You are not your own; you were bought with a price."~ Y~es, Christ's love has reached each one of you, dear Brothers and Sisters, with that same "price" of the redemption. As a consequence of this, you have realized that you are not your own, but you ~belong to Christ. This ,new awareness was the fruit of Christ's "loving look" into the secret place of your heart. You replied to that look by choosing him who first chose each one of you, calling you with the measurelessness of his. redeeming love. Since he calls "by name," his call always appeals to human freedom. Christ says: "If you wish . "And the response to this call i§, therefore, a free choice. You have chosen Jesus of Nazareth, Redeemer of the World, by choosing the way that he has shown you. tll~4 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 If You Wish to .Be Perfect. 4. This way is also called the, way of perfection. Speaking to the young man, Christ says: "If you wish to be perfect . "Thus theidea of the "way of perfection" has its motivation in the very Gospel source itself. Moreover, do we not hear, in the Sermon on the Mount: "You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect"?.~2 The calling of man to perfection was perceived in a certain way by the thinkers and moralists of the ancient world, and also afterward, at different periods of history. But the biblical call has a completely original nature. It is particularly demanding when it indicates to man perfection in the likeness of God °himself.~3 Precisely in this form; the call corresponds to the whole of the internal logic of revelation, according to which man was created in the image and likeness of God himself. He must therefore seek the perfection proper to him in the line of this image and likeness. As St. Paul will write in the Letter to the Ephesians: "Therefore be imitators of God as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself upfor us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God."~4 Thus the call to perfection belongs to the very essence of the Christian vocation. It is on the basis of this call that we must also understand the words which Christ 'addressed to the young man in the Gospel. These words are in a particular way linked to the mystery of the redemp-tion of man in the world~ For this redemption gives back to God the work of creation which had been contaminated by sin--showing the perfection which the whole of creation, and in particular man, possesses in the thought and intention of God himself. Especially man must be given and restored to God if heis to be fully restored to himself. From this comes the eternal call: "Return to me, for I have redeemed you.''15 Christ's words, "If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have, and give to the poor" clearly brings us into the sphere of the evangelical counsel of poverty--which belongs to the very essence of the religious vocation and profession. At the same time, these words can,be understoodin a wider and, in sense, an essential way. The Teacher from Nazareth invites the person he is address-ing to renounce a program of life in which the first place is seen to be occupied by the category of possessing, of "h'aving," and to accept in its place a program centered upon the value of the human person, upon personal "being"---with all the transcendence that is proper to it. Such an understanding of Christ's words constitutes, as it were, a wider setting for the ideal of evangelical poverty, especially that poverty which, as an evangelical counsel, belongs to the essential content of your mystical marriage with the divine Spouse in the Church. Reading Christ's words in the light of the superiority of "being" over "having," especially if the latter is understobd in a materialistic and utilitarian Redemptionis Donum / 485 sense, we, as it were, touch the very anthropologial bases of vocation in the Gospel. In .the framework of the development of contemporary civilization, this is a particularly relevant discovery. And for this reason, the very vocation to "the way of perfection" as laid down. by Christ becomes equally relevant. In today's civilization, especially in the context of the world of a well-being that is based on consumerism, man bitterly experi¢nces the essential incom-pleteness of personal "being" which affects his humanity because of the abund-antand various forms of "having." He then becomes more inclined to accept this truth about vocation which was expressed once and for all in the Gospel. Yes, the call which you, dear Brothers and Sisters, accepted when you set out on the way of religious profession touches upon the very roots of human-ity, the roots of man's destiny in the temporal world. The evangelical "state of perfection'~ does not cut you off from these roots. On the contrary, it enables you to anchor yourselves even more firmly ih the elements that make man man, permeating this humanity which, in various ways, is burdened by sin, with the divine and human leaven of the Mystery of Redemption. You Will Have Treasure in Heaven " Vocation carries with it th6 answer to the question: Why be a human person--and how? This answer adds a new dimension to the whole of life and establishes its definitive meaning. This meaning emerges against the back-grou'nd of the Gospel paradox of losing one's life in order to save it--and on the other hand, saving one's life by losing it "for Christ's sake and for the sake of the Gospel," as we read in Mark.t6 In the light of these words Christ's call becomes perfectly clear: "Go, sell what you possess ~nd give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.''t7 Between this "go" and the subsequent "come, follow me'; there is a close connection. It can be said that these latter words determine the very essence of a vocation. For a vocation is a matter of following the footsteps of Christ (sequi: to follow, hence sequela Christi). The terms "go. sell.' give" seem to lay down the precondition of a vocation. Nevertheless, this condition is not "external" to a vocation, but is already inside it. For a person, discovers the new sense of his or her humanity, not only in order "to follow" Christ, but to the extent that he or she actually does follow him. When a person does "sell what he possesses" and "gives it to the poor," he discovers that those possessions, and the comforts he enjoyed, were not the treasure to hold on to. That treasure is in his heart, which Christ makes him capable of"giving" to others b~y the giving of self. The rich person is not the one who possesses, but the one who "gives," the one who is capable of giving. At this point tile Gospel paradox becomes particularly expressive. It becomes a program of being. To be poor in the sense given to this "being" by 4116 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 the Teacher from Nazareth is to become a dispenser of good through one's own human condition. This also means to discover "the treasure." This treasure is indestructible. It passes, together with man, into the dimension of the eternal. It belongs to the divine eschatology of man. Through this treasure man has his definitive future in God. Christ says: "You will have treasuie in.heaven." This treasure is not so much a "reward" after death for the good works done following the example of the Divine Teacher, but rather the eschatological fulfillment of what was liidden in these good works here on earth, in the inner "treasure" of the heart. Christ himself, in fact, when he invited his hearers, in the Sermon on the Mount, ~s to store up treasure in heaven, added: "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."~9 These words indicate the eschatological character of the Christian vocation. They indicate even more the eschatological nature of the vocation that is realized through spiritual marriage to Christ by the practice of the evangelical counsels. 6. The structure of this vocation, as seen from the Words addressed to the young man in the synoptic gospels,20 is traced little by little as one discovers the fundamental treasure of one's own humanity in the perspective of that "trea-sure" which man "has in heaven." In this perspective, the fundamental treasure of one's own humanity is connected to the fact of "being, by giving oneself." The direct point of reference in such a vocation is the living person of Jesus Christ. The call to ~the way of perfection takes shape from him, and through him in the Holy Spirit who continually "recalls" to new people, men~and women--at different times of their lives, but especially in their youth--all that Christ "has saidTM and especially what he "said" to the yo.ung man who asked him: "Teacher, what good deed must ! do to h~ve eternal life?"~2 Throughthe reply of Christ, who "looks upon" his questioner "with love," the strong leaven of the Mystery of the Redemption penetrates the consciousness~, heart and will of one who is searching with truth and sincerity. Thus the call to the way of the evangelical counsels always has its begin-ning in God: "You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide."~3 The vocation in which a person discovers in depth.the evangelical law of giving, a law inscribed in human nature, is itself a gift. It is a gift overflowing with the deepest content of the Gospel, a gift which reflects the divine and human image of the Mystery of the Redemption. "In this is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be thb expiation for our sins.TM A "Fuller Expression"of Baptismdi Consecration 7. Your vocation, dear Brothers and Sisters, has led you to religious pro-fession, whereby you have been consecrated to God through the ministry of Redemptionis Donum / 487 the Church, arid tiave been at the same time incorporated into your religious family. Hence the Church thinks of you, above all, as persons who are "conse-crated": consecrated to God in Jesus Christ as his exclusive possession. This consecration determines your place in the vast community of the Church, the People of God. And at the same time, this consecration introduces into the universal mission of this people a special source of spiritual and supernatural energy: a particular style of life, witness and apostolate, in fidelity to the mission of your institute and.to its identity and spiritual heritage. The universal mission of the People of God is rooted in the messianic mission of Christ himself--prophet, priest and king--a mission in which all share in different ways. The form of sharing proper to "consecrated" persons corresponds to your manner of being rooted in Christ. The depth and power of this being rooted in Christ is decided precisely by religious profession. Religious p~ofession creates a new bond between the person and the one and triune God in Jesus Christ. This bond develops on the foundation of the original bond that is contained in the sacrament of baptism. Religious profes-sion "is deeply rooted in baptisma.I consecration and is a fuller expression of it.'~ In this way religious profession, in its constitutive content, becomes a new consecration: the consecration and giving of the human person to God, loved above all else. The commitment undertaken by means of the vows to practice the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty and obedience, according to the determinations proper to each religious family as laid down in the constitutions, is the expression of a total consecration to God and, at the same time, the means that leads to its achievement. This is also the source of the manner proper to consecrated .persons of bearing witness and of exercising the aposto-late. And yet it is necessary :to seek the roots of that conscious and~free consecration and of the subsequent giving of self to God as his possession in baptism, the sacrament that leads us to the~paschal mystery as the apex and center of the redemption ac,~omplished by Christ. Therefore, in order to highlight fully the reality of religious professions, we must turn to the vibrant ~,ords of St. Paul in the Letter to the Romans: "Do you,no~t know. that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that like Christ. we too might walk into the newness of life";26 "our old self was crucifiedowith him so that., we might no longer be enslaved by sin";27 so you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus?s Upon the sacramental basis of baptism in which it is rooted, religious profession is a new ~'burial in the death of Christ": new, because it is made with awareness and by choice; new, because of love and vocation; new, by reason of unceasing "conversion." This "burial in death" causes the person "buried together with Christ" to "walk like Christ in newness of life." In Christ crucified is to be found the ultimate foundati,~n both of baptismal consecration 41111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 and of the profession of the evangelical counsels which--in tile words of the Second Vatican Council--"constitutes a special consecration." It is at one and the same time both death and liberation. St. Paul writes: "Consider yourselves dead to sin." At the same time he calls this death "freedom from the slavery of sin." Above all, though, religious consecration, through its sacramental foundation in holy baptism, constitutes a new life "for God in Jesus Christ." In this way, simultaneously with the' profession of the evangelical counsels, in a much more mature and conscious manner "the old nature is put off," and likewise "the new nature is put on, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness," to use once more the words of the Letter tothe l~phesians.29 A Covenant of Spousal Love 8. Thus, then, dear Brothers and Sisters--all of you who, throughout the Church, live the covenant of the evangelical counsels-~-renew in this Holy Year of the Redemption your awareness of your special sharing in the Redeemer's death on the cross--that sharing through which ~you have risen with him, and continually rise with him, to a new life. The Lord speaks to each of you, just as he once spoke through the prophet Isaiah: Fear not, for i have redeemed you: ' ~ I have called you by name, you are mine.a0 The evangelical call: "If you would be perfect., follow meTM guides us with the light of the words of the divine Teacher. From th~ depth of the redemption there comes Christ's call, and from that depth it teaches the human soul. By virtue of the grace of the redemption, this saving call assumes in the soul Of the person called the actual form of the professioh of the evangelical counsels. In this.form is contained your answer to the call .of redeeming love, and it is also an answer of love: a love of self-giving--which is the heart of consecration, of the consecration of the person. The words of Isaiah "I have redeemed you., you are mine"--seem toseal precisely this love, which is the love of a total and exclusive consecration to God. This is how the special covenant of spousal love is made, in which we seem to hear an unceasing echo of the words concerning Israel whom the Lord "has chosen as his own possession.'~2 For in every consecrated person the Israel of the New and Eternal Covenant is chosen. The whole messianic People, the entire Church, is chosen in every person whom the Lord selects from the midst of this people; in every person who is consecrated,for everyone, to God as his exclusive possession. While it is true that not even the greatest saint can repeat the words of Christ: "For their sake I consecrate myself"33 in the full redemptive force of these words, nevertheless, through self-giving love, through the offering of Redemptionis Donum / 489 oneself to God as his exclusive possession, each one can, through faith, stand within the radius of these words. Are we not reminded of this by the other words of the Apostle in the Letter to the Romans that we so often repeat and meditate upon: "I appeal to you therefore, brethren, by the mercy of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship"?.34 These words are, as it were, a distant echo of the one who, when he comes into the world and becomes man, says to the Father: "You have prepared a body for me. ~. Lo, I have come to do your will, O God.'~5 In this particular context of the Jubilee Year of the Redemption, let us, then, go back again to the mystery of the body and soul of Christ as the complete subject of spousal and redemptive love--spousal because redemp-tive. For love he offered himself; for love he gave his body "for the sin of the world." By immersing yourselves in the paschal mystery of the Redeemer through the consecration of the religious vows, you desire, through the love of total giving, to fill your souls and your bodies with the spirit of sacrifice---even as St. Paul invites you to do in the words of the Letter to the Romans just quoted: "To offer your bodies as a sacrifice.'~6 In this way, the likeness of that love which, in the heart of Christ, is both redemptive and spousal, is imprinted on the religious profession. And such love should fill each of you, dear Brothers and Sisters, from the very source of thatparticularconsecration which--on the sacramental basis of holy baptism-- is the beginning of your new life in Christ and in the Church: it is the beginning of the new creation. Together with this love, may there grow deeper in each one of you the joy of belonging exclusively to God, of being a particular inheritance of the most Holy Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Now and then repeat with the psalmist the inspired words: Whom else have I in heaven? And when ! am with you, the earth delights me not. Though my flesh and my heart waste away, God is the'rock of my heart" and my portion foreverP7 Or 1 say to the Lord, My Lord are you. Apart from you I have no good. O Lord, my allotted portion and my cup, You it is who hold fast my lot,3s May the knowledge of belonging to God himself in Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the World and the Spouse of the Church, seal your hearts39 and all your thoughts, words, and deeds, with the sign of the biblical spouse: As you know, this intimate and profound knowledge of Christ is actuated 490 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 and grows deeper day by day through the life.of personal, community and liturgical prayer proper to each of your religious families. In this, too--and especially so--the men and women religious who are dedicated essentially to contemplation are a powerful aid and a stimulating support for their brothers and sisters devoted to the works of the apostolate. May this knowledge of belonging to Christ open your hearts, thoughts and deeds, with the key of the Mystery of the Redemption, to all the sufferings, needs and hopes of individuals and of the world--in the midst of which your evangelical consecration has been planted as a particular sign of the presence of God, for whom all live,40 embraced by the invisible dimension of this kingdom. The words "Follow me"--spoken by Christ when he "looked upon and loved" each one of you, dear Brothers and Sisters--also have this meaning: you take part, in the most complete and radical way possible, in the shaping of that new creation,4~ which must emerge from the redemption of the world, by means of the power of the Spirit of Truth operating from the abundance of the Paschal Mystery of Christ. Evangelical Counsels The Economy of Redemption 9. Through your profession the way of evangelical counsels opens up before each one of you. In the Gospel there are many exhortations that go beyond the measures of the commandment, indicating not only what is "neces-sary," but what is "better." Thus, for example, the exhortation not to judge,42 to lend "expecting nothing in return,'~3 to comply with all the requests and desires of our neighbor,44 to invite the poor to a meal?5 to pardon always,46 and many other invitations. If, in accordance with tradition, the profession of the evangelical counsels has concentrated on the three points of chastity, poverty and obedience, this usage seems to give clear enough emphasis to their importance as key ele-ments, and, as a kind of "summing up" of the entire economy of salvation. Everything in the Gospel that is a counsel enters indirectly into the pro-gram of that way to which Christ calls when he says: "Follow me." But chastity, poverty and obedience give to this way a particular Christocentric characteristic, and imprint upon it a specific sign of the Economy of Redemption. Essential to this "economy" is the transformation of the entire cosmos, through the heart of man, i'rom within: "For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. and will be set free from its bondage to decay, and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God.'~7 This transformation takes place in step with that love which Christ's call infused in the depths of the individual, in step with that love which constitutes the very substance of consecration: a man or woman's vowing of self to God in religious profession, on the foundation of the sacramental consecration of baptism. Redemptionis Donum / 49"1 We can discover the bases of the economy of redemption by reading the words of the First Letter of St. John: Do not love the world or the things of the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passes away, and the lust of it: but he who does the will of God abides forever.'~ Religious profession places in the heart of each one of you, dear Brothers and Sisters, the love of the Father, that love which is in the heart of Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the World. It is love which embraces the world and everything in it that comes from the Father, and which at the same time tends to overcome in the world everything that "does not come from the Father." It tends therefore to conquer the threefold lust. "The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life" are hidden within man as the inheritance of original sin, as a result of which the relationship with the world, created by God and given to man to be ruled by him,49 was disfigured in the human heart in various ways: In the economy of redemption the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty and obedience constitute the most radical means for trans-forming in the human heart this relationship with "the world": with the exter-nal world and with one's personal "1," which in some way is the central part "of the world" in the biblical sense, if what "does not come from the Father" begins within it. Against the background .of the phrases taken from the First Letter of St. John, it is not difficult to see the fundamental importance of the three evangel-ical counsels in the whole economy of redemption. Evangelical chastity helps us to transform in our interior life everything that has it sources in the lust of the flesh; evangelical poverty, everything that finds its source in the lust of the eyes; and evangelical obedience enables us to transform in a radical way that which in the human heart arises from the pride of life. We are deliberately speaking here of an overcoming as a transformation, for the entire economy of the redemption is set in the framework of the words spoken in the priestly prayer to the Father: "1 do not ask you to take them out of the world, but to guard them from the evil one."~0 The evangelical counsels in their essential purpose aim at "the renewal of creation": "The world," thanks to them, is to be subjected to man and given to him in such a way that man himself may be perfectly given to God. Participation in the Self-Emptying of Christ 10. The internal purpose of the evangelical counsels leads to the discovery of yet other aspects that emphasize the close connection of the counsels with the economy of redemption. We know that the economy of redemption finds its culminating point in the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ, in whom there are joined self-emptying through death and birth to a new life through the Resur-rection. The practice of the evangelical counsels contains a deep reflection of this paschal duality;5~ the inevitable destruction of what in each of us is sin and 492 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 its inheritance; and the possibility of being reborn each day to a more pro-found good hidden in the human soul. This good is manifested under the action of grace, toward which the practice of chastity, poverty and obedience renders the human soul particularly sensitive. The entire economy of redemp-tion is realized precisely through this sensitivity to the mysterious action of the Ho!y Spirit, the direct author of all holiness. Along this path the profession of the evangelical counsels opens out in each one of you, dear Brothers and Sisters, a wide space for the "new creation"~z that emerges in your human 'T' precisely from the economy of the redemption and, through this human "I," also into the interpersonal and social dimensions. At the same time it emerges in humanity as part of the world created by God, that world that the Father loved "anew" in the eternal Son, the Redeemer of the World. Of this Son St. Paul says that "though he was in the form of God. he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men."53 The characteristic of self-emptying contained in the practice of the evangelical counsels is therefore a .completely Christocentric characteristic. And for this reason also the Teacher from Nazareth explicitly indicates the cross as the condition for following in his footsteps, He who once said to each one of you "Follow me" has also said: "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me" (that is to say, walk in my footsteps).54 And he said this to all his listeners, not just to the disciples. The law of renunciation belongs therefore to the very essence of the Chris-tian vocation. But it belongs in a particular way to the essence of the vocation linked to the profession of the evangelical counsels. To those who walk the way of this vocation, even those difficult expressions that we read in the Letter to the Philippians speak in comprehensible language: For him "I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as refuse, in order that I may gain Christ and be-found in him.'~5 Renunciation therefore--the reflection of the mystery of Calvary--in order "to be" more fully in the crucified and risen Christ; renunciation in order to recognize fully in him the mystery of one's own human nature and to confirm this on the path of that wonderful process of which the same apostle writes in another place: "Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed every day.'~6 In this way the economy of the redemp-tion transfers the power of the paschal mystery to the level of humanity, docile to Christ's call to life in chastity, poverty and obedience, that is, to a. life according to the evangelical counsels. Chastity, Poverty, ,Obedience II. The paschal character of this call makes itself known from various points of view in connection with each individual .counsel. Chastity It is indeed according to the measure of the economy of the redemption Redemptionis Donum / 493 that one must also judge and practice that chastity which each of you has promised by vow, together with poverty and obedience. There is contained in this the response to Christ's words, which are at the same time an invitation: "There are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. He who is able to receive this, let him receive it. Prior to this Christ has emphasized: "Not all men can receive this saying, but only those to whom it is given."~s These last words clearly show that this invitation is a counsel. To this also the apostle Paul devoted a special reflection in the First Letter to the Corinthians.59 This counsel is addressed in a particular way to the love of the human heart. It places greater emphasis on the spousal character of this love, while poverty and still more obedience seem to emphasize primarily the aspect of redemptive love contained in religious consecration. As you know, it is a question here of chastity in the sense "of making themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven," a question, that is, of virginity or celibacy as an expression of spousal love for the Redeemer himself. In this sense the apostle teaches that they "do well" who choose matrimony, but they "do better who choose virginity.'~° "The unmarried man is anxious about the affairs of the Lord, how to please the Lord,'~ and "the unmarried woman or girl is anxious about the affairs of the Lord, how to be holy in body and spirit."62 There is contained neither in the words of Christ nor in those of Paul any lack of esteem for matrimony. The evangelical counsel of chastity is only an indication of that particular possibility which, for the human heart, whether of a man or of a woman, constitutes the spousal love of Christ himself, of Jesus the "Lord." "To make themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven" is not in fact merely a free renunciation of marriage and family life, but a charismatic choice of Christ as one's exclusive spouse. This choice not only specifically enables one to be "anxious about the affairs of the Lord;" but--when it is made "for the kingdom of heaven"---it brings this eschatologi-cal kingdom of God close to the life of all people in the conditions of temporal-ity and makes it in a certain way present in the midst of the world. In this way consecrated persons accomplish the interior purpose of the entire economy of the redemption. For this purpose expresses itself in bringing near the kingdom of God in its definitive, eschatoiogical dimension. Through the vow of chastity consecrated persons share in the economy of the redemp-tion through the free renunciation of the temporal joys of married and family life; on the other hand, precisely by their "having made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven," they bring into the midst of this passing world the announcement of the future resurrection63 and of eternal life: life in union with God himself through the beatific vision and the love which contains in itself and completely pervades, all the other loves of the human heart. Poverty 12. How very expressive, in the. matter of poverty, are the words of the 494 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 Second Letter to the Corinthians, which constitute a concise synthesis of all that we hear on this theme in the Gospel: "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yete for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.TM According to these words, poverty actually enters into the interior structure of the redemptive grace of Jesus Christ. Without poverty, it is not possible to understand the mystery of the gift of divinity to man, a gift which is accomplished precisely in Jesus Christ. For this reason also it is found at the very center of the Gospel, at the beginning of the message of the eight Beatitudes: "Blessed are the poor in spirit."~5 Evangelical poverty reveals to the eyes of the human soul the perspec-tive of the whole mystery, "hidden for ages in God.'~6 Only those who are "poor" in this way are also interiorly capable of understanding the poverty of the One who is infinitely rich. The poverty of Christ conceals in itself this infinite richness of God; it is indeed an infallible expression of it. A richness, in fact, such as the divinity itself, could not have been adequately expressed in any created good. It can be expressed only in poverty. Therefore it can be properly understood only by the poor, the poor in spirit. Christ; the God-man, is the first of these: He who, "though he was rich became poor," is not only the teacher, but also the spokesman and guarantor of that salvific poverty which corresponds to the infinite richness of God and to the inexhaustible power of his grace. And thus is it also true--as the apostle writes--that "by this poverty we have become rich." It is the teacher and spokesman of poverty who makes us rich. For this very reason he says to the young man.of the synoptic gospels: "Sell what you possess and give . and you will have treasure in heaven.'~7 In these words there is a call to enrich others through one's own poverty. But in the depths of this call there is also hidden the testimony of the infinite richness of God which, transferred to the human soul in the mystery of grace, created in man himself, precisely through poverty, a source for enriching others that is not comparable with any other resource of material goods, a source for bestowing gifts on others in the manner of God himself. This giving is accomplished in the cohtext of the mystery of Christ who "has made us rich by his poverty." We see how this process of enrichment unfolds in the pages of the Gospel, finding its culmination in the paschal event: Christ, poorest in his death on the cross, is also the one who enriches us infinitely with the fullness of new life through his resurrection. Dear Brothers and Sisters, poor in spirit through your evangelical profes-sion, receive into the whole of your lives this salvific profile of the poverty of Christ. Day by day seek its ever greater development! Seek above all "the kingdom of God and his righteousness," and all other things "shall be yours as well.'~8 May there be accomplished in you and through you the evangelical blessedness that is reserved for the poor,69 the poor in spirit!70 Redemptionis Donum/ 495 Obedience 1 3. Christ, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And beingfound in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.7~ Here, in these words of the Letter of St. Paul to the Philippians, we touch the very essence of the redemption, In this reality is inscribed, in a primary and constitutive way, the obedience of Jesus Christ. Other words of the apostle, taken this time from the Letter to the Romans, confirm this: For as by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man's obedience many will be made righteous.72 The evangelical counsel of obedience is the call which derives from this obedience of Christ "unto death." Those who accept this call, expressed by the words "Follow me," decided--as the council says--to follow Christ who "by an obedience which carried him even to death on the cross, redeemed human-ity and made it holy.''73 By living out the evangelical counsel of obedience, they reach the deepest essence of the entire Economy of the Redemption. By ful-filling this counsel, they desire to gain a special sharing in the obedience of that "One alone" by whose obedience all "will be made righteous." It can therefore be said that those who decide to live according to the counsel of obedience are placed in a unique way between the mystery of sin74 and the mystery of justification and salvific grace. They are in this "place" with all the sinful background of their own human nature, with all the inheritance "of the pride of life," with all the selfish tendencies to dominate rather than to serve; and precisely by means of the vow of obedience they decide to be transformed into the likeness of Christ, who "redeemed humanity and made it holy by his obedience." In the counsel of obedience they desire to find their own role in the redemption of Christ, and their own way of sanctification. This is the way which Christ marked out in the Gospel, speaking many times of fulfilling the will of God, of ceaselessly searching for it. "My food is to do the will of him who sent me, and to accomplish his works."75 "Because I seek not my own will but the will of him who sent me."76 "He :who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for 1 always do what is pleasing to him.''77 "For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me."78 This constant fulfilling of the will of the Father also reminds us of that messianic confession of the psalmist in the Old Testament: "Behold I come; in the written scroll it is prescribed for me. To do 3/our will, O my God, is my delight, and your law is within my heart.''79 This obedience of the Son--full of joy--reaches its zenith in the face of the passion and cross: "Father, if it is your will, take this cup from me; yet not my will but yours be done."s0 From the prayer ~in Gethsemane onward, Christ's 1196 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 readiness to do the will of the Father is filled to the very brim of suffering, becoming that obedience "unto death, even death on a cross" spoken of by St. Paul. Through the vow of obedience consecrated persons decide to imitate with humility the obedience of the Redeemer in a special way. For although sub-mission to the will of God and obedience to his law are for every state a condition of Christian life, nevertheless in the "religious state," in the "state of perfection," the vow of obedience establishes in the heart of each of you, dear Brothers and Sisters, the duty of a particular reference to Christ "obedient unto death." And since this obedience of Christ constitutes the essential nucleus of the work of the redemption, as is seen from the words of the apostle quoted above, therefore also in the fulfilling of the evangelical counsel of obedience we must discern a particular moment in that "economy of the redemption" which pervades your whole vocation in the Church. From this derives that "total availability to the Holy Spirit" who is at work above all in the Church, as my predecessor Paul VI puts it in the apostolic exhortation Evangelica Testificatio,8i a'nd who is likewise manifested in the constitutions of your institutes. From this derives that religious submission which, in a spirit of faith, consecrated persons show to their legitimate superiors Who hold the place of God.82 In the Letter to the Hebrews we find on this theme a very significant indication: "Obey your leaders and submit to them; for they are keeping watch over your souls, as men who will have to give account." And the author of the letter adds: "Let them do this joyfully, and not sadly, for that would be of no advantage to you."~3 On the other hand, superiors will bear in mind that they. must exercise in a spirit of service the power conferred on them through the ministry of the Church, and they will show willingness to listen to their brothers or sisters in order to discern more clearly what the Lord asks of each one. At the same time they retain the authority proper to them to decide and order what they consider appropriatr. Hand in hand with submission-obedience thus conceived goes the attitude of service which informs your whole life after the example of the Son of Man who "came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."s4 And his mother, at the decisive moment of the annunciation-incarna-tion, entering from the very beginning into the whole salvific economy of the redemption, said: "Behold, 1 am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word."aS Remember also, dear Brothers and Sisters, that the obedience to which you committed yourselves by consecrating yourselves without reserve to God through the profession of the evangelical counsels is a particular expression of interior freedom, just as the definitive expression of Christ's freedom was his obedience "unto death": "1 lay down my life, that I may take it again. No one Redemptionis Donum / takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.'~6 Love for the Church Witness 14. In the Jubilee Year of the Redemption the entire Church wishes to renew her love for Christ, the redeemer of man and of the world, her Lord and also her divine Spouse. And so in this holy year the Church looks with special attentibn to you, dear Brothers and Sisters, who, as consecrated persons, occupy a special place, both in the universal community of the People of God, and in every local community. While the Church wishes also your love for Christ to be renewed through the grace of the extraordinary jubilee, at the same time, she is fully aware that this love constitutes a special possession of the whole People of God. The Church is aware that, in the love that Christ receives from consecrated persons, the love :of the entire Body is directed in a special and exceptional way toward the Spouse who, i~t the same time, is the Head of this Body. The Church expresses to you, dear Brothers and Sisters, her gratitude for your consecration, and for your profession of the evangelical counsels which are a special witness of love. She also expresses anew her great confidence in you who have chosen a state of life that is a special gift of God to the Church. She counts upon your complete and generous collaboration in order that, as faithful stewards of this precious gift, you may "think with the Church" and always act in union with her, in conformity with the teaching and directives of the magisterium of Peter and of the pastors in communion with him, fostering at the personal and community level a renewed ecclesial awareness. And at the same time, the Church prays for you, that your witness of love may never fail.87 She also asks you to accept in this spirit the present message of the Jubilee Year of the Redemption. Precisely in this way the Apostle Paul prayed in his Letter to the Philippians, that "your love may abound more and more., with all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruits of righteousness. "~ Through the work of Christ's redemption "God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us.'~9 1 constantly ask the Holy Spirit to grant to each one of you, according to your own gift,9° to bear special witness to this love. May "the law of the Spirit that gives life in Christ Jesus" be victorious within you in a way worthy of your vocation, that law that has "set us free from the law of. death.TM Live, then, this new life in the measure of the different gifts of God, which corresponds to the vocation of your individual religious families. The profession of the evangelical counsels shows each of you how, with the help of the Spirit, you can put to death92 everything that is contrary to life and serves sin and death; everything that is opposed to true love of God and others. The world needs the authentic "contradiction" provided by religious conse- 4911 / Reviow for Religious, July-August, 1984 cration, as an unceasing stimulus of saivific renewal. "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.'~3 After the special period of experimentation and renewal provided for by the motu proprio Ecclesiae Sanctae, your institutes have recently received, or are preparing to receive, the Church's approval of your renewed constitutions. May this gift of the Church encourage you to know them, to love them, and, above all, to live them in generosity and fidelity, remembering that obedience is an unambiguous manifestation of love. It is precisely this witness of love that the world today and all humanity need. They need this witness to the redemption as this is imprinted upon the profession of the evangelical counsels. These counsels---each in its own way and all of them together in their intimate connection--"bear witness" to the redemption which, by the power of Christ's cross and resurrection, leads the world and humanity, in the Holy Spirit, toward that definitive fulfillment which man, and through man, the whole of creation finds in God and only in God. Your witness is therefore of inestimable value, You must constantly strive to make it fully transparent and fully fruitful in the world. A further aid to this will be the faithful observance of the Church's norms regarding also the outward manifestation of your consecration and of your commitment to poverty.94 Apostolate 15. From this witness of spousal love for Christ, through which the entire salvific truth of the Gospel becomes particularly visible, there also comes, dear Brothers and Sisters, as something proper to your vocation, a sharing in the Church's apostolate, in her universal mission--which is accomplished con-temporaneously in every nation in many different ways and through many different charisms. Your specific mission is in harmony with the mission of the apostles whom the Lord sent "to the whole world" to "teach all nations,'s5 and it is also linked to the mission of the hierarchial order. In the apostolate which consecrated persons exercise, their spousal love for Christ becomes, in an as it were organic way, love for the Church as the Body of Christ, for the Church as the People of God, fbr the Church which is at one and the same time Spouse and Mother. It is difficult to describe, or even to list, the many different ways in which consecrated persons fulfill through the apostolate their love for the Church. This apostolate is always born from that particular gift of your founders which, received from God and approved by the Church, has become a charism for the different needs of the Church and of the world at particular moments of history, and, in its turn, this apostolate is extended and strengthened in the life of religious communities as one of the enduring elements of the Church's own life and apostolate. In each of these elements, in each field--both of Redemptionis Donum / 499 contemplation so fruitful for the apostolate and of direct apostolic action--the Church's constant blessing accompanies you, as does at the same time her pastoral and maternal solicitude with regard to the spiritual identity of your life and the correctness of your activity in the midst of the great universal community of vocations and charisms of the whole People of God. Through each of the institutes separately, and through their organic integration into the whole of, the Church's mission, special emphasis is given to the Economy of Redemption, the profound sign of which each one of you, dear Brothers and Sisters, bears within himself or herself through the consecration and profession of the evangelical counsels. And thus, even though the many different apostolic works that you perform are extremely important, nevertheless the truly fundamental work of the aPostolate remains always what (and at the same time who) you are in the Church. Of each one of you can be repeated, with special appropriateness, these words of St. Paul: '~For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God."96 And at the same time this "being hidden with Christ in God" makes it possible to apply to you the words of the master himself: "Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven."97 For the sake of this light with which you must "shine before men," of great imPortance among you is the witness of your mutual love linked to the fraternal spirit of each community, for the Lord has said: "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."gg The fundamentally communitarian nature of your religious life--nourished by the teaching of the Gospel, by the sacred liturgy, and above all by the Eucharist--is a special way of accomplishing this interpersonal and social dimension. By caring for one another, by bearing one another's burdens, you show, by your unity, that Christ is living in your midst.99 Important for your apostolate in the Church is every kind of sensitivity to the needs and sufferings of the individual, which are seen so clearly and so movingly in today's world. For the Apostle Paul teaches: "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ,;~°° and he adds that "love is the fulfilling of the Law."1°1 Your mission must be seen! Deep, very deep must be the bond which links it to the Church!~°2 Through everything that you do, and especially through everything that you are, may the truth be proclaimed and reconfirmed that "Christ loved the Church and gave himself up for her"~o3--the truth that is at the basis of the whole Economy of Redemption. From Christ, the Redeemer of the World, may the inexhaustible source of your love of the Church pour forth! Conclusion The Eyes Enlightening the Heart 16. This exhortation, which 1 address to you on the Solemnity of the Annunciation in the Jubilee Year of the Redemption, is meant to be an 5{11) / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 expression of that love which the Church has for men and womeri religious: You, dear Brothers and Sisters, are truly a special treasure of the Church. And this treasure becomes more understandable through °meditation on the reality of the redemption--for which the present Holy Year offers a continuous opportunity and a welcome encouragement. Recognize therefore, in this light, your identity and your dignity. May the Holy Spirit--through Christ's cross and resurrection--"having the eyes of your hearts enlightened," enable you "to know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints."~0~ These "eyes enlightening the heart" the Church unceasingly asks ]'or each ¯ one of you who have already taken the road of the profession of the evfingelical counsels. The Church, together with you, asks for the same "enlightened eyes" for many other Christians---especially for young men and women--that they, too, may discover this way, and not be afraid to enter upon it, that---even in the midst of the adverse circumstances of life today--they may hear Christ's "Follow Me."1°5 You, too, must strive for this through your prayer, and aiso through the witness of that love whereby "God abides in us, and his love is perfected in us."~o6 May this witness become present everywhere, and universally clear. May the people of our times, in their spiritual weariness, find in this witness both support and hope. Therefore serve your brethren with the joy that wells up from a heart in which Christ has his dwelling. "And may the world of our time., be enabled to receive the good news, not from evangelizers who are dejected and discouraged., but from ministers of the Gospel whose lives glow with fervor, who have first received the joy of Christ."~07 The Church, in her love for you, does not cease "kneeling before the Father. and praying"t0g that he may effect in you "the strengthening of the inner nature,''~09 and, as in you, so also in many others of your baptized brothers and sisters---especially young people--so that they, too, may find the same way to holiness which, in the course of history, so many generations have traveled together with Christ the Redeemer of the World and Spouse of Souls, often~ leaving behind them the bright radiance of God's light against the dark and gray background of human existence. To all of you who travel this road in the present phase of the history of the Church and the world there is addressed this fervent hope of the Jubilee Year of the Redemption, that "you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have the power to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God."~0 Message of the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord On the Feast of the Annunciation in thi~ Holy Year of the Redemption, I place the present exhortation in the heart of the Immaculate Virgin. Among all Redemptionis Donum / 501 persons consecrated unreservedly to G6d, she is the first. She--the Virgin of Nazareth--is also the one most fully consecrated to God, consecrated in the most perfect way. Her spousal~love reached its height in the divine motherhood through the power of the Holy Spirit. She, who as mother carries Christ in her arms, at the same time fulfills in the most perfect way his call: "Follow me." And she follows him--she, the mother--as her teacher of chastity, poverty and obedience. How poor she was on Bethlehem night, and how poor on Calvary! How obedient she was at the moment .of the Annunciation, and then--at the foot of the Cross--obedient "unto death!" How dedicated she was in all her earthly life to the cause of the kingdom" of heaven through most chaste love. If the entire Church finds in Mary her first model, all the more reason do you find her so--you as consecrated individuals and communities within the Church! On the day that calls to mind the inauguration of the Jubilee of the Redemption, which took place last year, I address myself to you with this present message to invite you to renew your religious consecration according to the model of the consecration of the very Mother of God. Beloved Brothers and Sisters! "God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."lll Persevering in fidelity to him who is faithful, strive to find a very special support in Mary! For she was called by God to the most perfect communion with his Son. May she, the faithful Virgin, also be the Mother of your evangelical way. May she help yoti to experience and to show to the world how infinitely faithful is God himself! With these hopes 1 bless you with all my heart. From the Vatican, March 25, in the Jubilee Year of the Redemption, 1984, the sixth of my pontificate. NOTES ~See Mt 7:14. 2Ps 130(129):7. .JSee 2 Co 11:2. sSee Mt' 19:21; Mk 10:21; Lk' 18:22. 6Mk 10:21. 8Jn 3:16. 91 P 1:18-19. ml Co 6:20. ~2Mt 5:48. ~JSee Lv 19:2; 11:44. ~4Ep 5:1-2. ~6Mk 8:35; see Mt 10:39; Lk 9:24. ~TMt 19:21. ~gMt 6:21. ~°See Mt 19:21; Mk 10:21; Lk 18:22. 22Mt 19:16. ~JJn 15:16. 241 Jn 4:10. 4See Mt 18:20. 7Mt 19:21. ~1 Co 6:19-20. ~Sls 44:22. ~sSee Mt 6:19-20. 2~See Jn 14:26. ~See Second Vatican Council, decree Perfectae Caritatis, 5; see also document of the Congrega-tion for Religious and Secular Institutes "Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Life as Applied to Institutes Dedicated to Works of the Apostolate" (May 3 I, 1983), nn. 5ff. ~6Rm 6:3-4. ~TRm 6:6. 2SRm 6:1 I. ~gSee Ep 4:22-24. 51)2 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 J°ls 43:1. 34Rm 12:1. asPs 16( 15):2,5. 42See Mt 7:1. ~6See Mt 6:14-15. ~°Jn 17:15. 5JPh 2:6-7: 57Mr 19:12.° 6~I Co 7:32. ~2 Co 8:9. ~Mt 19:21. 32Ps 135 (134):4. J3Jn 17:19. a~Heb 10:5,7. ~6Rm 12:1. aTPs 73(72):25-26. 39See Sg 8:6. ~See Lk 20:38. :4~2 Co 5:17. *JLk 6:35. '~See Mt 5:40-42. *~See Lk 14:13-14. *TRm 8:19-21. '~1 Jn 2:15-17. ~gSee Gn 1:28. ~See Perfectae Caritatis, 5. 522 Co 5:17. ~Mk 8:34: Mt 16:24. ssPh 3:8-9. 562 Co 4:16. 5SMt 19:11. 59See I Co 7:28-40: ~°See I Co 7:38. 621 Co 7:34. 6~See Lk 20:34-36; Mt 22:30: Mk 12:25. 65Mt 5:3. 66Ep 3:9. 67Mt 19:21; see Mk 10:21; Lk 18:22. 7°Mr 5:3. 7~Ph 2:6-8. 74Mysterium lniquitatis; see 2 Th 2:7. 77Jn 8:29. tSJn 6:38. ~OLk 22:42; see Mk 14:36; Mt 26:42. 82See Perfectae Caritatis, 14. 85Lk 1:38. 86Jn 10:17-18. 89Rm 5:5. 9°See I Co 7:7. 6SMk 6:33; eLk 6:20. 72Rm ~: 19. 7-~See Perfectae Caritatis, I. 75Jn 4:34. 76Jn 5:30. 79ps 40(39):8-9; see Heb 10:17. s~See Evangelica Testificatio, 6. S~Heb 13:17. ~4Mk 10:45. sTSee Lk 22:32. ssPh 1:9-1 I. 91Rm 8:2. 92See Rm 8:13. 9-~Rm 12:2. 9~See Code of Canon Law, canon 669. 9~See Mt 28:19. 9~Col 3:3. 97Mt 5:16. ~Jn 13:35. 99See Perfectae Caritatis, 15. t°°Ga 6:2. ~o~ Rm 13:10. ~°2The Code of Canon Law explicitly mentions this with regard to apostolic activity: see canon 675, sec. 3. ~O3Ep 5:25. , ~Ep 1:18. IO~Lk 5:27. ~°~1 Jn 4!12. ~°TPope Paul VI, apostolic exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi, 80. ~°sSee Ep 3:14. ~°gSee Ep 3:16. n0Ep 3:17;19. ml Co 1:9. Encourage Vocations May I also ask you for something?You are well aware of the needs of the Church all over the world in relation to vocations to the priesthood and to the religious life. My request is that you do not fail to challenge the young to follow Christ in this way. Help them to discover the divine call. Support them by your prayer, your advice, and the example of your lives.--John Paul Ii, to the General Chapter of the Congregation of Christian Brothers. L'Osscrvatore Romano, 24 April, 1984, p. 9. Commitment: Dying and Rising to Self Anthony Wieczorek, O. Praem. This article is the fruit of the prayerful reflections of Bro~ Wieczorek as he approached the time of his solemn profession during the days of Holy Week. His last article. "Poverty. Time. Solitude: A Conte.xt for a Celibate Life-Style.~appeared in the issue of September/October. 1982. Bro. Wieczorek resides in St. Joseph Priory: 103 Grant Street: De Pere. WI 54115. Commitment is a life and death decision. This is especially true for such commitments as marriage, profession, arid even the taking 'on ~of certain jobs requiring a good degree of responsibility. Commitment is a decision to live a certain life, to embrace life and enter into it fully. At the same time, it is a death. It means letting go of other options and alternatives, of other equally good or better ways of living. For both these reasons, because commitment is an embracing of life and death, commitments are' often difficult to make, causes of not a little anxiety and fear. The fear is not simply because of the dying required; it is perhaps least of all due to that. Rather, the main cause for fear in commitment is precisely the living, the life that is chosen with all its unknown consequences. Life is just as much out of human control as death. Life is just as much a surrender as death. When a person truly abandons oneself to living, truly living--wak.efully, consciously, with senses open and alert to every and anything--the final result is just as mysterious and uncertain as death. At least that is what I am finding out as the day of my solemn profession nears. What is involved in making such a commitment? Where will such a life lead? What price will such a life demand? For make no mistake, living exacts a terrible price--terrible and beautiful. Truly, commitment is a dying and rising of self. The self I am and know given over to transformation by living a life the consequences and end of which 1 cannot envision. The frightening part of commitment, for many of us, as these reflections try to articulate, is not just the dying to other lives, it is the rising to new and different life and, perhaps, to 503 504/ Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 an equally new and different self. The Seed of An Uncertain Future I wonder, Lord, if you wonder where all the singleheartedness has gone. It is still there, thought now I am no longer so wholly consumed by it. All its life, the residue of its past as well as the fire of its dreams, is squeezed tightly into a single seed. The seed is all curled up about itself. It is afraid to die for when it does it will erupt into nbt only new life, that is not so bad, but into different life. The tree from which that scared seed grew is only one parent. The other is mystery, wild and elusive. It will be no new tree that stretches itself upward and downward but a different tree. And so I cling to the last shreds of my former life, feeling it nonetheless slipping, being pulled endlessly from my grasp. And when the last element is gone and I fall helplessly into the soil, half buried by the force of the fall, then I shall die/rise--for it is all the same--to not only live anew but differently. I die to arise as a self I do not know; the me I am assumed, eaten up as food, by the person 1 shall become. .The seed existing in me is devouringme to nourish itself. It is eating its way out of me, bite by bite. Soon I will be gone. Yet not gone, for a new and different self will begin to grow from where 1 stood, with its own life, its own dreams and future. As it is now part of me, so then ! shall be part of it, consumed as fuel until it is strong enough to move away and seek its own source of life, to wrap its lips around the mystery which gave it birth and suck into its being a vitality and energy I cannot imagine, let alone comprehend. And it will grow as the mystery it drinks saturates every cell of it. By that time l will have played my part. The husk that will be what remains of me will slowly crumble with a dry, crinkling sound. Discarded, will I be remembered by what has become of me? Will anything of me survive in that which survives me? When 1 too hang a lifeless husk from a tree, consumed wholly by what exists within me? Of Acorns and O~ks It's too bad acorns can't fly. Maybe it's just as well. I wonder, if they could, how many over the years would have changed their minds and returned in a flurry of little wings to the tree from which they fell? A person just can't be sure. In the fall, if you sit quietly amid the sounds of wind and rustling leaves you can occasionally hear the sudden and quite distinct plop of an acorn hitting the ground. And if you lean over it you can even hear the final little sigh the acorn makes just before, separated from the life of the tree, it dies. For me, the acorn is a symbol of faith. The whole and utter point of an acorn's life is to die. It dies so that the oak tree within it can sprout and grow and give birth to more acorns and so more oak trees. But what about the acorn? That surely isn't much of a life. I wonder if they're informed of the odds of success before they're sent on their suicide dive? For all the acorns that fall, how slim a percentage are able to accomplish their full mission? How many of Commitment: Dying and Rising to Self / 505 the well meaning little things end up in the bellies of squirrels? or get picked up by people like me who put them in a pocket, or sit them on a desk as a remembrance? All that wasted potential. That's why l say, it's too bad acorns can't fly. But acorns don't seem to mind the odds. Millions fall to pointless deaths each year. Each one, I suppose, acts in faith. And so do they die. Maybe I'm too romantic about this. Maybe acorns kick and scream over their fate. Maybe it's not that acorns voluntarily let go at all. Perhaps they hang on for dear life, literally, while the wind and tree try to shake them loose. And don't blame the tree; it is, after all, the wind that does the shaking. The wind jostles and bounces the branches and leaves until the acorns can no longer hang on, until .th,.ey fall, with a plop, onto the ground below. In my room is an 1con, Rublev's The Holy Trinity. On it are three figures, the three visitors greeted by Abraham. Each represents a different person of the Holy Trinity. They are, from left to right, Son, Father, and Spirit. They are seated at a table and on its center is a solitary cup. The symbolism speaks of the cup as the cup of commitment or decision or vow. The cup is the symbol of the incarnation. The Son in drinking it would vow to undergo the incarnation, the ministry and death. The Father looks sadly at the Son but makes no move to urge his drinking. The decision must be made freely and the Father respects that. The Spirit, though, is much less inhibited, much more impetuous. The Spirit motions toward the. cup, as if to push it closer to the Son, encouraging him to drink. In Greek and Hebrew, the word for spirit and wind is the same. I think that the word for Jesus and acorn should be the same also. The Spirit blew the cup across the table and thbn with a sudden gust blew the Son right out of heaven so that he fell, with a plop, upon the earth to live so briefly and then with a sigh die so that from his seed new life might sprout and grow. I wonder if the Son would rather have hung on to the Father? I Wonder if without the Spirit's insistence the Son would have continued to cling to heaven? Who can blame either of them? What were the Son's odds for.success? And the Spirit? The Spirit is the seed contained within the acorn--Son. Do not feel sorry for the acorn, nor for the Son. Rather, feel sorry for yourself; All of us are acorns. Each one is complete with a spirit-seed~ We cling to a cross and cling desperately, lest we too fall and we too germinate into a new and different creation. And yet, it is our purpose and fate to let go and drop down into the life we find ourselves forced by various kinds of necessity to live. I like to fancy myself a tree. Sad to say I am only the acorn. I am meant to fall, meant to die so that the. life within me might sprout and grow. For now, though, l~cling with all my strength to the tree, high above life, not at all anxious to.surrender my grasp and fall into it. I look down on the acorns already fallen with arms that ache and fingers that are numb. The wind will not let up. It is but a matter of time. Eventually I will fall and that will be that. There will be nowhere to go but into life, a life wholly foreign and different from my life as an acorn. Up to now I have not minded being an 506 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 acorn. But now I see a very serious shortcoming: acorns can't fly. The Waves and Tides of Life Yesterday I stood at the water's edge and watched the waves ebb and flow. The water Would rush ashore in a burst of extroversion and then, just as shyly, recede, as though it had scared and embarrassed itself with its own excitement. Today I think, how much life is like those waves. There is an ebb flow to my emotions. Today, though, 1 ebb, recede back into myself to be alone with my loneliness. And today, as I sit and recall the waves, they seem like hands groping, flaying out to grab hold of an3ithing or anyone~ They are like the hands of a ghost that can. neither hold nor ever be held. The waves that beat the sand and stones, are they ii'ying in fact to climb the shore? to step out and stand and walk out among the people who have from time to time plunged into their world only to emerge after a moment and walk away? Those people who enjoyed the waves for a moment, befriending them only to leave for the business of their own lives, leaving, too, the waves to lap longingly after life they can never know or share? I with them ebb further into my heart, receding back into the memories of those who have plunged for a moment into my llfe only to leave and leave me lapping after them. Like a lake .I sit alone, from time to time rising up with a rush only to slip back into myself, startled and embarrassed by my own need. Something within me is like a wave that slaps ashore but never stays, Something within me surges up only to be pulled back within by some internal gravity. I'm not sure if that something is just shy, testing the air and environ-ment then fleeing back inside, or if it is trapped, tryin~ to escape the,grasp of something else holding it bound. I don't even know what the something within me is, the wave-like thing that surges within me. I wonder if the waves feel the futility of their endless spending of energy? What do the waves accOmplish? At what do they succeed? Too pragmatic a question? I guess so. But the question comes because I, like them, ebb and flow over and over, so much motion without any progress onward or toward. Things within me, feelings, truths, continually well up and slide onto the shore of consciousness only to teasingly return to the depths, staying only long enough to be quickly felt, to be glanced, to pose a question but never long enough to give: an answer or even listen to my response. Maybe then 1 have it all wrong. Maybe the point of the waves is not for them to venture ashore. Maybe the waves are not groping but beckoning hands, calling me to enter it, urging and compelling me into its depths. The ebb and flow of feelings that roll up into consciousness, are they bait meant to lure me into my own depths? Endlessly they call, endlessly they reach .out to stroke and caress me into compliance, easing my fear with warm, soft strokes. Those waves that nowhere go gather me and draw me not nowhere but~down, deep down, then deeper still until memory of shore is gone and the memory of me upon the shore is equally gone, washed away by the waves. Commitment: Dying and Rising to Self ] 507 The Bondage of Busyness I'm sorry, Lord, so much these past few weeks l've had to do, to be busy about. How easy it is to put off being sensitive and aware by doing. It leaves no time to be, only time enough to do. Lately I've been going through life at light's speed. Stars blur into indistinguishable streaks of white light. And people too. And you, God; and you, too. You bead up on the surface of my life like water and roll away while 1 race on. It is for self-defense. Awareness requires sensitiv-ity and for that ability to feel. To feel. Can't I just ponder you slowly in my mind? Must I dare to feel you? To be pierced by experiences, allowing them to enter in, leave an impression, even draw blood7 There ,is something in me struggling to be free. Always the same words. And why not? It is the same reality. Bondage. When, Lord, when will I learn? When will 1 take the lessons to heart and emerge whole and authentic? It is being you require not sacrifice~ not doing. They are quite wrong, those who say "just being" is a passivity. It is work, painful work without respite: 1 know why people are wont to go mad. It is all so painfully obvious. Why do I go on living in such foreign realms where things done and not being alive is the currency? The True, the Real is here, so obvious, waiting. 1 wait too. I wait for death to free me from all my falsity and foolishness, from the hustle and bustle. And l blame you for the fire and brimstone I call upon myself. I hold my breath while ! pray for death, hoping ¯ all the while it will pass me by.,I am too afraid of living; of feeling life, to die. Doing is my excuse for not being, for not taking the time or oppo~unity to feel. After death, 1 imagine, there will be all eternity to be. But even now I can feel the fabric of the womb pressing against my face and hands. My fingers grope to tear it away. 1 strain to open my eyes against it and see beyond it, crying an angry moan through it and dissolve it with my tears. Being means living and I will not allow myself to be born. I want to die but fear birth, fear the living. If 1 do not die I cannot be born, cannot be. 1 am afraid of eternity, afraid that once I pass through this existence to life I will have nothing to keep me from being, from living truly. It is not physical death I fear. That is only the symbol. Physical death reminds me that someday I must make the 9assage: Physical death is a taunt that reminds me that this existence is illusion and all the busy things I do to keep me from being and feeling are illusory too. That's why I flee from death, for 1 am afraid to live, to be, to feel. The struggle is to be born. The bondage to be enwombed. Death is the door I refuse to open for life awaits me on the other side. When will I let go and let death take me? When, 1 know now, I can let go of my fear of feeling. Death is release but 1 do not want to be free. No, that is not true. I crave it, crave life even as I fear it. I die to the wrong thing. I die to life so that I may live in death instead of dying to death, the death in which I now, and yet, live. If I die to death 1 shall rise again to live life, to feel life. And so, to insulate myself, I lie buried beneath piles of mud while my spirit struggles to soar. I choose death 5011 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 for it is painless, effortless, feelingless. The mud is all the deedsI do, must do, ought to do, have to do, can do, should do. All these excuses, a facade of life to imagine the things 1 do, the death I live in, means I am really alive. I refuse the resurrection and choose the facade. The facade of life that I live, for I have not died. Death waits. I can be embraced any time, any time I choose to live. It is so simple:,to be free 1 must simply die to death and be willing to live. Two things block my way, fear and self-consciousness. Maybe there are three things, death is the third. They are, I'm sure, all interrelated., Fear of death of the selL.l have, after all, gone through quite a turnsince my graduate school day~ when self-fulfillment was the key. Maybe it still is a key, though not to any doors I find before me. The key now is death~ death to self. Maybe I'm morel a Buddhist than 1 thought. Fear stares me in the face every :step of the way. The face of fear fills my vision. It is only an illusion though. Fear has no more a face than does a mirror. Fear's face is my own reflection. So here it is Good Friday, a day of self-denial, a day of the celebration of the conquest of fear. Your faith, Lord, conquered your fear. And for me, I lack the faith for it will bid me to face fear and enter into death. And when 1 die I shall rise__to live, to feel. Feel what? The truth: uncertainty, sorrow, loneliness made more real by love, impotence, insignificance. Even your death, Lord, has changed so little. What then of mine? ~;ou see my self-consciousness is all that keeps me from consciousness. Make no mistake, I know the grace is there. I know that if I stand silently with outstretched hands you will fill them. For that reason my hands are tightly closed into fists, fists that grasp and cling to every shred of self-consciousness I can find. ~Get behind me, Satan, your ways are not God's but man's." There is so much power in those words. The object of that little outburst of yours was not Peter's remarks but the voice within you that Peter only echoed. Why after all die, to whom will it matter in the end, much less now? I have the same voice in me, it is my voice trying to shout down the voice Of the spirit-seed begging for birth. And so I cry out.with you, "get behind me, self-consciousness." An Allegory on Arising Somewhere an alarm is ringing but I can't seem to wake enough to turn it off. It pulls and tugs at me but I am too groggy to do much more than mutter with swollen tongue still drunk with sleep. I must wake, I tell myself, but my limbs refuse to acknowledge any signals from my duty-bound brain. Of the past Triduum, Good Friday was my best day, of the three the day of greatest wakefulness. It left me eager for the Vigil service--but there it ended, l lie in my tomb thrilling over resurrection but cannot muster the consciousness to rise. I close my eyes to resurrection so that I may return to the opium of my ¯ Commitment: Dying and Rising to Self / 509 dreams. I,know I am dreaming for I know that 1 am unawake. But my sleep-logged body lacks the bouyancy to rise. I sleep on while the alarm rings on. Good Friday and I became such good friends because we spoke the same language: death--only unlike Good Friday, I refused to move on to'Easter Sunday, Each day by my own decree is a Good Friday. For, having to choose between the tomb and wakefulness, I have chosen the tomb. Holy Thursday was too busy for me to find in it any portal to mystery, let alone your presence. But Good Friday loomed like a sudden door in the middle of the service and I entered in. It felt right, necessary. I need to die, to hand myself over to death. But I refuse to enter fully into Good Friday, for from where I stood j,ust inside the threshold I could see that it extended out into Holy Saturday--when the alarm begins to ring--and opened up into Easter Sunday. So there it is, a matrix of transformation, a labyrinth one wanders through to emerge as some new self the old one lost somewhere within. I don't even think I mind the death anymore. It is somehow inevitable and in a sense it has already begun. But in the foreground I can hear the alarm waking me to consciousness even before fully asleep. It is that that scares me. I try to ignore it: can't you tell I'm dead? What do you mean it's time to get up? Do the dead rise and shine? I found in Good Friday an escape from consciousness and feeling but found also the alarm that tries so persistently to raise these unwilling limbs to new life. It does not end on Good Friday. On the third day, it says, he rose again. It took Jesus three days to lose his tug-of-war with God. Obvously you simply weren't trying, l'm proof that the contest can go on much longer. We are told to give our lives over to God as though we were lumps of clay, as though it were an act done once and for all. That is simply not how it is. We are balls of yarn that God slowly pulis, unraveling us and knitting us into something new. The same yarn but a new being--and we don't even get to choose the pattern. And so I hang on as mightily as I can, trying to unravel what God has knitted and rewrap myself into a safely static ball of potential: After all; look at what God did with the "yarn" that was--and is--Jesus. His own friends couldn't recognize him when God got through. So God and I are engaged in a tug-of-war. It took you three days, Lord? Three days to let totally go and be remade? Would that I were as weak. Unfortunately, God does not seem to be as strong as we claim. He is losing, his new creation is losing its shape, slowly being undone. The alarm bids me to stir and awaken, to loosen my hold on myself and let what I am be used up, transformed and brought back as one more patch on a huge and colorful woven mosiac. But now I am talking about Easter. Now I am talking about wakefulness, consciousness, the empty tomb with its wrappings neatly folded and put aside, like sheets and blankets on a bed remade and forgotten during the daylight hours. But I am still wrapped warm within my bed. The tomb is not yet vacant. I cling to my self-consciousness, the self 1 think 1 know and do not want to lose. But despite the sleep, I cannot hold on to myself much longer, the sleep deepens and my grip upon myself loosens. 510 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 God. tugs once more and smiles, "Nothing but a little snag," and goes on knitting making who knows, what to one day soon be sewn into a patchwork of eternity and serve some purpose in a plan not my own. Each day for me is Good Friday and soon Holy Saturday when I will be remade an~ then reappear a stranger, washed ashore on the morning of some Easter Sunday. Reciprocal On top of hell a bluebird sits On an apple branch. A mocking bird's swelling song, Tiptop in a tall cedar, chants A confiteor to such irony. Cows graze in emerald pastures. The sun~ rising red, puts the moon to rest: And morning prayers are said. Below these placid pastures, Below fring.ed acres, --primed and waiting-- Are the missiles, restrained, yet ready To fly whistling seaward, to other Pastures, where other dwellers sit on Top of hell, listening to another Bluebird singing, on an apple branch, A mocking bird trilling, tiptop In a tall cedar. Martha Wickham 560 N. Walnut, Apt~ °1 o Taylorville, IL 62568 Ecclesial Relationships for Religious: Desires and Limits Alexa Suelzer, S.P. This article is the text of the second annual lecture and colloquium sponsored by Review for Religious in conjunction with the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University which took place at the university April 12-13. In the spring of 1983, Sister Alexa was appointed to the special committee of religious formed by Archbishop John Quinn to collaborate with the ponifical commission established to facilitate the pastoral ministry of bishops to religious in this country. Sister Alexa, whose background is in Scripture, has had extensive administrative experience within her own community. She may be addressed as St. Mary-of-the-Woods College; St. Mary-of-the-Woods, IN 47876. Almost a year has passed since John Paul 11 wrote to the bishops of the United States concerning the religious--both men and women--in their dio-ceses and.sent them a document titled Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Nfe As Applied to Institutes Dedicated to Works of ApostolateJ a compendium drawn from pertinent decrees of Vatican H, papal writings, and documents of the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. Its authority derives from its sources and from the personal approval of John Paul? Perhaps there was a time when such imposing credentials would preclude criticism--but no more! Reaction from religious has covered the gamut from strong affirmation thro.ugh indifference to angry rejection. One religious' assertion that the teaching affirms her.waY of life is counterbalanced by another's depression at seeing her path questioned. Between these extremes lie varying degrees of agreement and disagreement. It seems safe to say that the enumeration of the indispensable elements (prayer, evangelical witness, and so forth) meets with general acceptance, but description of each of them finds the variety of reactions described. Sometimes the criticism is on peripheral issues: Why single out American religious? ~Why 511 512 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 were the LCWR and CMSM passed by? What is the hidden agenda? At times the criticism stems from misreading the text, e.g., presuming that the "ending of the special period of experimentation," condemns religious life henceforth to the s, tatus quo. At times the language and concepts are faulted as archaic and stereotypical, better suited to an earlier time. More serious are the theological challenges: the failure to realize adequately the evolution of religious life through the centuries, the use of consecration as a master category, the neglect of the prophetic element, and an unsatisfactory eccle-iology. From listening and speaking to religious, both individually, and in groups, I am led to believe that the last name---ecclesiology--is the source of the greatest difficulty. How one receives the document depends in great part upon the view of the Church--the ecclesiology--that is operative, consciously or uncon-sciously, in the reader:. Ecclesiology is assuredly an issue, for relatedness of religious life to the Church is one of the clearest affirmations in Essential Elements. In his letter accompanying the document John Paul refers to this fact in such phrases as "their ecclesial vocation,TM and "specific relation to tile' Church."~ Essential Elements repeats and elaborates these ideas: "Religious life belongs to the life and holiness of the Church. The Church authenticates the gift and mediates the consecration.6 And throughout there is a steady recurrence of phi'ases like "canonically erected by competent ecclesiastical authority";7 "according to constitutions wh'ich the Church, by her authority, accepts and approves";8 or "works of charity entrusted to the institute by the Church and performed in her name.''9 Relationship to the Church is in fact the seventh of the ten essentials named. Some parts of the section bear quoting: Religious life has its own place in relation to the divine and hierarchical structure of the Church. The founders and foundresses of religious institutes ask the hierarchial Church.publicly to authenticate the gift of God on which the existence of the institute depends. In their origins, religious institutes depend in a unique way on the hierarchy. As a particularly rich and important example of these manifold gifts, each religious institute depends for the authentic discernment of its founding charism on the God-given ministry of the hierarchy. This relationship obtains not only for the first recognition of the institute but also for its ongoing development. In short, the Church continues to mediate the conseCratory action of God in a specific way, recognizing and fostering this particular form of consecrated life.t0 Similarly in the section on evangelical witness it is noted that the saving work of Christ is shared by means of the concrete services mandated by the Church 'in the approval of the constitutions,tt The fact of this approval qualifies'the kind of service to be undertaken, since it must be faithful to the Gospel, the Church and the institute.12 ¯ .These statements are explicit to the poi'nt of overkill. They can be seen as a Ecclesial Relationships for Religious / $15 counterbalance (if not a reaction) to the exuberance of post-conciliar years in which the institutional dimension of the Church had been played down, if not denigrated. To understand how this state of affairs came about, it will be helpful to look at events in the field of ecclesiology both during and after the Council: In the first session of Vatican II the proposed schema on the Church offered by the Theological Commission was modeled, on the standard theological treatment of th~ manuals, a treatment laying heavy stress on the juridical and organizational aspects of the Church. Quite early in the debate the Council Fathers realized that the desired definition and description could not be simply in external, hierarchical terms, but the Church must be seen as mystery, that is, as described by Paul V1, a divine reality inserted into history, not fully to be captured by human thought and language. It is an indication of the development of the Church's understanding bf her nature and mission that the bishops turned to a fresh approach which would, be more historical, dynamic, and biblical. After a new draft and a series of revisions during the second and.third sessions, Lumen Gentium, The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church,~3 was approved almost unanimously/and was immediately pro-mulgated, November 21, 1964. ~ The course of theology these past two decades has been charted largely by the insights'of Lumen Gentium. Its pastorial stance, its :use of fresh imagery, and its insistence on the universal c, all to holiness provided a new approach to the role of .the laity. Its presentation of the episcopate (a subject whose discussion had been necessarily cut short~ during the interrupted deliberations of Vatican I) introduced collegiality. And the discussion of the relation between the Church and other Christians led not only to rapprochement with other denominations but, through recognition of the Spirit's action in all men and women, led the Church to a clearer understanding of her own nature and mission. The decision of the Council Fathers to begin their reflection at the level of mystery, and only thereafter consider the visible, hierarchical elements of the Church was not fortuitous. The work of Vatican .II was built on an .ecclesiology which had been developing for the past half century. Nevertheless the Council, by reason of its stature and its pronouncements, gave a definite impetus to subsequent studies in ecclesiology= The topic is a leading one in the system of Karl Rahner. The major post-coriciliar work of Hans Kiing deals with the Church. Edward Schillebeeckx' recent works in Christology followed upon his treatment, over a period of years,of the Church in terms of sacramentality. On the popular level Avery Dulles' Models of the Church helped the non-specialist to appreciate the Church by means of many models, intellectual constructs, each giving a particular insight into the mystery of the Church, never fully to be apprehended by any of the models, or, indeed, by all of them~ Despite the advances of Vatican II and of subsequent ecclesiology, it 5"14 ] Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 should be recognized that the theology of Vatican I1 is transition theology. Lumen Gentium, for example, is filled with fresh insights, but these are seldom developed and their relation to older views--which the Council apparently still espoused--is not always evident. For example, although: Lumen Gentium treated the'x;isible, hierarchical dimension of:the Church only in second place, the institutional element still looms large, partially, of course, because it could be dealt, with in practical, coherent terms. (Probably the Church as institution is still the model in. possession~among the rank and file.) Again, the Council documents speak often of charismata (dona is the word used) but apart from insisting that these must be respected when shown to be genuine, little is said about the. relationship between "the gifts, both hierarchical ,and charismatic"~4 and their interplay. All in all, a kind of nervousness characterizes some postconciliar theology, especially in "official" statements~ a tendency to distrust the initial steps taken by the Council Fathers and to return to the safer paths of neoscholasticism.~5 l.believe Essential Elements shows such a tendency. At the.same time, by its consideration of the Church0primarily as mystery and its subordination of hierarchical to charismatic elements, Lumen Gentium itself supplied ammunition for the kinds of anti-institutional attacks we have witnessed in recent years. By a sort of semantic shift, "institutional, hierarchical Church" is sometimes referred to as.a separate entity over against---even in conflict with--the "charismatic Church?' When such polarization occurs it is easy to neglect or deny the interpenetration of the visible and invisible dimensions. An authentic theology, however, must develop from an under, standing of the Church as a single reality, both visible and invisible, having both hierarchical and charismatic elements. 16 One consequence of polarization can be seen in a renewed emptiasis upon institutional factors, possibly to balance what is, seen as a too enthusiastic espousal of a "spiritual" Church. Such stress is found in Essential Elements, which notes that the Church's hierarchic character proceeds from the headship of Christ,17 and calls deliberate attention to "the divine and hierarchical structure of the Church."~8 Posing the two dimensions one against the other can be avoided by the sacramental recognizing nature of the Church, an aspect Which is treated in a few, but crucial, sections of Lumen Gentium. Its opening paragraph names the Church."a kind of sacrament or;sign of intimate union with God, and of the unity of' all mankind." It insists that the visible assembly and the spiritual community"form one interlocked reality which is composed of a human and a divine element."~9 But here again the insight is not developed and we are not told how the Church is this sign.20 . .0 The-sacramental principle--a distinguishing mark Of Roman Catho-licism- affirms that God works in and through visible, material :reality. The" principle stems from the realization that, since men and women are finite and limited, the divine is available only sacramentally, that is, by mediation. This sacramental encounter is the point of intersection between God and hispeople, an encounter is the point of intersection between God and his people, an Ecclesial Relationships for Religious / 515 encounter through which the grace of Christ reaches individuals and communi-ties. As Thomas Aquinas teaches, Jesus Christ is the great sacrament of God's presence and salvific action. Similarly the Church is the sign of Christ and the Spirit's'~healing presence among us. This traditional teaching has been utilized by many contemporary theologians who see in sacramentality a key to understanding the Church and her mission. Essential Elements insists that religious life "in a special way participates in the sacramental nature of the People of God."~1 But even if one considers the Church primarily in sacramental terms, as the document~ purports to do,22 the visible, institutional aspects can be overpowering--and Essential Elements is here a parade example. It is quite possible to accept :fully the principle of mediation and at the same time object to its wholesale application. In the widest sense sacramentality or mediation applies to the realities through, which the transcendent is disclosed and communicated tb us--realities also through which .our responses to the transcendent are experienced. It is in this very broad sense that Essential Elements uses the principle. This extension of the concept of mediation to numerous aspects of religious life meets with strong criticism and resistance. The document is heavily weighted in terms of mediation through the visible Church and her hierarchy. For example, the profession of the counsels is mediated by the Church;23 it is the Church that authenticates and mediates consecration;24 and continues to mediate the consecratory action of God.2~ Further, the document is replete with phrases like "competent ecclesiastical authority".26 ".vows~which the Church receives",~7 and "authority conferred by the Church."~ Additional evidence of the role of mediation can be seen in the emphasis place upon consecration. Following its sources,~9 Essential Elements insists that "the baptismal gift is the. fundamental Christian consecration and is the root of all others.~° With the:same fidelity3~ it notes that religious life is "a partictilar form of consecration."~ Despite the rather frequent use of the word, however, thenotion of consecration is not central in the source documents, as is evident in specifying phrases such as "a certain special consecration."~a (It is noteworthy also that the Council' Fathers rejected De consecratis "Concern- Consecrated Persons"--as a title for the conciliar decree on religious life.) It is somewhat surprising, then; that Essential Elements has seized upon con-secration as the category unde~ which to organize what it has to say about religious life, ~tating explicitly: "Consecration is the basis of religious life,TM and then continuing to use consecration as a leitmotif in almost every subsequent section. This focus is not pleasing to everyone. True, consecration has been an honored concept in the tradition of the Church for long centuries, but it is not a popular focus today. Consecration (setting aside some one or some thing for divine worship and service) smacks of dualism, and introduces dichotomies alien to a contemporary holistic approach to reality. Rightly or wrongly, the term is seen by some as elitist, a perpetuation of the "state of perfection" 516 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 mentality. It can also be argued that a decree.addressed to members of institutes dedicated to works of the apostolate should accord a higher place to mission, even though the document is careful to note that consecration always leads to mission.35 Further, Essential Elements insists that consecration takes place through an ecclesiastical, hierarchical function; Lumen Gentium states that the liturgical setting of religious profession manifests that it is .a state consecrated to God.37' Thus the action of the Church looms large in comparison with the subjective dedication, that commitment is more decisive than its acceptance by the Church through the hierarchy, an acceptance which makes the commitment visibly and publicly ecclesial. In speaking of conse-cration through the profession of the counsels, Perfectae caritatis says that the perfection of the consecration depends on the~stability of the vows or other bonds.38. On the contrary, it should be emphasized that what consecrates is not the vows,o,but the commitment expressed through the vows," which are specification for a life of total dedication. As the documents themselves make clear, totality is the characteristic of religious life. For many .religious the category of discipleship is a far more meaningful biblical paradigm to use in talking about religious life. Critics have asked why such an attractive concept was not utilized more fully, especially in light of the earlier declaration that "since the fundamental norm of religious life is a following of Christ as proposed by the Gospel, such is to be.regarded by all communities as their supreme law."39 Discipleship is a popular theme today; its bibliography--both for religious and Christians in general--grows apace.~° Avery Dulles has revamped his models in favor of the Church as ~i community of disciples; certainly this schema does justice to the elements present in the other models.4~ Essential Elements, however, refers'only briefly~to discipleship: "Formation is the process of becoming more and more a disciple of Christ."42 Possibly the writers chose to stress consecration (even, as we have seen, expanding the comments of its sources) because discipleship is seen a~ a gift and challenge to all the people of God, and to describe religious life as a particular~ form of discipleship might not provide a sufficient distinction. Consecration, of course, implies discipleship. As already noted; the authen-ticity of the consecration depends upon the. genuine commitment of the subject, that is, upon the acceptance of the demands of a life of discipleship. Critics may be right in holding that the emphasis on consecratio.n--neces~arily external' and involving mediation--may obscure the element of personal decisions and dedication as well as invite unneeded supervison from without. Consecraton can become a mere rite--something that is done to me, Anrther aspect Essential Elements chose not to treat is the prophetic nature of religious life. Here the document imitates the reserve of its sources. Considering the prophetic role of the people of God Lumen Gentium notes only that . ¯ the holy People ofGod shares also in Christ's prophetic office. It spreads abroad a " living witness to him, especially by a life of faith and:charity and by offering tO God a Ecclesial Relationships for Religious / 517 sacrifice of praise, the tribute of lips which give honor to his name.43 Nowhere does it elaborate this theme. In the subsequent chapter on religious the many riches of their life are noted, but without specific mention of a prophetic function.'~ Essential" Elements does not go beyond its sources, although some paragraphs in the section on witness show a prophetic stance.45 Conciliar documents and subsequent pronouncements have made a studied effort to avoid defining too closely the essence of ~'eligious life. Despite the emphasis it places upon consecration Essential Elements calls tfiis the basis not the essence, of religious life. Public vows, consecration, life in community all these are described and discussed but with no affixing of strict labels. Given the evolution of religious life over the centuries (the shift from eremetical to cenobitical forms, the role of poverty, the concept of mediated obedience, the juridical nature of religious commitment)° it would be foolhardy to fasten upon any one of these important elements as everywhere and at all times essential to religious life. What the°history of religious life does make clear is that this way of life is created by a person's total dedication to God in an' exclusive relationship. Early monks were described (and later defined) as completely ded!cated to God and totally oriented to his service. To become a monk was identical with giving oneself over to God. Later St. Thomas insisted on the totallgift of one's life as the hallmark of religious life. Celibacy, renunciation, eventually mediate~d obedience all were expressions of the interior commitment to live entirely for God. The religious brings the commitment common to all Christians to the level of a lifestyle. As the core of such a life is the personal decision to respond, to the internally received vocation. Vatican II acknow-ledged this interpretation, affirming that the religious is "totally dedicated to God and is committed to the honor and service of God under a new and special title."46 Perfectae carita~is speaks of "self-surrender involving their entire lives,"47 and "a call to live for God alone."~8 Essential Elements picks up on the same note, speaking of a "profound and free self-surrender."49 The religious "dedicates the whole of life.to God's service."~0 In reflecting on the relative merits of consecration and discipleship as the better paradigm for clarifying religious life, it is ~vell to remember that all our descriptions and discussioris are part. of the history of a form of life which is still evolving. The definitive word on the Church has yet to be. spoken; how much more so for religious life! Surely there is room for more than one view. Given the conservative (preservative) nature of religious writing in general, the document of n~cessity shows a rootedness in .th+ past and a somewhat unwilling concession to the exigencies of the contempo~rary scene. But it has definitely advanced beyond positions of twenty years ago, evincing a greater understanding of different styles of community life, of the need for new forms of service, the mutuality of authority and obedience, and the nature and scope of format~.on. De.spite shortcomings, it is a document we can live and work with. 5111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 But each of us comes to the reading of Essential Elements with particular baggage of our own baggage which may lead us to accept or reject the document out of hand. I would now like to consider some of the obstacles in the way of an honest approach to Essential Elements. Today we hear a great deal about tension: tension headaches and tensions between the super-powers; harmful tensions and creative tensions; interpersonal and intrapersonal tensions. It is the last-n~med--intrapersonal--that I want to speak aboui. All of. us necessarily operate with inner tensions which can be destructive or helpful depending on how successfully we achieve a creative balance. Most ofour specific tensions can be gro.uped under the master category of a tension between the world of desire and the world of limitsP~ A consideration of this topic may furnish some insights on our attitude to the Church in general and to Essential Elements in particular. It does noi require much reflection on the data of our experience to show that human thoughts and feelings oscillate between the poles of great expectations--for ourselves and our world and a depressed.recognition of the barriers imposed by our finiteness. Lumen Gentium says it well: ¯ . tl~e modern world shows itself at once powerful and weak. capable of the noblest deeds or the foulest . The truth is that the imbalances under which the.modern world labors are.linked with that more basic imbalance rooted in the heart of man. For ~n man 'himself many elements wrestle with each other. Thus. on the one hand? as a creature he experiences his limitations in a multitude of ways. On the other, he feels himself to be boundless in his desires and summoned to a higher life.52 The language of Lumen Gentium is abstract and non-specific, but practical examples from everyda3~ life are not lacking, The realm of desires is the realm of imagining, questioning, fantasizing--outside space and time where the human spirit meets no fixed limits. We can thirst to be theacme of beauty or charm, to attain all wealth or knowledge, to abolish in~hstice and brifig peace to the world. No sooner do we pe,rceive something to be good than we can desire it. But the moment we attempt to actualize our desire we meet limits, for every acl of choice is an act of self-limitation as well. Some of these limits are built in: our sex, race, nationality. Others are products of our environment, training and education. Our desire for knowledge is contained by our mental ability, educationai opportun!ties or financial status. We can be overwhelmed by these' limits and refuse to work at transcending them or we can unrealistically deny their existence and embark on a Faustian venture doomed to failure. We mu~t have a healthy ~respect for limitations, but not settle for them. Conversely, like Daniel we must bemen and women of desire, aspiring to'excellence, but aware of limits, l~esires and limits interact: they test, correct and sustain each other. in a particular situation, however, we may deny one or the other and fail to hold them in creative (ension. We haay objectify our boundaries, making a value of our very limitations. Or we may objectify our aspirations, setting them Ecclesial Relationships for Religious / 5"19 forth as values in themselves and refusing to acknowledge any restrictions upon them.53 Briefly, and perhaps simplistically, a religious with a strongly institutional view of the Church may hold such a position through a kind of mindless loyalty which relieves her or him of responsibility for life decisions. Likewise the one who places no curb upon personal autonomy and independence may dismiss outright directives coming from hierarchical sources. The refusal to transcend limits or the failure to acknowledge them results in a harmful imbalance leading to depression, anger and arrogance. Some examples will illustrate our subject at hand relatedness to the Church. In the first place, we come up against the need to find a balance between desires and limits as we reflect upon the respective demands of tradition and experience. T.S. Eliot has observed that the mature poet must possess the historical sense--a perception not only of the past as past but of its, abiding presence: the poet must write with all of Europe in his bones.54 This kind of interaction is hard to come by, the more so in contemporary society. Our age of pluralism and personalism stresses, and quite rightly, the role of experience in living responsibly. Pope John noted this in his opening address .to the Vatican Council: ¯. the spirit of the ~,hole world expects a step forward toward a doctrinal penetration and a formation of consciousness ~n faithful and perfe~:t conformity to the authentic doctrine, which, however, should be studied and expounded through the methods ofo research and through the literary forms of modern thought. The substance of the ancient deposit of faith is one thing; the way in which it is presented is another.5~ Contemporary iheology¯in general works to correlate the classic formula-tions of faith with today's experience of salvation, a task involving past and present, tradition and experience in a process which is the pro.duct, not of caprice or whim. but of a.reflecting faith communityP6 In the particular theology of religious life we must bring our own experience to bear on the received teaching about that life. Ideally interaction should result, but realistically one or other element tradition or experience may be minimized or denied. A religious may place such restrictions on consulting the data of experience that he becomes frozen in the past. If the only thing necessary is to rec~ix~e a pat:adigm of religious life from others--whether the constitutions of my institute or hierarchical pronouncements--then personal experience is of small moment. Life then becomes a constant, perhaps defiant, reiteration of tradition. Personalism. pluralism, consultation of experience are all regarded as a betrayal of religious life. When a document like Essential Elements is received it is absorbed but held apart from the events in life which legitimately modify its content. On the other hand, a religious can objectify her own experience, making it the primary judge of reality, canonizing it to the point of neglect or denial Of the place of tradition in religious life, with a consequent dismissal of whatever does not accord with individual experience. But raw experience has little value. T.S. Eliot mourns,."We have had the experience but missed the meaning.'~7 Constitutions must do more than describe contemporary experience; they 590 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 must submit that experience to the light of the Gospel and traditional teaching concerning religious life. An oft-repeated criticism of Essential Elements is its failure adequately to acknowledge "the American e.~xperience," both the impact of democracy upon the experienc~e of religious life'in general, and the more specific American experience of the past two "decades of adaptation and renewal. Religious everywhere exist within the context of a particular culture which profoundly affects and shapes their lives. In the United States these past twenty years have witnessed the effort to articulate a form of religious life which is genuine and at the same time inculturated, that is, disengaged from the structures and customs of the past and brought into' line with contemporary American life. Inculturation is a desideratum, but so is "counterculturation," particularly for religious. Once again we .are in the world of desires and limits. The requirement~ of a culture often lead to a re-interpretation of the founder's charism. But not all elements of a culture are compatible with the Gospel; some are hostile. For authentic religious life there must be a continuing dialogue between the Gospel and its cultural expression. Let us look at another example. The Council calls us to be a pilgrim people, wayfaring Christians who have here no lasting ~ity. But the attitude proper to a pilgrim is threatened by the nester (who wants to move not at all) and by the rover (for whom change is the very stuff of life). The nester is all too willing to stay put. Religious 'who ' welcome the document's stre~s upon corporate mission, seeing in it the preservation of the founder's charism and an assurance of Church approval, need to reflect whether such l~oyalty does not stem from an exaggerated nesting instinct which makes thefia satisfied with limitations, freeing them from the risk of other works or from~the challenging forms of community and prayer which new tasks might demand. Nesters t~est comfortably in their limits, taking a passive stance and opting for the security provided by familiar structures. Nesters are often hard workers, but comfort and security, not challenge and growth, are their expectations of religious life. The kingdoffi °lSossesses for them no sense of urgency. Because such persons often do not think for themselves, they readily go along with the crowd and compromise values if this will help mairitain the status quo. To move frbm nester to pilgrim the situation must be acknowledged~ for what it is: a refusal to transcend limits and take responsibility for life. Such recognit.ion brings freedom to move beyond self, freedom to become a genuine pilgrim. Rovers too have difficulty balancing desires and limits, but of a different kind. Such religious entertain exaggerated notions of what (hey or their institute could accomplish if freed from hierarchical trammels. In warnings about scattering resources over too many works the rovers see only an encouragement of timid mediocrity and they are resentful of anyone who suggests parameters to their utopian schemes. Moving from project to project, they are voluble about what they are against--less clear about what they stand Ecclesial Relationships for Religious / 521 for. Destructive anger is often operative under the guise of zeal for the kingdom and service for the oppressed. A true pilgrim spirit cannot be attained without recognizing the poverty imposed by limitations. Johannes Metz observes: Through the transcendental expanse of his spirit, man lives in the open air. in the future of unlimited possibilities. His task is not to lose himself there, 15ut to make something of himself through them. He makes them his potentialities by his historically unique and irrevocable personal decision, through which he finds a foothold in the th~:ust of his existence. Doubtless we could multiply instances of such tensions within us. Let a final eXample serve as summary: the struggle between self-fulfillme~nt and self-transcendence. Thanks to developments in philo.sophy and the behavioral sciences our society has passed from institutionalism to personalism,,from an often static essentialism to existentialis.m. Religious life has reflected these changes. As novices many of us were "trained" (and the word is significant) in a traditional ethic Of self-denial and conformity; now we are confronted with healthful challenges to personal growth through responsible decision-making. Where once we awaited assignment at the discretion of the superior, now our gifts, our talents---even our preferences--are consulted and respected. The insights of psychology tell us that much of the discipline of the past--the asceticism, penitential practices, total-institution structures--was not the excellent means for personal development we once thought. Scores of institutes have mounted extensive programs: workshops in psychology, assertiveness training, human potential and the like--all dedicated to the self-actualization of the religious. This is to the good. Religious who were formerly content to let life happen to them, with limits imposed' by institutional structures and custom, have awakened to a sense:of freedom, responsibility and renewed vitality. They can now rejoice in new ways of acting unfettered by pessismism] legalism or guilt. But the journey°to self-fulfillment has pitfalls of its own. The goods of p~rsonal growth and independence can assume top rank in a hierarchy of objectified, individualistic values. The movement to actualize human potential can be trivialized tb the point of a petulant "doing my thing." Poised against the desire fore fulfillment is the Gospel call to conversion and self-transcendence. Behavioral scientists ask how the self of psychology and the self of the Gospel can be reconciled and some of them see no possibility of this. An easy appeal to the slogan, "The glory of God is man fully alive," would seem to suggest that the path of self-actualization is the only one we need to ~follow. But Jesus' directives about denying oneself, taking up the cross and even dying are still normative for the Christian. The dichotomy between self-fulfillment and the demands of Christian spirituality can be bridged only by a transcendence that reaches beyond both self-actualization and self-denial. Our deepest yearnings-- the desire for meaning, truth, value, love---can be satisfied only when we shift our primary focus from our personal needs and desires to the needs of others. It is to such transcendence that John Paul calls the whole Church, but 522 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1984 especially us religious, inviting us to live more intensely .the mystery of the redemption. It is a call to holiness and renewal, a call to penance and conversion.59 In practical terms the call requires objective and humble evaluation of our life. We can of course choose not to heed this particular appeal. ,We can receive the document as an unwelcome and unwarranted admonition, spend our timelooking for the hidden agenda, fault the document for its omissions and commissions. In such case we have'had the experience but missed the meaning. ~ Essential Elements is an authoritative document, but not a definitive one. Like Lumen Gentium it does not canonize the past nor consecrate tl~e present but prepa.res for the futui'e, not least of all by reason of the fruitful dialogue it can initiate. A healthy realism shows that we are all, hierarchy and religious alike, part of a sinful Church, semperformanda et reformanda. We manifest the mystery of the Lord "ina faithful though shadowed Way.'~0 Let us work to remove the shadows so that we may become those "blazing emblemsTM of the kingdom in a Church which is truly lumen gentium, the light of the world. NOTES ~Hereafter, Essential Elements or EE. The edition used is that of the Daughters of St. Paul, Boston, 1983. ~lts application must be made with due regard for the principles applicable to all magisterial pronouncements. These principles, however, are not always clear. Karl Rahner notes, ~Theology has shown relatively little interest in a more nuanced answer to the question of the proper and permissible relationship of, the average Catholic to the official teaching of the Ch,,urch." See Rahner and K-H. Weger; Our Christian Faith: Answer for the Future (New ~ork: Crossroad, 1981), p. 125. 3EE. 2. 4Lette~ of John Paul II in EE, 4. 51bid. 3. 6EE, 8. 71bid, 10:, 81bid, II. 91bid; 12. ~01bid, 38, 40, 41, 42. ~qbid, 24. ~21bid ~3Hereafter,'LG. The sohrce for this and other documents of Vatican !I is Walter M. Abbott, ed., The Documents of Vatican !! (New York: Herder and Herder, 1966)~ ~4LG, 4. ~sSee Karl Rahner,~Concernfor the Church, Theological Investigations, XX, tr. E. Quinn (New York: Crossroad. 1981), pp, 94--97, ~6"~he disjunctive use of these terms is unfortunate. Karl Rahner notes that "the official element in the Church has a ~zharismatic element. For it is evident that the gifts of the Spirit can only be regulated by a gift of the Spirit. In other words any attempt to regard the official and charisma

Issue 42.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1983. ; Trends and Issues in Spirituality, 1983 The Service of Religious Authority Negative Feelings--Positive Growth Volume 42 Number 2 March/April, ~983 R~v~J~w t:OR Rt~l.~(;~otJs I 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. RJ~v~!v,' t:o~ R~qt.~(;IotJs is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus. St. I.ouis. MO. © 1983 by R~v~t~w FOR Rt-zl.~t;Iot~s. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year Ipostage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rl.:v~l.:w ~'oR R~:u(;tot~s: 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 March/April, 1983 Volume 42 Number 2 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REv~v:w I,oR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl Io Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; Cily Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW I-'OR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from Universily Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbur, MI 48106. Priorities for Religious Pio Laghi Archbishop Laghi is Apostolic Delegate to t~ae United States. His delegation is located at 3339 Massachusetts Ave., N.W.: Washington, DC 20008. This article is the text of his homily at the joint meeting of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, held last August in San Francisco. With great personal interest I have been looking forward to this opportun-ity to lead you in eucharistic prayer and to reflect upon priorities for specially consecrated members of the Christian community. Today's readings provide an indispensable framework for this reflection. While they speak of priorities essential to any form of Christian life, they tell us in.a special way of the priorities of religious life: to respond wholeheartedly to God's call; and to respond by word and witness, equally without reservation, to the pressing hunger--the "famine"---for God's word which is as real today as in the time of Amos. Total Includes Permanent Religious !ife is essentially a total gift of self to the plan of God and to the service of his love, so that it is properly called a total "consecration." You know this well, but you know also that your commitment is renewed and strengthened by reflecting constantly on its meaning. What, then, do we mean by this total consecration which is sealed by religious vows? Everything great is final. All life-determining commitments are irrevocable. Not because they cannot be taken back (plainly they can) but because, making such commitments, we define ourselves as persons and so establish the parameters of success and failure, of generosity and selfishness, not merely for our lives but for our very selves. One of the worst aberrations of our times is the idea that one can be a religious--or a priest or a spouse--for a time. This is the very denial of the gift. 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 Those who adopt this attitude lend themselves but they do not give themselves. "What is essential in the religious vow," says Father Danielou, "is precisely that, by a definitive commitment, you are expressing this profound desire of being totally in the service of God in regard to all the eventualities of radical doubt, of questioning, and of temptation." One might say that in totally handing over his or her life to God, the religious makes with him a permanent bridge, a stable pact, a perpetual alliance. Total Includes Detachment and Attachment The words of Jesus make it clear that this total gift of self involves a two-fold movement: first, setting aside--detaching oneself from--whatever is an obstacle to the girl; second, a continuing act of positive response to the invitation--"Come back and follow me." The rich young man balked at the first step; many do. But it is possible to take this step, yet hang back from the second--"Come back and follow me." It is a permanent challenge for each religious, as for each priest and each Christian, always to renew in the context of daily life this determination to entrust one's destiny and one's self totally to God. Pride hinders us, but there is a more subtle hindrance than pride: the belief, of which we may not b'e fully conscious, that our own insight and discernment are superior--because seemingly more efficacious or even more virtuous--to the imperatives of Christ's summons as mediated to us through the particular way of life to which he has called us. Beyond detachment, one might say, lies abandonment. To take the first step but not the second is to travel only part of the way God wishes us to go. Religious Life as Witness Another fundamental point:the first function of religious life is to wit-ness- Znot to what men and women are capable of, but to what God is capable of. There are many ways of expressing this. Pope Paul Vl, in Evangelii Nunti-andi, put it with special beauty: All evangelizers--and therefore all religious-- he says, are called to be servants of the truth, not merely by speaking of abstract intellectual truth, but.by living and witnessing to God and the things of God "as if they could see the invisible" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 76). How else, in times of spiritual famine, shall we respond to that hunger of which Amos speaks, the "famine. for hearing the word of the Lord"?. One cannot give what one does not have. "At the deepest level of their being," Pope Paul tells us, "[religious] are caught up in the dynamism of the Church's life, which is ~'hirsty for the divine Absolute and called to holiness. It is to this holiness that they bear witness" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 69). Men and women are capable of much that is admirable: of courage and generosity, for example. But what is unique to sanctitY--and to religious life in its role of giving witness--is that it is not the work of men and women, but of the Spirit of God. Sanctity is not humanity at a high level of excellence. It is a radical leap, nothing less than our participation in divine life. Because it is not Priorities for Religious / 163 humanly ostentatious, it speaks all the more powerfully. "Being a challenge to the world and to the Church herself," Pope Paul remarks, "this silent witness of poverty and abnegation, of purity and sincerity, of self-sacrifice in obe-dience, can become an eloquent witness" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 69). Priorities for Religious It is a joy for me to verify the presence and the dynamic activity of so many religious, men and women, in this country--all together about 160,000. They dedicate their lives, not for a time but forever, to God and to the People of God. They are "authentic witnesses of the Gospel," irreplaceable "workers" of evangelization, the most powerful "sign of total availability to God, to the Church, and to the brethren" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 69). Prayer Among the priorities that 1 see for religious in this country, then, is the effort to ensure that prayer is an attitude toward life, so that prayer and life mutually enrich each other. This implies that prayer will lead religious to involve themselves in real life, while real-life experiences call .for intense moments of prayer. Today, as we know, along with the necessary quest for personal prayer, there is a strong concern for community prayer, for sharing one's experience of the faith, growing in one's insight into the evangelical imperatives dictated by one's circumstances, applying the events of the history of salvation, as related in Scripture, to the events of today. How important, too, that religious remain faithful to the sacramental life in its totality. There is no religious life--as there is no sanctity--apart from the Eucharist. Religious life is the expan.sion, the living out, of those energies which the Eucharist develops and nourishes in us. Our prayer must further-more be, visible and a source of encouragement to others; and this is possible through the liturgy, well prepared, well conducted, and well shared. The Social Dimension Another priority arises from awareness that the message we profess and communicate has not only a theological dimension but a social dimension. We preach a Gospel which frees men and women from sin in its roots and manifes-tations. We therefore preach and promote the human dignity and divine filiation of every human being. Preferential Option for the Poor This points to still another priority: the preferential option for the poor. Today religious increasingly find themselves in difficult, marginalized situa-tions: caring for the sick, helping those in need, promoting the rights of victims of discrimination, carrying on humble and self-sacrificing labors of many kinds. This option does not imply thb exclusion of anyone--the spiritual 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 poverty of our contemporary counterparts of the rich young man makes that clear--but it does call for a preference for the oppressed and victimized, and a constant effort to draw closer to them. This preferential option has led religious, and not only religious, to reex-amine traditional works in order to respond better to the requirements of evangelization. It has also shed a clearer light on the relationship between religious life and the poverty of the dispossessed. Beyond interior detachment and community austerity, it implies solidarity with the poor, often expressed by sharing wi~h them their conditions of life. At the same time, while adhering to this option, it is necessary to avoid certain dangers--a lack of adequate preparation, a lack of personal maturity, or a lack of evangelical motivation. At the very least these can imperil the preferential option by causing it to be misinterpreted. Hispanic Involvement There is another priority about which I also feel strongly. It concerns the presence, already substantial and rapidly growing, of so many Hispanics in the United States--their large number (almost twenty-five percent of our Cathol-ics), their religious and human values, their need for full acceptance in the Church and society. In their recent joint pastoral letter, th~ Hispanic bishops of the United States spoke of the "constant rejection" which has been "part of [the] daily life" of their people. Nevertheless, they said, "our parents taught us to love the United ~tates, although the struggle has been difficult. Our people have always struggled to improve themselves. We love the peace founded on truth, justice, love and freedom . We have not taken up arms against our country but instead have defended it. We have fought to eliminate the injusti-ces that rule our lives. The road has been long and difficult, littered with many obstacles, but we have made progress and will continue ahead with firmness and determination" ( The Bishops Speak with the Virgin: A Pastoral Letter of the Hispanic Bishops of the U.S., 1982). Yet, in the words of a Spanish-speak-ing priest of Texas, "there is a certain tendency to look upon the Hispanics as an unavoidable problem. But rejoice and appreciate us. as God's life-bear-ing gift, not only for the enrichment but even for the salvation of our Church and of our world." I recall something T.S. Eliot once said: No one is truly educated unless he or she knows a second language. These are wise words. Only then can one know what it means to be laughed at as one gropes for the right word or stumbles over its pronunciation. Truly, to know another language--in this case, Spanish--is to work for the coming of the kingdom of God and for the service of our brothers and sisters. Integration of Religious into Local and Universal Church A final priority concerns the integration of religious into the life of the local churches and the universal Church. Here, of course, a balance is essential. It Priorities for Religious / 165 was once said that religious life "has no other end but to be at the service of the priest." Plainly, however, religious must defend the specific character of their vocation against attempts, however well intentioned, simply to use them for fulfilling the immediate needs of parishes and dioceses. At the same time, though, there is another side to this coin. Individual religious, as well as their communities, must take special care to be in deep and sincere unity with the Vicar of Christ and with the orientations he gives, especially those which concern religious life or interpret the charisms of the founders of any religious institute. The same applies to their relationship with bishops. As a matter of priority, the norms contained in the Holy See's document Mutuae Relationes should be implemented in order that religious life be fully integrated into the life of the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church. Conclusion Permit me, in concluding, to quote words of Pope John Paul II which draw together many of the themes upon which I have touched. Speaking last May to religious men and women of England and Wales, the Holy Father ob-served that although "to most people you are known for what you do," never-theless "your true greatness., comes from what you are," and that can only be understood "in the light of the 'newness of life' revealed by the Risen Lord." "At some time in your lives," he said, "the call of the Lord to a special intimacy and union with him in his redemptive mission became so clear that you overcame your hesitations. You put aside your doubts and difficulties and committed yourselves to a life of total fidelity to the highest ideals of the Gospel. Your free decision was sustained by grace, and your perseverance through the years is a magnificent testimony to the victory of grace over the forces that struggl~ to tarnish the newness of. your life in Christ . "'l~oday there exists a wid~pread~mptation to unbeliEfanddespair. You, on the other hand, are committed to being men and women of deep faith and unceasing prayer. To you in a particular way may be addressed Saint Paul's exhortation to Timothy: 'Fight the good fight of the faith: take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses' (1 Tm 6:12). "Believe in the Risen Lord. Believe in your own personal vocation. Believe that Christ called you because he loves you. In moments of darkness and pain, believe that he loves you all the more. Believe in your mission within the Church. Let your faith shine before the world, as a lamp in the darkness; let it shine as a beacon that will guide a confused society to the proper appreciation of essential values. May the spiritual joy of your personal lives, and your com-munal witness of authentic Christian love, be a source of inspiration and hope" (Address to Men and Women Religious of England and Wales, May 29, 1982). Religious Life in the Young Churches Jan Snijders, S.M. At the end of 1981, Fr. Snijders finished his term in the general administration of his congrega-tion and has enjoyed a sabbatical for the past year. Presently he is lecturing in philosophy at the interdiocesan seminary of Papua, wfiere his address is: Marist College, Bomana: P.O. Box 1101 ; Boroko; Papua, New Guinea. ~n a periodical that aims at providing a forum for theological and spiritual reflection on religious life one does not have to underline the importance of religious life, and the case of tile Young Churches is not so different as to warrant an exception. The entire Church has become missionary (or should have). The contribution of religious to the mission of the Church and espe-cially their religious consecration itself are to manifest in all churches, young and old, that "the kingdom of God is at hand" (AG, 18; LG, 44). While pontifical and conciliar documents are eloquent on the subject of fostering religious life in the Young Churches, they are prudently vague on how this should be done, on who should do so and on the forms that religious life should take. Religious superiors too are probably very wise to keep things out of the limelight. Growth and adaptation are processes of a delicate nature. Premature publicity and interventions could easily do more harm than good. All of this may explain why so little is being written by private observers or scholars on the~ founding of local re!igious institutes and on the spreading of international institutes in the Young Churches. Still these things are taking place everywhere and a few general remarks can be of use to people trying to make responsible decisions. Are Local Foundations Preferable? Among the many connected questions there is one that especially observers in the "old" churches often bring up: ls it not better to leave the field to local 166 Religious Life in the Young Churches / 167 foundations so that religious life from the beginning can be thoroughly Afri-can, Indian, or whatever the case may be? Before proposing elements of a possible answer we must note that, as a matter of fact, local sisterhoods have been founded nearly everywhere and many are flourishing. Local lay institutes of men are much less numerous, and rare are those that can be said to flourish; in fact, one does not have to be very widely informed to know of several that after the first generation of members have ceased to exist. Practically nonexistent are clerical institutes founded in the Young Churches, with a very few, but notable exceptions. If the long-distance observer's concern for the "contextualization" of reli-gious life is praiseworthy, the assumption that it has a better chance in local institutes is debatable. For every case that substantiates the assumption there may be one that disproves it! Admittedly, a local community is never under pressure from faraway higher superiors to conform to rules and customs that originated in different cultures. But, even so, their first models of religious life were necessarily expatriates and the spontaneous desire of local religious communities to imitate foreign patterns may be a more effective force against what outsiders might conceive of as "contextualization" than pressure of higher superiors possibly could be. Conversely, local members of an interna-tional group are just as likely to carve out an identity of their own by insisting on local adaptations. In any case, those distant higher superiors who sup-posedly insist on foreign rules will in many cases prove to be either mythical figures or memories of a past that has disappeared many years ago! There are good reasons for local institutes, but "contextualization" is a doubtful one. A recent Roman document extolled (and perhaps exaggerated) the value of international religious institutes.~ In any case their importance cannot be doubted: they are able to respond to needs and opportunities across the globe; they provide spiritual renewal where local means fail; they form a network of communion and unity where local Churches become excessively particular; they carry a rich spiritual heritage and have the resources to revitalize it. If in the older churches local communities successfully work alongside of local branches of international ones, it would seem a little patronizing to doubt that this could be so in the Young Churches. Moreover, international institutes allow the Young Churches to take part in fbreign missionary activity (AG, 38). ¯ Local communities have advantages that 1 shall mention further on, but they also have to cope with disadvantages. It is not fair to .demand that local ordinaries (such communities usually are of diocesan right) always manage to strike a perfect balance between rightful concern and respect for internal autonomy. But it means that especially small lay communities at times suffer under interference from one bishop, only to be neglected by his successor.2 Local communities often were founded by a missionary or a bishop to respond to immediate and urgent needs. One cannot expect all founding fathers or mothers to be saints or spiritual giants. With the passing of time needs change and the initial inspiration dries up. For institutes to be flexible 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 and to retain spiritual vigor they need somehow to stay in contact with one of the great spiritual traditions of the Church. For the large orders and congrega-tions it must therefore always be a sacred duty to assist small communities without infringing on their autonomy and identity. "Planning" For The Spirit Much more complicated are the questions that arise when we look at the implantation of international religious orders and congregations. Granting that, in principle, there is a place for them in the Young Churches, one still has to ask whether it is opportune to do so, and under what conditions. But before tackling those questions a more basic one must be answered, namely whether such,matters can and must be "planned" at all. Shouldn't one leave things entirely to the free movements of the Spirit who calls whom he chooses, where he chooses? The religious vocation is an indix~idual gift of God and the receiver has an inalienable right to follow the call of the Lord. The task of superiors, ecclesias-tical and religious, can only be to discern, to respect and to encourage the movements of the Spirit in the hearts of people who feel themselves called. Granted this point of departure, it still remains a fact that God's call usually leads the receiver to ask admission in a particular community, and then the superiors concerned have a right and a duty to decide whether it is for the good of the candidate and of the community to accept her or him. And, in a place where that particular community is not firmly established, that is bound to be a delicate question, especially if it concerns a single applicant, or a very small number. Unless a community is going to be firmly established among the people from whom the applicants come, accepting them carries the risk that they will pass their religious lives as strangers, either permanently in a foreign country or as the lonely locally-born among foreign fellow religious in their own country. Of course people may be called to do just that, but it demands a high measure of psychological balance, of personal maturity, and of spiritual depth. Unless these gifts are clearly present, superiors may have to conclude that the candidate is not called to such an exceptional life. The fact that candidates ask for admission may lead the community to attempt a permanent foundation in their country. Conversely, candidates can be accepted, and even sought, in view of a planned foundation. Whatever the case may be, the decision to establish the order or the congregation in a new country is distinct from the decision to accept a few individual candidates, even if one thing will eventually lead to the other. We have two separate decisions, each to be made on its own merits, and not necessarily by the same people. For one thing, accepting candidates is the responsibility of religious superiors only; starting a foundation needs the agreement of ecclesiastical superiors. My conclusion is that, while we must respectfully follow the movements of the Spirit, we cannot abandon prudent "planning," i.e., weighing changes and consequences whenever candidates are to be admitted and foundations in the Religious ~fe in the Young Churches / 169 Young Churches are considered. The Spirit also asks responsible decision making. Reasons to Hesitate I have started from the assumption that it is not self-evident that all religious orders and congregations should attempt to begin foundations every-where in the Young Churches. I have argued that the matter must not be confused with the question of eventually admitting a few individual candidates but also that, on the whole, there is a place for international institutes within the Young Churches. So why, the initial assumption? Foi several centuries missionary activity Was organized around the so-called ius commissionis whereby missionary territories were entrusted to a missionary or religious institute. This means that usually only one clerical institute was present in a given area and only a very few lay institutes, often in some way related to the ~lerical institute to which the mission was entrusted. Naturally, local candidates to the religious life would usually enter either a local community founded on the spot, or the international institute working there. Now, the former mission territories have gradually become dioceses in their own right, the ius commissionis has disappeared, and a healthy diversifi-cation of missionary and religious institutes has taken the place of the earlier "monopolies." It can now no longer be self-evident that a religious institute will found itself wherever it helps founding the Church. And there can be very good reasons why in certain cases it should not do so. The main reason for this view is the one discreetly hinted at by the Bishops' Conference of Senegal and Mauritania in a Declaration on the Vocational Apostolate of 1978.3 The bishops ask that "in a spirit of generosity, dispersion be avoided." Let us look at this idea of "dispersion." We must admit that life in an intercultural setting is demanding. Generally speaking, people can be expected to feel and to function better at home, and to show a healthier growth among people of their own culture (one advantage of local foundations!). The prob-lems of intercultural communities are still not rod difficult if the "mixture" of cultures is balanced but they become more serious for a small minority in a group that for the rest is solidly of one race, nationality or language. Especially for young people the problems this poses can be nearly insurmountable. The consequences are obvious wherever one is dealing with small Catholic populations. ! do not know of any study that has come to firm conclusions on the question of how many vocations can reasonably be expected to come from a given Catholic population. The variations according to country and period of history are considerable, but clearly there are limits. If the religious voca-tions of a small Catholic population are spread over a disproportionate number of religious institutes, then many of the locally-born religious will for-ever be minorities among the foreign missionaries. "171~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 Will those religious be able to cope with the stresses of this situation? Will, in the communities that have such minorities, the groups of local people ever grow large enough to reach what could be called "critical mass," i.e., a group large enough to spark creativity and lead to genuine indigenization of religious life? Finally, what happens if the international institute has to withdraw from the country, for lack of vocations at home, for political reasons, or whatever? Will the few locally-born members leave with the foreigners? Will they be left stranded by themselves? The situation is far from imaginary. One example may illustrate what dispersion can look like. Before the war eleven clerical religious orders and congregations entered Japan. In 1981.all but one had Japanese priests among their members. Between 1947 and 1958 sixteen other clerical institutes followed them into Japan and in 1981 twelve of those had Japanese priests among their members, in the following proportions and absolute members:4 Entered Before the War Entered After the War 87.5% = 21out of 24a 71.1% = 4 out of 7 84 %= 21 out of 25 31%=9out of 29 82.6% = 43 out of 52 28.5%=4out of 14 78.9%= 15 out of 19 25 %= 3outof12 50 %= 4out of g 21.4%= 3out of 14 44.8% = 78 out of 174 20.8% = 5 out of 24 43.3% = 39 out of 90 20 %=2outofl0 43.1%=41 out of 95 19 %=8out of 42 33.8% = 91 out of 277 17.3% = 4 out of 23 9.4%= 5outof 53 I1.1%= 1 outof 9 ai.e. 21 Japanese priests 6.6% = I out of 15 out of 24 priests in 3.1% = 2 out of 64 Japan In all but one of the pre-war set the Japanese priests are in the majority or form substantial and viable minorities. In the post-war set the Japanese members are, both proportionately and in absolute numbers, in far from promising situations. It cannot be without significance that.for the same year the institutes of the first set mention that they have together 83 members studying for the priestho6d, respectively (in the same order as above): 0, 1,9, I, 0, 8, 19, ! 1, 25, 9. The institutes of the second set register together eleven students, spread over four institutes. The other eight have none at all. It is not reasonable to expect the picture to change substantially. Already the vocation rate in Japan is "exceptionally high (but going down): more than 850 Japanese priests (diocesan and regular) in a Catholic population of about 400,000. The rate is still higher if we take into account the preponderance of Japanese women over men in the Church. Similar dispersion could probably be registered among lay religious in Japan. The clear division between pre-war and post-war entries is perhaps particu-lar to Japan but it must be far from the only place where serious dispersion is taking place. Unfortunately very few places have such splendid publications as Religious Life in the Young Churches / 171 the Japan Catholic Directory and reliable information is scarce. A Matter of Criteria If there is a place in the new churches for international religious institutes but not everywhere for all of them, choices must be made and criteria are needed: What factors constitute reasons for or against an eventual foundation? Firstly, we must take into account what has already been said about the danger of dispersion: What is the size of the Catholic population and how many institutes already exist among them? Is there room for more? Or is the area "saturated"?. One does not need hard and fast rules to make a prudent assessment. Secondly, an institute must take stock of its resources for the formation of eventual candidates. Wouldn't it be presumptuous to admit candidates if one does not have the personnel and the means to offer them a good spiritual and professional formation? And it cannot be assumed that a solid formation can ordinarily be given by sending young people to a foreign country, or by entrusting them to formators who are not familiar with the candidates' culture. The fact that this has been done in the past and that it has been known to succeed does not ~jusify doing it on a general scale: The failure of those experi-ments cannot be overlooked. Faced with the decision whether or not to seek and admit candidates, an-institute must honestly ask itself, especially today, if it has the personnel to maintain an adequate presence in the host country for a long enough period of time. A careful look at how long it has taken new provinces in the past to reach "cruising speed" and assure self-sustained growth can help to make an intelli-gent guess. By way of target figure l would propose that a clerical institute must reckon with a good twenty-five years before the local religious can reasonably be expected to carry on withou( substantial outside support. Lay institutes may not need that much time. The already mentioned Declaration of the Bishops of Senegal and Mauri-tania says that an institute should have a substantial presence in the country. But what is "substantial"?. I am inclined to think that their presence can just as easily be too big as too small. The founding community must of course be large enough to show diversity of talents and personalities. Each person's weaknesses must be balanced out by the strengths of others and candidates must be presented with an ample range of models. But if the founding com-munity gets a little too large then the chances are that it lacks buoyancy and that it has too many other interests besides founding. Especially important is the minoriO, effect. In a large group of expatriates the locally-born religious remain for too long a minority; the foreigners' ways remain normative; locals waste their energy fighting for room and their creativity is not given enough scope. The last point varies with the way the founding group is composed. If all are of the same home country, the minority effect on the locals is all the more stifling. Any group of people of the same background, living together in 172 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 a foreign country, tends to cultivate their common memories and cultural traits more than they ever would at home. In spite of the most noble intentions they often are, unwittingly, quite intolerant of local ways. An international group on the contrary that has proved to be able to function together has great advantages--the locals soon find their own niche. The minority effect is mini-mized: everyone is a minority, thus no one is. A religious community that believes in its spiritual heritage naturally seeks to expand. This general framework however can carry incidental traits that provide important indications as to the viability of an eventual "implantation" project. A missionary group actually engaged in one of the Young Churches, seeing that no replacements or reinforcements can be expected from the home province or the order as a whole, turns to local vocations in the hope of ensuring the continuity of its works. But this complex of attitudes must raise doubts about their ability to take in local vocations. Are they not too much preoccupied with their past achievements? Does the search for security not play too large a role? ls the specifically "religious" commitment central enough in their lives? Religious communities and superiors in the older churches that see the former flow of vocations dry up can be tempted by tales of plentiful vocations in some faraway place (even if true). Add a touch of cultural romanticism about our "decadent Western civilization" and about "the spiritual youth of unsophisticated people" and the scene is set for another unfortunate experi-ment. It may sound harsh but the general rule should be that religious who do not project their enthusiasm at home and who do not attract young people of their own culture to follow them, should not attempt to do so either among young people of another culture. This is not a matter of inviting negative comments on the motivations of religious either at home or in the foreign missions, but simply a matter of objective appraisal of their suitability to undertake a particularly demanding task. These criteria add up to a formidable list! No situation is ever going to be hundred-per-cent perfect. Still, the community that accepts young members in a new country takes on a grave responsibility. The picture as a whole must be fairly favorable to justify going ahead. It is not the kind of project that asks for bold ,risks: The generosity of young people and the future of religious life in the emerging churches is at stake. Conclusion Religious institutes belong to the life of the Church. They provide their members with ways to follow Christ. Religious discover in their own lives and show others that the kingdom of God is at work here and now. Every culture, like every individual, is in need of conversion.5 Therefore religious institutes should be present in all the churches in the diversity that is part of their charism (PC, 1; ND, I1, 12, 29). But unless this program is implemented with great care, we risk defeating our purpose and Religious ~fe in the Young Churches / "173 people of good will would suffer the consequences. This article does not pretend to have touched on all the aspects of religious life in the New Churches. It will have attained its goal if the problems involved receive a little more attention and, when choices are to be made, problems would be discussed in realistic and open exchange. NOTES ~ Directives for the Mutual Relations between Bishops and Religious, 23rd of April 1978 signed by Paul VI. Quoted as "ND.". -'See REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. 1980, pp. 122-123. ~ Dbclaration des Evbques du Sbnbgal et de la Mauritanie sur la Pastorale des Vocations, Dakar, 13 July, 1978, p. 4. 4These figures are based on information contained in the Japan Catholic Director.v, 1981, with minor adjustments where different tables did not quite agree. 5Cardinal Pironio, Message aux Religieux et Religieuses d'Afrique, Informationes SCRIS, 1978, II, p. 279. NOW AVAILABLE From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions land II by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Currents in Spirituality A God for a Dark Journey: Trends and Issues in Spirituality, 1983 George Aschenbrenner, S.J. This is Father Aschenbrenner's fourth annual survey of the field of spirituality. He now resides in St. Alphonsus House, a residence for Jesuits at St. Joseph's University. The address is 5800 Overbrook Ave.; Philadelphia, PA 1913 I. This is the fourth in a series of articles--appearing annually--which the editor asked for with a view to exploring and reflecting upon currents in American spirituality. Last year's articlO gave extensive space to a description of the larger context and environment within which, in my judgment, the spiritual trends an~d issues discussed were developing. That major influence and context, within which all American spiritual life is being lived, was seen to be secularization--rapid, continuing secularization. The lengthy first part of last year's article sought clearly to distinguish between what it viewed as a necessary and very healthy dynamic--seculariza-tion- from its pervasive and very destructive alternative--secularism. This present article is, fundamentally, a continuation of last year's perspective and approach. It directly assumes and builds further upon that reflection on secu-larization and secularism. I would suggest, then, that the reader may be helped to read the opening sections of last year's article. I take this approach because I remain persuaded that, from many different angles, there continues to be a concern and struggle in American spirituality to balance on the tightrope of this secularizing trend in our contemporary faith life while avoiding the easy missteps that lead, whether gradually or abruptly, into secularism. Besides the overarching theme of secularization, the concrete, specific trends and issues themselves which are reflected on here also relate this article 174 A God for a Dark Journey somewhat to last year's reflections. This is so--not surprisingly--because our important experiences, and what we manage to make of them with God's grace, are generally in continuity even while, at the same time, our spiritual life really grows and really changes. In some cases, therefore, trends and issues treated here are obviously direct developments of topics discussed before. In other cases, though the trend or issue 1 am writing about now may appear new, reader's closer reflection will show that, whether explicitly or implicitly, the matter actually relates to the same basic theme: our spiritual struggle as American Christians to incarnate the life and love of God in our rapidly secularizing world. 1. The God of Darkness and Suffering Our rapidly secularizing and highly technological world can be very decep-tive and misleading. In most of the world we have available light of whatever color and intensity we choose all through the day and night, No more dark-ness. Computers, cameras, radios and recorders seem to promise constant companionship and communication. No more isolation. And yet, together with all this garish light and constant talk, there is a lingering and growing sense of darkness, of alienation, impoverishment and loneliness. For a while this past year we could read of three actual wars in the papers each day: in the Falklands, in Iraq, and in Lebanon. Though the inevitable destruction and carnage of those wars was disguised and muted temporarily, gradually the terrible details came to be revealed. Slowly but stubbornly our troubled economy has been squeezing not only comfort and convenience, but hope and life out of many of the jobless poor in this country. Most of the world events and concerns mentioned in last year's article continue to be active among u's.2 This suffering and violence often visit a despairing darkness and sense of emptiness upon the human soul. To find God in this darkness and emptiness is a growing challenge. Because, for most of us, God is more obviously associated with light, fullness, wholeness, with the beautiful richness of being, people today have more of a sense of forsakenness and abandonment in their experience of the empty darkness. Nor will the immediate future, of our secular world bring a sudden evaporation of this darkness and alienation. Rather than attempting to escape the darkness, therefore, we must learn to look deeper into it, to find God present everywhere--and always a God of personal love and intimate care. The negative, or apophatic, element in our experience of God, then, may be taking on more practical importance today in spirituality. As David Rast has said: "Only if we can know the God whose transcendent greatness allows him to be 'no-where,' can we gradually experience our God as always 'now-here.'" This is the approach of Pseudo-Dionysius, of The Cloud of Unknow-ing, which leads beyond the surface light of God's love into the depths of a darkness of faith where the God of loreand light is experienced in a great 176 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 simplicity of presence and faith. The experience needed here is the one I described in last year's article as the protection against secularism. Now l~think we are facing some specific implications of this experience of God. If we do not settle for a God who is too small, then we can find a God of light, fullness, wholeness and beauty in the pervasive darkness, emptiness, fragmentation and horror of our world and of our hearts. A God whose greatness and majesty can make human hearts tremble in awesome wonder is also so inextricably involved in this world that the intimacy of love in Jesus can quiet human hearts even in the most fearsome and trying situations. As events in our world and in our personal lives shock and strip us to the very core of our being, we must, rather than despairing and falling into an unreal world either of denial or of naive optimism, learn to plumb the depths tofind the God who holds all being, and so each of us, in existence. In the depths of a heart experiencing pitch-darkness or crass evil or chilling emptiness, there is present a God without whom being and existence cannot be. And this God, our God, is always love. It is the God whose love and care were always present to Jesus on Calvary, even when he sensed a chilling absence. We are now struggling, and we will continue to struggle, to find what Louis Dupr6 calls The Deeper Life.3 We need to discover the God whose pervasive and intimate love is finally revealed more fully through the negations of an apophatic spirituality, that same love which, like a quiet flame at the center of all being, is sometimes experienced.like a torch for great zeal, at other times like a white heat apparently consuming while actually laying bare the divine center of our true identity. Dupr+ describes the attitude involved in this pro-found experience of God: "Unconditional trust without knowing what it is we trust, willingness to let go without knowing whether anyone will ever catch us, preparedness to wait without knowing whether we will be met.~Total looseness and unconditional trust are the virtues negative theology teaches us to culti-vate. There could be no more appropriate lesson in our time.TM 2. The Temple of the Human Heart In a rapidly secularizing world, public life provides less and less of the genuinely religious. Shrines and temples seem useless. The decay of their buildings speaks of a dead past. Christendom, it would seem, has long since died and does not offer even a desirable ideal any more. The world and society are no longer built or structured according to a Christian vision, nor, for that matter, according to any genuinely religious vision. For many people, this seems no great loss. But for the person of faith and religious sensitivity, the situation presents a great challenge. Realizing the futility of trying to turn back contemporary developments, to return to a past age's forms of public religious expression, we see that we are being invited instead to enter the temple of our own hearts. It is not enough, though, that the ontological reality of every human heart makes it actually a temple of God. We need consciously to app.reciate this, to cooperate actively A God for a Dark Journey / 177 with the adornment of this uniquely personal temple. Without a sense of itself as this personal religious temple, the heart's faith can die as it falls prey to secularism. This temple of the human heart, however, cannot be wholly an inward reality. It must find some appropriate externalization. The inner sanctuary, of course, mus~ be highly personal and intimately religious--a profound meeting of God and of our truest self. And yet, while profoundly personal and inti-mately unique, this inner temple ought not promote a closed individualism. The human heart where God lives and is adored and loved cannot become a church unto itself. The God who is known and reverenced in our own hearts is at once the source of, and the invitation to, community, the community of the human family and the community of the Church.This religious temple of the heart, if its air is to remain healthy and invigorating, will require, especially in a secularistic, religionless world, some appropriate external aids, like the desig-nated chapel of a religious community or a special place in one's own room, and a special time set aside for regular prayer. When the human heart has thus become a carefully provisioned temple of the Lord, the person has also become capable of an inner life of quiet intimacy and peace everywhere, whether it be in a bustling subway, or in the solitary confinement of a jail, or in the dangerous crowding of a refugee-boat or on the death-bed of a cancer patient. At times our hearts will be temples of bright light focusing on a God joyfully imaged and named in Jesus. At other, catas-trophic and confusing times, this temple will be darkened, housing a God temporarily nameless and unknown. In either atmosphere, this templeis a place where we bend low in quiet awe and in reverently trustful abandonment to a Love that fires ministry for God's justice in our world. This profound inner life o~ personal religious experience will be increas-ingly necessary as we move to the future. And it is always available, because of that God whom Jesus spoke of as seeing and rewarding all hidden gestures of love: "Let it be a secret between you and your Father. And your Father who knows all secrets will reward you.'~ Karl Rahner, in an article entitled "The Spirituality of the Church of the Future," sums up this trend and its issue: "It has already been pointed out that the Christian of the future will be a mystic or he will not exist at all. If by mysticism we mean., a genuine experience of God emerging from the very heart of our existence, this statement is very true and its truth and importance will become still clearer in the spirituality of the future.'~ 3. To lk Peoplg of the Church Many people continue to grapple with the role of the Church in their Christian identity. Whether these be earnest novices in a religious congrega-tion, serious students in a seminary or college, or young people just returned from some volunteer service and about to enter into a parish, the issue is always the same: in living a genuine and generous love for God, how much 171t / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 must one be a person of the Church? And the issue centers on the institutional Church. Can I stand for, and identify myself (maybe in some necessarily special way) with this international institution that is the Catholic Church? It is a matter of conscience for some whether they can identify with some of the practices and policies of the Church. Many, while believing in God and living generous lives of service, either explicitly reject membership in the Church or effectively live their religion without any real relationship to the Church. This is a complicated matter, but one that must be ~faced by the whole spectrum of Church membership, from pope and bishop to parishioner in the pew. A specific cause, or combination of different causes, can raise the issue critically for different persons: a domineering clerical attitude encountered; monotonous, uninformed preaching; a successful remarriage after divorce; the prohibition of women's ordination--or maybe even the prohibition of their service as lectors; and many other reasons. For an increasing number of people, practices within the institutional Church which they perceive to be unjust are making membership in the Church more and more painful and questionable. To the query as to how much one must identify with the institu-tional Church, answers would range far and wide. Some would almost identify the Church with the institution, while others would play down the institution to almost no significance--and thus would think the entire question otiose. A "sense of Church" must be reclaimed for many people. For the fully Christian mind and heart, the mystery of God in Christ Jesus, and therefore the mystery of the whole human family, is incarnational and communal--and universal. All this says community. And not just sect, either--but Church. But we must all be concerned that it be a Church that is attractive, inspiring, demanding, inviting. The development of such a Church that others can believe in will continue to be the task of us all. The Church on all levels of its membership must continue to struggle for a more genuine following of Jesus in our world. Some gather regularly into small groups to share life and faith and find support in community. This can begin to provide an experience of community which is at the core of Church. But it does not, in the long run, suffice. To see the glory of God in a weak, human Church, struggling in the Spirit,'is never easy. It requires a stubborn hope, the hope of a genuine love, sometimes, surely, critical, but always a lover of the Church.7 4. An Expansive Ministry Born in Forgiveness Especially iri religious life, but also throughout the whole Church, it is getting more and more difficult to find people competent and willing to under-take ministries of difficult responsibility. In religious life, some major superiors speak of a crisis of leadership. They speak of a lack of available and suitable men and women for the challenging roles of leadership either in the religious community itself or in the apostolic works of the community. It may be a formation director; the pastor of a new black or Hispanic parish, a third-world mission assignment or a superior in a larger community. But the issue is always A God for a Dark Journey the same: men and women to fulfill these challenging tasks. We have renewed our concept of the role-model for a religious superior and for the leader of our apostolic works. But it is difficult to find men and women suitable and willing to undertake such missions. Among the consequences of this leadership crisis, paramount is the inter-ference it is causing with the service that religious communities could otherwise render in the world. This leadership need is not to maintain past, outmoded structures, but rather to inspire and facilitate more unified and effective service in response to new, serious challenges facing the Church in today's world. Is this leadership failure a result of faulty formation? This is a question worthy'of reflection on the part of all of us. And it must be answered carefully. The profound renewal of contemporary religious formation has involved a necessary development in a direction quite different from the past. The stress on individual responsibility and careful respect for the gifts and talents of the individual has correctly tailored formation programs increasingly to the strengths and weaknesses of each individual. But while moving in this person-oriented direction, we have not, perhaps, maintained or developed as well as we might that healthy sense of self-abnegation which would allow an individ-ual to be truly available for more of the service-needs of the religious group. This is a necessary correction/refinement of contemporary formation that we now recognize and can implement. In an earlier article, I called this the devel-opment of a more refined Christian personalism which would help us recog-nize and transform the very real, though subtle, self-serving tendencies in all our hearts,s ° As we ponder the difficult ministries facing us now and in the future, we must remember that all genuine ministry is rooted in devotion. Ministry is neither something carelessly superimposed from above, nor somethifig nar-rowly limited to an individual's comfort and convenience.Devotion here is not some emotional pietism. Rather, it is the experiential capacity to find God-- something that runs much deeper than emotion and feeling. Formation pro-grams should provide a great diversity of experiences, in order to stretch the person's capacity for devotion far beyond what might have been originally expected. If an individual's ability to find God is too narrowly limited, that person's lack of availability for service can easily become a future liability. This trained, experiential ability to find God in various ministries and situations always involves a kind of self-transcendence. This transcendence is made possible thrbugh an abnegation of self which is motivated and inspired by an experience of the greatness of God's love for me, The goodness of God's love is exhilarating and expansive, attracting the human heart beyond nar-rowly self-centered concerns. Heroism for God is born here. But without a growing mortification, one that is not destructive but revelatory of our true self in God, the devotion of finding the expansive joy of God's love in many future ministries simply is not possible. Another aspect of this crisis of leadership for ministry is our ebbing expe- 1~10 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 rience of forgiveness. Forgiveness is meant to be the birthplace of great zeal for ministry. God's gratuitous forgiveness sets off a dynamic which turns the heart outward for service. To be forgiven beyond one's wildest dream is not some-thing to be kept to oneself, but becomes a life of service of others. The greater the sense of forgiveness, the greater and more expansive will be the zeal of devotion for finding God in ministry. But a trend I mentioned three years ago continues to haunt us in this whole matter of a vigorous availability for ministry which is essentially rooted in the religious experience of forgiveness? and it is this. We remain timid and con-fused in our admission of personal sin. As we continue to grow out of an unhealthy, Jansenistic, legalistic sense of sin (especially in the sexual realm), we are left with a vacuum, since we have not yet properly assimilated a healthy sense of social sin or personal sin (also in the sexual realm). Fears of self-hatred and unhealthy guilt still dull our sensitivity to the healthy guilt and shame that are always part of the grace of a forgiving God seeking out the sinner. But so long as our past leaves us confused and quite unresponsive to our present sinfulness, we cannot experience the full dynamic of God's forgiveness in our hearts. And it is only an acknowledged sinner, humbled in the truth of forgive-ness, who receives.from God an expansive zeal for ministry. The effect of a shallow experience of forgiveness finally registers in minis-try. If one is not driven to ministry through forgiveness, one can fabricate one's own ministry in too selfish a manner. Rather than receiving a ministry from God in the devotion of forgiveness, a person can cling to a ministry with an angry arrogance and impatience that often speaks of improving and aggrandiz-ing oneself rather .than serving the needs of others. Further, this experience of being humbled in the truth of one's sin and God's forgiveness is always an important sign distinguishing a true prophet from a false prophet. In these days when prophecy is a more noticed phenomenon among us than before, and when we are in need of the inspiration of true prophets, we cannot forget that the true prophet is forged in the zeal and humility of forgiveness. 5. A New Way of "Making" Catholics Any remedy for the deficient sense of personal sinfulness mentioned in the previous trend will require much more than our renewed rite for the reception of the sacrament of reconciliation. This renewed rite, in practice now for about eight years, though it is an improvement, has obviously not by itself renewed the experience many people have of God's forgiveness. What is needed is a whole catechesis to help people recognize in their own hearts the dynamic of receiving God's gift of forgiveness. This raises the issue of how Catholics are formed and trained, raised in the faith these days. It is a matter of how people over a lifetime continue to enter the Church. There seems to be a great change occurring here which will have tremendous implications for the future. Most of us were raised in a Catholic school system where we had drilled into us the essentials and practices of A God for a Dark Journey / 1111 Catholic life. But things have changed. There are not nearly as many religious serving as teachers as before. Many parish schools have closed. And besides, many of those simple, clear essentials of Catholic life are not so simple and clear any more. As formal Catholic schooling becomes less and less available, CCD and other methods of religious education take on greater importance. Often in the past CCD was not very effective. It was.perceived as a definite second-best to the parochial school. But that view is slowly changing, and it must continue to change. As the whole procedure and atmosphere of formal schooling become less and less the way of handing on faith, new replacements must be instituted. Genuinely Catholic believers will never sprout fully grown from the ground. Besides learning the doctrines of faith, young people must receive a feel for the faith life. They must be allowed to admire it as they see it lived and shared by others. As Michael Warren, an expert in youth ministry, claims: Young per-sons need the fidelity of adults who care for them.~° The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults has received very good press. Some have called it "a revolutionary document" as it ritualizes a process of initiation into the Church which "gives first priority to the mystery of God's love for us.TM It can also be used as a guide in the baptism of infants.12 While this document expresses a better view of Church and ritualizes much better the process of initiation into the Church, its effectiveness will very much depend on the proper attitudes of priests and laity, and the availability of enough competent, generous, committed adults. Only in this way will the words of the document come to life as an ongoing process of initiation, a real catechumenate, which can help transform both how we "make" Catholics and what genuine Catholic life will look like in the future. RCIA, then, over a period of years, can play a large role in the formation of Catholics, but it cannot dispense us from the serious experimentation needed to discover and develop other forms of religious education that will be effective formatively on persons through their young years and on into their adulthood. I do not want to be misunderstood. I am not calling for the abolition of all Catholic schools. 1 am, rather, reflecting in the context of the actual situation that faces us now. The cos( of private religious education continues to escalate even as we struggle for tax credits to cover some of the expense. And the number of parochial and private schools continues to decrease. In this situa-tion, we must find a viable replacement for handing on Catholic faith, for helping our young people to grow up in that faith. Both in the schools that remain and in new religious education programs, the role of competent, enthu-siastic lay people continues to grow in importance. And this brings us to our next trend. 6. The Growing Vocation of the Lay Person We need to broaden our understanding and usage of the word "vocation." 182/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 One Often hears the worried question: "Do you think we'll have enough voca-tions?" The question clearly limits the concern to priestly and religious voca-tions. In breaking out of this past narrow understanding, we need to help others to see that living a serious faith life involves for everyone a vocation to service in the Church. It is not only priests and religious who have a vocation. Again, the lay vocation itself can be viewed too narrowly, as Archbishop Bernardin has cautioned: "Sometimes the impression is given that if a lay person wishes to become involved in the Church's mission, he or she must always be specially trained to become, in effect, a kind of professional within the Church. This view of lay ministry, I believe, is too narrow.''~ As a broader sense of vocation develops and spreads, I think we will never know exactly how many vocations (in the narrower sense) are "enough." But we will cooperate much more in all sorts of Christian ministries--and so we will feel much less shorthanded. Attitudinal changes, however, among some clergy especially, and among some lay people, too, are needed before that older limited view of vocation is transformed into a vision of great collabora-tion on all levels of the Church. Both the need for and the supply of well-educated, committed lay men and women continue to grow. More and more lay men and women are needed both to share and to implement the religious vision that must shape the curriculum of our Catholic schools, as well as to exercise other ministries in parishes and dioceses. A growing number of competent people are available for all these posts. And, increasingly, they are men and women who are hungry for an adult, inspiring and integrating spirituality. If these people are not to be forced to search for this spirituality even outside the Church, we must find ways of responding to this hunger. And this assistance must be largely centered in the parish. In no way does this exclude the use of special spiritual centers, retreat houses, or programs that are outside the boundaries of the parish. But these mhst always be complemented by a lived sensE, within the parish, of the presence of spiritual growth and challenge manifested in things like the quality of homilies, small discussion groups and a strongly collaborative response to the missionary needs both within and beyond the parish. Dolores Leckey, executive director of the U.S. Bishops' Secretariat for the Laity, lists among the primary needs of the laity: "a place to tell the truth, the experience of being listened to with respect, a chance to minister in ecclesial or designated ministry, and affirmation of the secular lay vocation and support of that vocation through theological education and in-depth spiritual formation." She sees these needs calling forth three needed attitudes in the ordained priest: com-mitment and community, interdependence in ministry, and willingness as opposed to willfulness.~4 For many of these lay men and women, the fundamental vocation to which they are called is the noble and glorious one of raising a good Christian family. I have written before on the precarious state of the family and the challenges with which this situation confronts us.~ Without repeating all those A God for a Dark Journey / 11t3 points again, my concern here is simply to face and restate the need for holy, self-sacrificing men and women to give themselves to raising a family. In a culture tending more to self-centered comfort and convenience, this ideal of raising a family tends to lose some of its glow. In fact, how many young people, once they finally decide to marry, actually plan on having a family? It is hard, though, to know how pervasive this attitudinal-shift away from raising a family really is. The vocation of a mother and father, with its own unique suffering and sacrifice, ought never seem "ordinary." It is a great, glorious vocation, and one vitally essential to the future of the Church and of the human race. Talented and dedicated young men and women must be helped to see that raising a family is truly a "vocation" in the Church. A theology and spirituality of the family must continue to be developed for the contemporary world and Church. Only with continuing reflection and careful cooperation on the part of husband' and wife can their raising of a family become integrated with, and be a powerful, creative means for furthering, their own profession and sense of self-worth. And the legitimate, essential struggle for women's rights .must not be allowed to create a condescending scorn for the women whose life, for so many years, is spent at home raising a fa'mily. To co-create with God, and daily to reveal God's love to children, is an exalted vocation--one that gives profound joy and binds parents in deeper love through sacrifice. 7. Public Witness to a Gospel Spirituality Which Prescinds from All Political Ideology The Church has been taking more and more stands on social questions over the past three years. A quick review of the weekly issues of Origins would show how often the National Conference "of Catholic Bishops has testified before various congressional committees over this same period. Some names of church men and women have almost become household words on various social issues, in this country and beyond. Nuclear disarmament, international concern for human rights, aid to El Salvador, an anti-abortion amendment, ~nd the abolition of the death penalty are but a few of the issues that have drawn public statements from various bodies within the Church. I would guess that, as the Church's social consciousness continues to grow, there will be need in the future for even more public stands. There is a serious danger here, though, something that could corrupt the Church's whole approach to social issues, both in this country and throughout the world. Some of the stands that the Church is taking and will be called upon to take may well coincide with the stands of different political ideologies and parties, whether Marxist or capitalist, Democratic or Republican. But the Church's stands must always clearly be and be seen to be conclusions of a gospel spirituality which prescinds from any and all political ideologies as such. One can, these days, hear someone speak strongly for international human rights or for nuclear disarmament, or for any other social issue, but 184 ] Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 who does so in such a way as to become clearly involved with a specific political ideology. When people hear such talk, they often, and quite reason-ably, wonder how a speaker of another political view would address the same topic. When the speaker's viewpoints are given in such a partisan manner, any gospel vision, if expressed at all, simply has to lose much of its force. And so the gospel witness is blunted for the listener. A specific political orientation of the speaker can, therefore, distract from the power of a position which he or she sincerely intends to incarnate gospel spirituality. To be identified too closely with a political ideology, rather than to be and act as a person of the Gospel, distracts people from what can be the power of various public stands of the Church. To be ready to take such stands requires that the individuals involved in these issues continue to take the means necessary to grow in and live more profoundly a gospel spirituality. In its first version of the pastoral letter on peace and war, the National Conference of Catholic Bishops claimed that "war, especially the threat of nuclear war, may well be the central problem.of our age." Within the past two years much energy and effort has resulted in a gradual development of sensitiv-ity and consensus, not 0nly on the part of the bishops, but also, though more slowly and perhaps less perceptibly, on the part of the Catholic faithful. How extensive this consensus will become, and whether it will prevent a serious division among the faithful at the publication of the final version of the pastoral letter, perhaps this spring, are hard to predict. But the different titles of the first two versions of the pastoral letter do manifest some of this devel- ¯ opment: "God's Hope in a Time of Fear" becomes "The Challenge of Peace~ God's Promise and Our Response." Some commentators have seen the first version as inviting Catholic theologians to develop a true theology of peace, and the second version, in response to an avalanche of helpful criticism, as an actual contribution to such a theology. Joseph O'Hare's words seem very sound and sensible: "In the end, the process may prove more important than the document it produces."16 The dialogue, debate and honest confrontation of different positions, at times quite heated, seem a work of the Spirit painfully forming a clarity and consensus that can challenge not only the consciences of Catholics, but also the difficult decisions of those responsible for the peace policies of our country. This complicated issue of the use and even possession of nuclear weapons must be both carefully scrutinized and evaluated, ultimately, in terms of an explicitly gospel vision of reality. The bishops must speak, and must be seen to speak, from a different vision than those who simply work within "liberal" or "conservative" ideologies or categories. The seriousness of the issue, which may be honestly summarized as the very survival of the human race, deserves the most careful s~arching out and testing of consensus within the American Catholic community. It must be a consensus based on our richest moral consciousness. To settle for any minimal, least-common-denominator position would be to default on the spiritual leadership that is required of the bishops A God for a Dark Journey by their position in our faith community. In many different ways we can be instructed by this process. It can teach the bishops, and the rest of us as well, about appropriate ways of reading and facilitating the Spirit's formation of a faith-consensus within our community. It can instruct us about what shall have to go ihto the future meaning of an internationally accountable, authentic patriotism. It can help us learn expe-rientially about the essentially important matter of unity and division within the American Catholic Church in the face of a great public issue which is moral as well as utterly pOlitical. Religion, and not just moral perspectives, shall have to be part of what we are taught. A profound and comprehensive peace, which God's love as revealed in a crucified Son can bring to human hearts, is what alone makes possible genuine conversion and love within the whole human family. This peace of God is the heart of the matter. And Jesus is God's victorious promise of this peace. Iksides this crucial issue of peace and war, there are other aspects of our concern for justice to be mentioned here. As we continue to increase our concern for justice, there can be a tendency to become too narrow in vision and even to exaggerate the justice issue--even though it very rightly continues to grow in importance. And again, lest 1 be misunderstood here, let me reassert that I do realize how very far many of us have to go in developing a true sense of justice, letting it influence the dedication of our Christian lives,t7 However, as can happen with almost any issue, we can so stress orthopraxis that our concern becomes chiefly the need for immediate action on behalf of social justice rather than with developing a vision which can enlighten and invigorate all the works of the Church, and not simply her social works. For example, in the work of a professional in higher education, besides direct social service when this is possible, there are many other means for inculcating in students attitudes for service and long-range social change. Professors who do not manipulate or dominate, but who serve their students by staying alive to their subject, who keep their classes well prepared and challenging, are very directly promoting justice. A view which would suggest that direct social service is the best, if not the only way that higher education can serve God's justice in this world, would seem a far too narrow, and therefore false, position on what is involved in the "integral promotion of justice." A similar exaggeration of the justice issue can overlook the spirituality that is needed to give force to any social concern. Though most of us still have a long way to go. in sensitizing our hearts to God's call for justice, I wonder whether, for some who have decidedly moved their center of gravity in the direction of their own social involvement, the challenge now is to find and maintain a viable spirituality within the new central thrust of their lives. A flurry of social work is not enough. Christian commitment to the works of justice must spring from a profound sense of God's love always at work and most dramatically promised in Jesus' Calvary experience of dying into a full- 11~6 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 ness of life and love. Among religious, an extreme tendency can yield to the temptation of settling for what Johannes Metz has called the political dimension of each of the vows, without a struggle on the part of the religious to integrate the mystical with the political dimension so as to develop an organic life of con-cerned service.~s The struggle for justice can also become unfocused and lose its gospel foundation if it forgets the mutual interaction between those internal, individ-ual, more personal dimensions and the external, social dimensions in our human world. This struggle for justice must always involve the careful balance and interplay between the evangelization of individual hearts and the forma-tion of a just-world society. Concerns about stealing, cheating, abortion and sexual immorality must always be carefully related to concerns of international human rights, nuclear disarmament, politics and economic justice. Some indi-viduals, some religious communities and other Church groups who are labor-ing nationally and internationally for justice and liberation, must be careful lest they seem caught up in liberal causes for the day which claim to pursue a systemic social justice without enough concern for the conversion and sanctifi-cation of individual hearts. A just society will always require more than any mere political and economic system. The justice and liberation we are con-cerned with here is Of God. It is God's sanctification and liberation of human hearts in Jesus.~9 But this is a liberation that can only be incarnated in our world through humanly cooperative analysis, planning and action. The sense and grace of its being God's work through us can never become empty theory, but must always throb in the veins of the apostle for justice. Liberation ~heology must always be energized by a spirituality of liberation?° This difficulty of keeping the ihdividual and the social, the internal and the external in proper balance runs deep in the modern mind. The issue is too extensive to be treated here and will surely not be changed overnight. But it needs urgent, serious attention. In a world overly interpreted by scientism there is, of course, little or nothing beyond the physical. Metaphysics has fallen on tough times. What you see is not only what you get, but it is all there is, in this modern view. This development of modernity has a long philosophical history reaching back at least to the sixteenth century, and developing through the Enlightenment. It is an issue of huge proportions,.far beyond any possibility of more than mention here. But it should not surprise us that this issue insinuates its way into our struggle to understand and to integrate "that justice without which faith is incomplete," that justice which .demands not only social action but moral conversion of soul. 8. Brldgebuilders Besides a growing need for prophets in the Church today, there is an equally great need for bridgebuilders. The pioneering prophet always calls and A God for a Dark Journey / 187 leads a people into the future. The builder of bridges is needed to keep the body of the people together and not let them be separated. In many areas polariza-tion is not as severe, or at least it is not so obvious as it used to be. But on all levels of the Church there is need to bring people from different viewpoints together in a genuine unity beneath and in and through their differences. The work of the bridgebuilder is creatiVe, patient--and very difficult. It is creativity that prevents community from capitulating to the least common de-nominator. In the face of certain impasses the ingenuity of an engineering feat is called for to bridge the gulf. Bridgebuilding is also messy work: you have to be willing to get dirty. To dive underwater and survey the depths, to lay foun-dations in muddy ground and to set steel and cement are never easy. It is very patient work, work that stretches a person. One must be able to live on both shores, to recognize the gulf of difference and to have a genuine desire and hope for bridging that gulf of difference. The builder of bridges learns to listen compassionately, though not uncritically, to the good of both sides and doesn't become trapped on only one side. Bishop Cummins of Oakland, when talking about the changing relations between bishops and theologians, called his brother bishops to "be wise enough to consult not just those theologians with whom we are intellectually comfortable, but even a wider group so that we will have the sense of the broader reflection and experience of the community.TM Bridgebuilding is a priestly work in imitation of Jesus who is the great high priest, Pontifex (which means a bridgemaker). It is a priestly work we can all practice. Just as Jesus' priestly bridgebuilding is best revealed in his salvific suffering and dying on Calvary, so our own bridgebuilding ministry will involve a passion of patient suffering which will always be creative for unity. Today, we all need to develop some of this creative, paschal charism of bridge-building, if we are not to settle, on all levels of the world andthe Church, for a shallow, easily disrupted communion of minds and hearts. 9. Ongoing Monastic Renewal Three years ago, in surveying the decade of the seventies, I mentioned the matter of renewal in monasticism.22 During this past year, the issue has been brought home to me again with even an intensity. Some members of monastic communities obviously feel it is time for an honest, thorough evaluation of all the experimentation of the last fifteen years. They sense that communities too easily presume the validity of too much of that experimentation. Though this issue is somewhat removed from my personal experience, I sense in certain voices, not just a traditionalist tendency, but a healthy call for evaluation before monastic communities move on much further with planning for the future. In the midst of the worthwhile development which recent experimentation has brought, are there some changes that have weakened rather than strengthened the monastic experience of God in the Church? How, for example, do the sisters of a renewed contemplative community resolve their growing unease about whether they have lost too much of silence in their 11~1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 life together? How does a monastic community recognize and reject the newer versions of a tendency to rigidity, legalism, boredom, self-satisfied compla-cency- signs always antithetical to the Gospel~3 These questions, and there are many others that monastic communities could formulate far better than I, are not easy questions. But they could provoke stimulating, life-giving evaluation. In the long history of monasticism, it has always been a complicated matter to determine the appropriate "works" of a community. Merton has reminded the monastic community that it "does not exist for the sake of any apostolic or educational work, even as a secondary end. The works of the monk are not justified by their external results but only by their relevance to his monastic life alone with God.TM Louis Dupr~, in a powerful chapter on "The Poverty of God," while commenting on the monastic life-style, says that "the monk avoids looking ridiculous by refusing to take himself or his work more seriously than they deserve. Measuring them against the backdrop of eternity he rightly judges human concerns to be less than all-significant."~5 The traditional "work" of hospitality continues to bring many people into touch with the powerful monastic witness and source of faith in God. Perhaps it can be an extension of hospitality today to be involved in explicitly spiritual ministries, such as direction, or other temporary services which can be ren-dered to tile local civic community--often right in the monastery. Of course the details of such determinations can only be known in the light of prayerfully careful study of the spirit and writings of the founder or foundress--and by planned, scheduled evaluation. It will always be a challenge for the community members themselves to believe in the monastically apostolic style of being and to resist any inappro-priately active style of doing. We speak here of more than a rearranging of schedule or works. It is a matter of renewing an attitude and a vocation of men and women called to witness to God, our eternally faithfiil Lover, called to do this through who they are and how they live together, rather than through what they "do" and "accomplish." As some monastic communities try to evaluate the developments of recent years, they may be helped by re-reading Thomas Merton's "Memorandum on Monastic Renewal'~6 and by looking at Louis Duprr's conferences to the monks at Gethsemani,27 and a hosi of other writings on the monastic life today. And if, as some suggest, this issue requires further attention, perhaps the Association of Contemplative Sisters in this country could facilitate a prayerful evaluation. Monastic life is at the very heart of Christian faith and justice. In a secularistic world so hyperactive and quick to identify and evaluate people according to what they do and have, the joyful witness of men and women whose basic identity is to be in apostolic contemplation before God, while always difficult to maintain, becomes ever more important. 10. Developments in Religious Life New religious groups continue to appear in the Church. One meets new A God for a Dark Journey / 189 religious communities that have broken off from older, better-known congre-gations; some impasse could not be resolved and a new group was born. There are other new groups that are not offshoots of any previous congregation. Some of these groups have canonical and ecclesiastical approval; others do not--and some are not interested in such approval. There is much vigor, value, variety and novelty in all of this. All these groups are responding to some need but often in quite different ways. Some are permanently formed groups, founded in the permanent covenant of final profession. Others are bound together much more temporarily. It is important to acknowledge the valuable service rendered by these groups, when they are not dominated by an ugly reaction to a past difficult situation. Can all such groups be classified as religious life? Are there new forms of religious life appearing in all of this? How far can the traditional understanding of religious life be stretched in new directions? It is still too early for this observer to be sure about any answers to these issues. My personal conviction is that we must be careful that religious life cannot come to mean almost anything. Otherwise words lose meaning. It would seem clear that the Spirit is breathing new types of groups into the Church at this time. And it is not necessary to force all of them into the framework of religious life. 1 myself incline to think that religious life will continue to be a life of total consecration to God, specified in terms of celibacy, poverty and obe-dience, lived in community,28 and with explicit ecclesiastical approval. In the light of this understanding, though there can be much renewal of forms of religious life, there probably are not any wholly new forms. But there are, and will continue to be, new forms of communities that are not formally part of religious life. And this, rather than being a problem, should be a welcome addition to ways of serving in the Church. To be mutually understanding and to serve together in building that Kingdom of Jesus' Father in human hearts, as it grew and was revealed in Jesus' own heart--this is the most important gift to receive from God and to share with each other until time and experience give us greater clarity about this issue.29 Another development in religious life, and for various reasons a cause of sadness and discouragement for some, is the continuing departure of men and women both before and after final profession. As I mentioned in my last article,30 evidence seems to support the belief that the number of departures which decreased in the end of the seventies is now picking up again in the eighties. Such a phenomenon needs to be pondered. It can contain a call to keep renewing the lived witness of religious life. But, it seems to me, here we have a phenomenon different from the sixties and early seventies. People realize more and more what the truth and demands are of a religious vocation ¯ in the world today. The immediate reason for many who leave seems to be related to celibacy. Fo~ them, celibacy does not seem right and good, if pos-sible at all. But to settle for this as a final, adequate explanation seems too simple. Investigation and reflection upon many of these cases reveal, for instance, that the observance of religious poverty had stopped and at least the "1911 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 attitude, if not the execution, of religious obedience of mission had also weak-ened or even stopped before celibacy also lost its gift quality and began to seem a burden too heavy to bear any more. Though celibacy may be the more immediate and obvious final crisis, it cannot be separated from religious pov-erty and obedience, both of which buttress and give expression to the interper-sonal, unique companionship with God which, at its core, is what celibacy is all about. 11. Openness to New Non-Western Ways of Seeing Reality Over this past year, missionaries have brought to my attention this final trend. As the Church continues to grow in Africa, Japan, India, and other parts of the Near and Far East, the faith of our universal or '~world" Church3~ can be enriched by openness to the very different ways of perceiving reality in these countries. But it wil! .~'¢quire a flexibility that is not always easy for us. My-own liinited experience and reading in this area prevent, me now from writing about the obviously vast and important implications of this openness for our Christian future. But I feel the truth of the witness of 0these missionaries at least to want to mention the matter here--with the hope that both reader and writer will ponder this further over the coming year. Conclusion As I conclude this fourth article on currents in American spirituality, two reflections come to mind. They may be stated very briefly. They are both, I think, very obvious. And very important. First, 1 think it is necessary, in a rapidly shifting, changing world and in a Church whose future we are called upon to choose in the Spirit, that an informed believer have a sense of con-temporary spiritual trends and issues. Second, it is necessary to recognize and to choose, again and again, precisely within these shifting, changing trends of our time, the one perennial truth and beauty of God's revelation in Jesus. This is the great and difficult, but exciting task of the believer. A God for a dark journey. The Letter to the Hebrews speaks to the stead-fast center of the enterprise: "Christ yesterday, today and the same forever.'~2 And Hopkins catches splendidly the variety and difference of that journey, common to us all, our journey into God: "Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not his, to the Father, through the features of men's faces,m3 A God for a Dark Journey ] 191 NOTES WTrends and Issues in a Secularizing World," March/April 1982, pp. 186-206. 2Ibid., pp. 186-187. 3The Deeper Life, Louis Dupr6 (Crossroad: New York, 1981). 41bid., p. 46. 5Mt 6:18. 6Concern For the Church, Theological Investigations XX, Karl Rahner, tr. Edward Quinn (Crossroad: New York, 1981), p. 149. 7Avery Dulles, S.J. is always a helpful and carefully creative guide in this whole question of the Church. See his Models of the Church (Image: New York, 1978) and his most recent book, A Church to Believe In (Crossroad: New York, 1982). 8"Trends of 1980: Some Themes and a Few Specifics," Review for Religious, March 1981, pp. 238-239. 9"The Past Decade," Review for Religious, March 1980, pp. 200-201. ~°"The Dimensions of Care," Origins, Jan. 28, 1982, pp. 520-524. ~tTad Guzie, The Book of Sacramental Basics (Paulist: New York, 1981), p. 85. ~2Ibid., pp. 97-103. ~3"The Future of Church and Ministry," Origins. May 6, 1982, p. 750. ~4"What the Laity Need," Origins, May 20, 1982, pp. 9-16, esp. 14. ~See art. cir., Review for Religious, March/April, 1982. pp. 202-203. ~6America, November 13, 1982, p. 284. Since we are in the midst of a process with regard to the pastoral letter of the bishops on Peace and War, it may be helpful to the reader to know that these remarks of mine were written in December, 1982. ~TArt. cit., Review for Religious, March 1980, pp. 201-202. 18Johannes B. Metz, Followers of Christ (Paulist: New York, 1978) esp. pp. 41-44. ~gThe Social Teaching of John Paul II, No. 4 "The Theme of Liberation," presented by Rev. Roger Heckel, S.J:, Pontifical Commission on Justice and Peace, Vatican City, 1980, esp. pp. 16-17. Heckel shows that John Paul 11 does not use the word liberation very much, and when he does God and Christ are the subject and content of the liberation. ~°Art. cir., Review for Religious, March/April, 1982, pp. 193-194. 2~"The Chahging Relations Between Bishops and Theologians," Origins, June 17, 1982, p. 70. 2ZArt. cir., Review for Religious, March 1980, pp. 197-198. ~See John C. Futrell, S.J., "The Monk and the Apostle," Review for Religious, May/June, 1982, p. 409. 2~Thomas Merton, The Monastic Journey, ed. Br. Patrick Hart, (Image: New York, 1978), p. 213. ZSDupr~, op. cit., p. 43. 26Merton, op. tit., pp. 213-217. ~TDupr~, op. cir. ~sSee art. eit., Review for Religious, March/April 1982, pp. 199-201, and James T. Burtchaell, "The Future of Our Fellowship," Commonweal, June 18, 1982. pp. 364-368. ~See Richard A. Hill, S.J., "The Community and the Option of Non-Canonical Status," Review for Religious, July/August 1982, pp. 542-550. The author treats the issues involved in a congrega-tion's moving to non-canonical status. ~°Art. Cir., Review for Religious. March/April 1982, p. 200. 3~1bid., p. 195. ~Heb 13:8. ~From the sonnet, "As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame." Conversion and Conflict John Navone, S.J. Father Navone writes of the pres,~nt article that it "develops the idea of the previous article ['Conversion Expres~d in Dialogue and Story.' Sept/Oct, 1982] in terms of the Synoptics' conflict stories and their implicit meaning for Christian conversion." Father continues to teach at the Gregorian University, where he also resides: Piazza della Pilotta, 4:00187 Roma. Italy. The New Testament is an external expression of the internal reality of Christian conversion. It brings to expression the mystery of God as a history of transforming love in Jesus Christ and in his community of faith: "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). The "conflict stories" of the New Testament imply that God's word of love will encounter human resistance.~ The adversaries of Jesus give expression to the various forms that human resistance takes to the grace and demand of God for our truest and fullest life in his love. His adversaries represent the mind-sets and heart-sets that oppose the event and the process of Christian conversion-- the personal and social transformation that results from the surrender of oneself to the love that is God. The synoptic gospels contain a number of episodes prior to the passion narrative in which there is a verbal exchange between Jesus and his contem-poraries on some crucial issue, exchanges in which Jesus and the other parties are adversaries. In these episodes, the crucial issue generally arises because of some action of Jesus, or of his disciples, which is unacceptable to the other parties. Some-times they arise because Jesus (or someone else) asks a question which pro-vokes conflict? There are three parts to the formal structure of these "conflict stories": 1) an introductory narrative: 2) the opponent's question or attack; and 3) Jesus' reply--the so-called "dominical saying." 192 Conversion and Conflict / "19:3 These stories are always preceded by some narrative. This narrative func-tions not only as a transitional link with what has preceded~ but it also estab-lishes the setting in such a way that the reader is prepared for the inevitable conflict. Thus the narrative stages a polarity or tension, with speaking and acting persons as the poles of the tension. Except in Mk 3: I-5, the conflict stories begin with a question or accusation that is usually directed toward Jesus or his disciples. In two instances, however, the questions begin from Jesus himself (Mr 22:41-46 and Lk 14:1-6). At times the silence of Jesus' opponent (as in Mk 3:2) can have the significance of a statement in the ensuing dialogue of question and answer. All materials of the conflict story are organized to stress Jesus' reply--the dominical saying--which brings the dialogue to a close. This pronouncement of Jesus has some bearing on an aspect of Christian belief or conduct. It implies the need of understanding, and it explains both the grace and the demand of God's word of love in Jesus Christ that calls for human transforma-tion in the process of Christian conversion. These conflict stories were formulated at various stages in the process of formation of the gospels, and in diverse circumstances.3 Some were shaped within the living context of the early Church's apologetical concerns in response to Jewish criticism. Others were shaped in the context of the catechet-ical concerns of the Church in its response to the need of teaching converts and regulating" the life of the believing community. Central to all conflict stories, however, is their focus on the person of Jesus, on his words, attitudes and actions. Christian conversion always has as its object the interpersonal life of Jesus Christ: his relationships to God, and his relationships to fellow-humans--his relationships to divine and human per-sons. This interpersonal life of Christ is the prime analogate for the Christian community's experience, understanding and judgment of its own interpersonal relationships with divine and human persons. ThE object of Christian conversion, then, is not just a set of truths, nor an ethical code. It is participation in the interpersonal life of Jesus Christ as this is itself rooted in receiving and giving the Father's love, in knowing and being known. The gospels' conflict stories imply the difficulty with which the mystery of God becomes a history of love in the actual life-stories of Jesus and of his followers. These stories imply that Christian conversion, both as event and as process of maturation, must have a dimension of conflict at both the intra-and interpersonal levels. "Not my will but thine be done" itself tells of a conflict relationship with the self that is always to be transcended in the individual's response to the grace and demand of the serf-giving love that is God. God's coming into our lives creates the transforming tension between his grace and its demand for an ever-greater selflessness which brings about a lasting communion with God's own self--and thereby with one another among his followers. Jesus Christ's "way of the cross" represents the "costly 194 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 love" of divine and of human self-giving and self-investment. Christian conversion, then, is the new life which derives from our accepting for ourselves God's own life of boundless love for all. The Cross expresses the suffering, that the acceptance of boundless love must entail--even for the sinless Son of God. It makes manifest that our acceptance of this love will inevitably place us in a conflictual relationship with others: If the world hates you. remember that it hated me before you. If you belonged to the world. the world would love you as its own: but because you do not belong to the world. because my choice withdrew you from the world. therefore the world hates you. Remember the words I said to you: A servant is not greater than his master. if they persecuted me. they will persecute you too . . . (Jn 16:18-20). If the conflict stories of the gospels are an expression of the interpersonal life of Jesus Christ, of his receiving and giving his Father's love for the trans-formation of all, they imply also that Christian conversion, our participation in his life, must inevitably entail conflict at both the intra- and interpersonal levels. At both levels it must entail an ever deeper penetration into the mystery of that love which itself embraces our lives, and constitutes the term towards which our whole beings strive. The God whose word of love is addressed to us in the conflict stories gives us the ability to make that word our own by the process of Christian conver-sion. 4 Not only do we hear Jesus' story, but we tell the same story in our own lives, making his struggle to overcome the unlove of the human heart our own. The Church tells these conflict stories of its Lord as an expression of the life which derives from his love. His struggle reveals the way that God's ' kingdom comes to us. Consequently, we might well question our tendency to believe that conflict at the intra- and interpersonal levels of Christian life is always an indication that something is wrong. Rather, it would seem we might be more concerned about the authenticity of a Christian commitment which did not encounter resistance at both these levels. The way of the cross is the way of inexhaustible and unquenchable love. It enables us to live in the tension and conflict that this love demands if we are to attain to the fullness of life in the kingdom of God. These conflict stories must not be read outside the context of the Good News. This is what fills the heart with joy and enables self-sacrifice to be wholehearted. Even though these stories imply the demand of a God who challenges everything that is in us, they are expressions at the same time of the great Good News that God is Love and has given us his life and love in Jesus Christ and in his Spirit. Even though these stories imply all the conflict, tension, suffering and Conversion and Conflict / 195 renunciation that is inherent in living as Christians, they, too, belong to the Good News, because what is primary in them and in it is the joy taken in the goodness of the life and love that God has given us: "Jesus. who, for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame" (Heb 12:2).5 The conflict-dimension of Christian conversion and its way of the cross is founded on the joy that is taken in the Supreme Good, in the Boundless Love that we know and proclaim to be the Father of Jesus Christ. Through the gift of the Spirit. we are enabled to rejoice in this Love and its challenges. In this context we know that where there is love, there is also struggle. The crucified and risen One reveals that Love is not indifferenl to human unlove, but struggles to overcome it in the conflictual activity of Love's self-giving. NOTES ~Other terms have been used to designate the material which we have called here "conflict stories." The term Streitgesprhche (controversy dialogues) was used by Martin AIbertz and Rudolf Bultmann. Martin Dibelius used Paradigmen. Vincent Taylor used pronouncement stories. Sometimes controvers.v stories was used in English as a general designation. -'The following conflict stories are those designated by such as Arland J. Hultgren in Jesus and His Adversaries (Minneapoilis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1979), pp. 26-27: I. There are eleven conflict stories in Mark. usually with parallels in Matthew and Luke: 2: 1-12: The Healing of the Paralytic (Mr 9:1-8: Lk 5:17-26). 2:15-17: Eating with Tax Collectors and Sinners (Mr 9:10-13: Lk 5:29b-32). 2:18-22: The Question About Fasting (Mt 9:14-15: Lk 5:33-35). 2:23-28: Plucking Grain on the Sabbath (Mr 12:1-8: Lk 6:1-5). 3: I- 5: Healing on the Sabbath (Mt 12:9-13: Lk 6:6-10). 3:22-30: The Beelzebul Controversy (Mt 12:22~32: Lk 11:14-23). 7: I- 8: The Tradition of the Elders (Mt 15:1-9). 10: 2- 9: On Divorce IMt 19:3-9). 11:27-33: The Question About Authority (Mt 21:23-27: Lk 20:1-8). 12:13-17: Paying Taxes to Caesar (Mt 22:15-22: Lk 20:20-26). 12:18-27: On the Resurrection (Mr 22:23-33: Lk 20:27-40). 2. There are two conflict stories in the special Lucan material." 13:10-17: Healing the Crippled Woman on the Sabbath. 14: 1- 6: Healing the Man with Dropsy on the Sabbath. 3. There are three conflict stories in Matthew based in part on Marcan and Q materials: 12:38--42: The Refusal of a Sign (in part from Mk 8:11-12 and Q: Lk 11:29-32). 22:34-40: The Double Commandment of Love (in part from Mk 12:38-42 and Q: Lk 10:25-28), 22:41-46: The Question ,~bout David's Son (in part from Mk 12:35-37). 4. There is 1 co~Tflict story in Luke based in part on Marcan material." 7:36-50: The Sinful Woman at Simon's House (in part from Mk 14:3-9). 5. There is I conflict story in Q." Mt 12:22-32: Lk 11:14-23: The Beelzebul Controversy (see Mk 3:22-30). JConflict stories, obviously, are but one way for the evangelists to express Jesus' struggle. The story of the demoniac in the Capernaum synagogue, for example, expresses the demons' sense that in Jesus they have met the victor in the cosmic conflict between good and evil: "You have 196 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 come to destroy us, haven't you?" (Mk 1:24). '~See the treatment of Christian conversion in the eighth chapter of my book. co-authored with Thomas Cooper, Tellers qf the Word: Nine Moments in the Theology of Story (New York: I_e Jacq Publishers. 1981). SThe incapacity to enjoy seems to be connected wth the incapacity to love. Some do not enjoy anything enough to be able to forget about themselves. The first thing we read about God in the Bible is that he made something and thought it was good. St. Thomas writes of the love of benevolence or friendship that by it the person who loves desires for the person loved the same goods that he desires for himse~f"as for another se~f.'" And so the lover desires to give to the beloved the same things that have been the objects of his own love and enjoyment. See, e.g., ST. I-II, q. 27, a. 3. Prayer of Personal Reminiscence: Sharing One's Memories With Christ by David J. Hassel, S.J. Price: $.60 per copy, plus postage Add ress: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The Service of Religious Authority: Reflections on Government in the Revision of Constitutions Mary IJnscott, S.N.D. Sister Mary, formerly Superior General of the Sisters of Notre Dame of Namur (1969-1978), presently works at the Sacred Congregation for ReLigious and Secular Institutes in the area of constitutions and general chapters of sisters. She resides at her motherhouse: Suore di Nostra Signora di Namur: Largo Berchet, 4; 00152 Roma, Italy. Experience in recent years strongly suggests that religious authority, like most other kinds, is in a moment of crisis, A justifiable but over-vigorous reaction to some previous styles of operation has often been the immediate occasion of this. Other causes, however, have also contributed to the situation: the emergence of a strong culture-consciousness in certain areas; the introduc-tion of new processes and patterns whether offered postively, negatively, or simply as a change from what existed before; the need to make values and structures correspond more evidently; the evolution of ideas about religious life itself and about the Church; and even the very fact of having lived since the late 1960's in experimental conditions which often did not provide clearly for the exercise of authority. The crisis is something which ultimately affects fundamental values in religious life: identity, apostolic efficacy, the nature and importance of consecration, the future form of religious life as such. Because of its potentially serious consequences, the crisis cannot be ignored. In fact, many institutes are facing it very honestly. Responses vary. A few follow the ostrich in seeming to assume that if no attention is paid to it, the situation will disappear of its own accord. Some tend to extremes: a holding to the status quo as if nothing had happened, or a leap into a pattern which involves the virtual dissipation, or at least the non-exercise, of any real authority. Some 197 "19~1 / Review for Religious, .March-April, 1983 strive to keep the reality of ,authority but clothe it in a different language, often that of business management or politics. Some keep the concept in words but virtually shift the content to something else: usually participation, communica-tion, consensus or leadership. None of these responses meets the situation but each indicates the realization that there is a situation to be faced. More recent lines of development show a growing awareness of the need to relate religious authority to religious obedience, and both to the ecclesial dimension of consecrated life. Sisters are realizing that the authority question can only be handled adequately on the level of faith and of relation to the Church, and they are trying to find expressions which will simultaneously r~flect faith, foster life and values, meet present realities, and be in accord both with the Church's common law and with the best traditions of their institute. One such line of development is based on a better appreciation Of the service rendered by authority. Current attempts to express this are frequently contradictory because the service of authority is taken to mean either authority and service or authority as service and the conclusions drawn are not wholly consistent with either one or the other. But if authority of itself is service--that is, if by the fact of being itself it serves religious life necessarily and fruitfully-- we have a line with rich possibilities. It is some of these lines which 1 hope to explore. Before doing so, I think that a few clarifications are in order. First, I will not be speaking about authority in general but only about religious authority: the authority properly exercised in a religious congregation because of its recognition by the Church. Secondly, since without it the religious congregation would not exist as such, I will be assuming that the reality of religious authority itself is not in question but that much of the crisis lies in the evolution of structures and the search for suitable styles of exercise. Thirdly, I will restrict my reflection to the experience of congregations of sisters of apostolic life. This is partly because it is in them that questions regarding authority and government are sharply presented, and partly because my own experience is extensively with them and my reflections are largely conditioned by their sharing. The reflections fall into three main phases--a look at religious authority itself as it is seen in Jesus, in the Church and in religious institutes; then the service of authority in religious government; and finally some of the strengths, confusions and questions in the service of authority at present. I. The Service of Religious Authority 1.1 In Jesus Probably the most familiar scene associated with the authority of Jesus is the one at the end of St. Matthew's gospel (Mt 28:19-20).__.M_a.~y Of Magdala and the other Mary have been mandated, first by the angel at the tomb (28:7) and then by the risen Lord himself (28:10) to tell the disciples, "my brothers," to go to Galilee. It is a solemn convocation to the "mountain where Jesus arranged to meet them." There, before the adoration of some and the hesitation of others, Jesus makes his last, confident claim, gives his last The Service of Religious Authority / 199 command, and pledges his last promise in a setting which, for Matthew, recalls the old law of Sinai and the new law of the beatitudes. The claim is absolute-- "All authority in heaven and on earth is given to me" (Mt 28:19), and, to make this effective, he promises to be with them until the end of time (Mt 28:20). Therefore, in the work of evangelization--preaching, baptizing, teaching, carrying God's word everywhere and to all the ages--the inner strength, impulse and power are always that of Christ himself, to whom all authority is given. To the disciples, this can hardly have been surprising. Many knew Jesus as one who had authority and who exercised it. He spoke with authority and not as the scribes and pharisees (Mt 7:28-29): he interpreted the law on no authority but his own (Mt 5:21-22 ff.); he ordered evil spirits to go forth, and they went (Mt 8:32); he commanded the winds and the seas, and they obeyed him (Mt 9:27): he had authority over sickness (Mt 8:14-15); blindness (Mt 9:29); deafness (Mk 9:7-35); dumbness (Mt 9:32-33); lameness (Mt 15:30); paralysis (Mk 2:!1); sin (Mk 2:10): and death itself (Lk 7:15). The authority he exercised in regard to the disciples was unquestioned. So also was the fact that, when he chose, he could confer on others authority similar to his own. Sometimes the authority was for a short period, as when the apostles who had rejoiced exuberantly in it during their first mission (Mk 6:7, 30) found that they no longer had it when they tried to cure the boy possessed, at the foot of Tabor (Mk 9:18). Sometimes it was promised for a longer future, as to Peter after his confession of faith (Mr 16:18): and by the lake of Tiberias it was given in a definitive way (Jn 21:15-17). Jesus was Lord and Master, Shepherd and Teacher, King, though not of this world; Lord of the Sabbath, Messiah and Son of the living God. His authority was never in doubt. According to his own testimony, however, this authority was neither assumed nor taken by acclaim, but given. Like his priesthood, it was not something that Jesus conferred upon himself or took of his own initiative (see Heb 5:4), nor was it something that he Would accept from the acclamation of delighted followers who wanted to make him King (Jn 6:15). It was, as he himself said, "given" and given by the Father. For this reason, his authority was unlike any other. Intimately connected with his person as Son and with his mission as Redeemer, it served a purpose which was the Father's business (see Jn 14:31), the "will of him who sent me" (Jn 5:30). It extended to all things in heaven and on earth. It was clearly distinct in its exercise from the authority of "the rulers of this world who lord it over their subjects" (Jn 22:25) and it was used to give life (Jn 10:10) and to heal (Mr 8:16); to teach (Mr 5:14); to save (Jn 12:47); to forgive (Mr 9:6); to sanctify (Jn I: 12); to unite (Jn 17:21); to bind and loose in heaven (Mr 18:18); to send in evangelizing mission (Mk 16:16); to found the Church (Mr 16:!8). 1.2 In the Church It is this authority, exercised for the same purpose and in the same manner, that Christ continues in his Church by his presence to the end of time. Peter's 200 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 authority was something that was given as a matter of faith: it was Christ's authority invested in him. He knew it when he said to the man at the Beautiful Gate of the Temple: "In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk" (Ac 3:7). He knew it when he helped phrase the decision of the so-called Council of Jerusalem in the words: "It has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us" (Ac 15:25). He experienced it in the inner changes of values that he had to make in order to welcome Cornelius (Ac 10:34, 42) and to break with the Judaizers at Antioch (Ga 2:i1-14). Exercising the authority of binding and loosing that Christ had uniquely given him (Mt 16:19) and confident in the Lord's prayer for him (Lk 22:32), Peter confirmed his brethren with a power which he knew was pure gift. It was at the service of Christ's mission. It depended for its efficacy on an intimate personal relation and loving obedience to the Master who had conferred it and it was exercised for Christ's purposes and in Christ's way even to union with him in martyrdom. The same characteristics marked Paul's exercise of authority. "Be imitators of me as I am of Christ" ( I Co 4:1) was his cryptic summary of his own place in relation to the Lord who was his life (Ph 1:20) and the new Christians who were his responsibility. He could appeal, and did, to the moral authority of example which can result from the quality of life, of work and of prayer in someone who is fully living his or her baptism. But he had another kind, too: a personal authority given him by God for his work among the gentiles whereby, in union with Peter, he could inspire, instruct, encourage, correct, judge, and organize the Churches he founded in order to lead them to the fullness of Christ. In using it, he made a careful distinction between what was common teaching "from the Lord," as he called it, and what was his own opinion (1 Co 7:10, 12). He was particular not to profit from it in any way personally (! Th 3:8-9 and 1 Co 9:15-18) and he was at pains to ensure that it was continued in his young Churches (2 Tm 1:6, 2:1-2). So we find him constantly instructing, correcting errors whether of doctrine in Galatia or of manner of life in Corinth, fostering order in the local Churches whether liturgical (1 Co !1) or organizational (Tt 1:15) or in the matter of interpersonal relations (Ph 4:2). When necessary, he appealed for material support from them ( I Co 16:I-4 and Rm 15:25). None of this was done without suffering, as the second letter to the Corintl~ians makes clear. The authority of Christ was only exercised in the way of Christ--through the passion and resurrection, and Paul's was a paschal experience. Religious authority in both Peter and Paul was the power of Christ given them and acting through them to fulfill the purposes for which the Church was founded. From their time onwards, the essential authority of the Church has been the same. Her task is to save, to sanctify, to unite, to r~concile to the Father, and to spread the good news of Jesus Christ concretely to all nations and to the end of time. She is, in Vatican ll's beautiful phrase, the sacrament of salvation. She therefore has to direct, judge and teach with an authority that cannot come from her members and which she cannot take upon herself but The Service of Religious Authority / 201 which is the authority of Christ whose presence she is. Her intimate union and identification with him ensure that his own authority is exercised in and through her. It does not, however, make her proof against human weakness in her style of exercising it, any more than it protected Peter from errors of judgment or Paul from the consequences of a volatile temperament. In the course of history much has occurred to condition the Church's structures in ways that needed later revision, and, on that level, she has been embroiled at times in uses and abuses of authority that had little to do with the authority of Christ. But the essential truth remains. The authority which is uniquely proper to the Church is a religious authority--that of Christ himself--to save, to make disciples, to preach the gospel, to bring all to the Father in every place and age. This is the authority which is exercised in the recognition of religious institutes by the Church as a microcosm of her own reality. It is to this authority that they relate; and it is this authority which gives them theirs. 1.3 In Religious Institutes There are several circumstances which require that the authority in a religious institute be an ecclesial or religious authority and not just one which meets functional or organizational needs. These circumstances touch the nature of religious life itself. Religious institutes do not originate of themselves nor do they continue entirely as a result of their own efforts and planning-- they are the result of a gift of God and they depend on him for both their origin and their continuance. Their basic reason for existence is the closer following of Jesus Christ from which, for them, everything else must flow and to which everything else must be related. Moreover, they are in a special way God's gift to the Church: their way of life makes good sense only on the level of faith; they witness to realities and absolutes that are neither tangible nor visible, and it is only in virtue of the Church's recognition and approval that they exist. Their purpose is that of Christ and of-the Church. Such institutes require an authority that operates on the level of faith, Christ and Church, and which corresponds to the obedience which the members have freely vowed as a value because of their closer following of the Christ whose love made him obedient even unto death. All religious foundresses have become aware of the need for this kind of authority as God continued to act in their lives. A variety of providential circumstances can bring Christians together to do good--Pax Christi, the Christian Social Volunteers, CAFOD, the Catholic Women's Guilds would be random samples, and the members of these groups need no more than the authority that results from their own self-organization in order to operate well and to achieve their purposes. Their members give to each other whatever authority is necessary for the organization to function. They are related to the Church~ not essentially or by nature of the authority which they exercise, but by the recognition of their common purpose and by the baptismal commitment 209/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 of the individual members. Some religious institutes have begun in this way. At some point in their development, however, came the realization that they were aspiring to something more than what a group of Christians, however well-intentioned, could give to itself. The desire for a total public commitment to God formally received, the need for perpetual vows, the call to follow Christ intimately and as community in his obedience, and the urge towards a particular insertion into his public mission, would be some of the reasons which would prompt a founder or foundress to ask the Church to exercise her proper authority and to recognize the institute as a religious family. The Church alone, in Christ's name, can establish a religious institute, can receive vows that are vows of religion, can give an ecclesial mission and can confer the specifically religious authority in virtue of which an institute can require its members so to live and to work as to attain the purpose for which the institute was erected. This authority, which I will call religious authority, relates particularly to consecration, vowed life, mission, formation and government. It is specific to religious institutes and it is not the same thing as organization, responsibility, power or leadership. Given by the Church, it always involves an ecclesial accountability. Moreover, religious authority is never absolute. It is invested in persons clearly designated but who for the most part may not operate alone, and it is mediated through structures, usually worked out by the foundress in dialogue with the Church, which express the charism, nature, spirit and purpose of the institute and which are approved in its constitutions. Such authority makes possible a life of vowed obedience. Moreover, it is necessary for it. It is true, of course, that the structures by which religious authority is mediated can become outdated. They can atrophy, be abused or manipulated, lose contact with reality, or fail to function. They can reach a stage when they no longer correspond to or express the values that they are meant to foster. They then need to be revised and renewed. For this process, it is of the utmost importance to bear in mind the nature, purpose and source of religious authority, since models that are suitable to other forms are not necessarily appropriate to the structures of authority in religious life. It is also necessary to remember and respect the strongly ecclesial dimension of religious authority since this makes renewal of authority structures always a matter of dialogue with the Holy See and not simply the unilateral initiative of an institute. We further need to keep clear the correlation of authority with charism and life as expressed in the institute's own sound traditions, since this gives the best practical guidance for structures which will reaffirm the institute's identity in creative fidelity, continuity and openness. Where structures are renewed in this way, authority is a fruitful reality serving the purposes for which religious life exists. It is a witness to him who came not to be served but to serve and who used fiis authority at the service of the kingdom. Where the renewal of structures somehow loses sight of the unique nature, ecclesial dimension, and The Service of Religious Authority / 203 charismatic continuity of religious authority on the level of faith, it can ultimately betray religious life itself by secularizing it, in the negative sense, in what is fundamental to it. The various crises of authority at present lie at various points between these two possibilities. II. The Service of Authority in Religious Government 2.1 The Model The model of the authority that serves is Christ, the Servant of Yahweh. He to whom all power is given in heaven and on earth is also, and without diminishing either aspect, the one who came to serve, who emptied himself, obeyed even to the cross, and gave his life as a ransom for many. Clearly in ,iesus authority and service are not in contradiction. One is not at the expense of the other and there is no tension of opposites having to be held in balance. He refers easily to both, as when he is washing Peter's feet (,in 13:14), and he never attempts to justify either. Being at once Son and Servant, he exercises both authority and service as one, and this is of the essence of his incarnation. As religious, the goal of our life is the closer following of Christ in all its fullness but there is no doubt that we have a certain difficulty with this aspect of his reality. This may be because we tend to separate the concepts of authority and service in a way which he does not. ,iesus is concerned with the reality of each; he never confuses them, but they are one in his person. We tend to oppose them and to get involved in words to describe them. For example, we often think or speak of authority as an abstraction. Its synonym is power, with connotations of lordship, mastery, might and force that move easily into oppression and violence. Its implications are efficiency and the carrying out of orders. Its contrary is subservience. We think of service as a function accom-plished or something done in view of helping another, whether this is a kindly individual act like giving a hand to an old person, or a public utility, like driving a bus, or the meeting of a national need like the operation of civil service. Its synonym is action in relation to something or action in view of something. It implies somehow being less or becoming less than another. Its contrary is command. We tend, therefore, to identify authority with the power and lordship which are the contrary of service and, because of the negative connotations which we attach to it, we try in fact to avoid its exercise in-common life, to reduce or even to eliminate it, and we forego, perhaps too simplistically, the potential which it has for holiness and for fruitfulness in the apostolate. Yet Christ had authority, used it, and did not hesitate to speak of it and to confer it. It enriched, and in no way d

Issue 41.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1982. ; REVIEW FOR REIolGIOI.IS (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 RELIGIOLIS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO, © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI,IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscfip!ion U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $1"/.00 for two years. Olher countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW Eou RELIC.IOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Sept./Oct., 1982 Volume 41 Number 5 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence wilh thc editor should be sent to REVII.:W FOR R~:I.,(;~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl Io Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuil Community; SI. Joseph's University; Cily Avenue at 541h SI.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w ~ou REL~(aOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Letters of Gratitude Robert F. Morneau In this article, Bishop Morneau is attempting an experiment, the inspiration of which he explains in his introduction. If his effort responds to a sufficient desire in the audience, he has other letters to other authors already in mind. Bishop Morneau, Auxiliary Bishop of Green Bay, has an office at Ministry to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. How many of us, well-intentioned indeed, have been moved to express gratitude for gifts received but, lacking either sufficient discipline or crowded by pressing demands, have failed to properly recognize our benefactors. I stand self-accused! Though trained in younger years to promptly send thank-you notes, distance from gracious family policies has allowed this excellent habit to diminish ,and finally disappear. This present collection of thank you letters, though long overdue, attempts to make restitution; it seeks to halt my proclivity to take things for granted. Several stimuli have served as prods in this present endeavor. One was Flannery O'Connor's The Habit of Being. l found in her collected letters a style of discourse that might be labeled "heart .talk": simple, direct and highly personal Listening in to her conversations with a variety of persons proved to be for me enriching and inspiring. A second stimulus came from a reflection of Henri Nouwen in his sensitive autobiographical piece The Genesee Diary: Meanwhile, it remains remarkable how little is said and written about letter writing as an important form of ministry. A good letter can change the day for someone in pain. can chase away feelings of resentment, can create a smile and bring jo.t, to the heart. After all, a good part of the New Testament consists of letters, and some of the most profound insights are written down in letters between people who are attracted to each other by a deep personal affection, l~tter writing is a very important art, especially for those who want to bring the good news (p. 70-71). A third and most important stimulus comes from a personal desire, i.e., a longing that others might meet some of the people who have touched my life. 641 642 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Their wisdom and gifts are too valuable to remain on shelves, collecting dust while our spirits remain famished. These jottings of mine are means to an end. They attempt to draw the reader to lovingly pursue the .full text of each author addressed. The passages 1 have included are merely hors d'oeuvres; the main course lies in the books themselves. Our libraries contain a wealth of material that boggles the mind How to be selective in such a rich mine; what gems to carry out and which to leave behind? The choice, like all choices, causes us joy in the books withdrawn, sorrow at what must be foregone because of our limitations. But then there are other seasons for further reading and future generations to ponder other authors. Three letters are contained in this series. The first is written to Julian of Norwich (b. 1342 - d. 1416). In her masterpiece of spiritual literature, Showings, Julian articulates how God revealed himself in her life. Her work is marked by clarity and depth, compassion and keen sensitivit.v, theological precision and accu-racy. The work is a deep personal witness of how the human heart is touched b), divine love. The second letter is addressed to Simone Weil. She lived from 1909 to 1943. She was a brilliant mathematician and philosopher and became deeply involved in social and political issues. Though attracted to Catholicism, she never was received into the Church. Her writings show deep sensitivity and keen intelli-gence. Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American essayist and poet, is the recipient of the third letter. He lived from 1803 to 1882. His essays are filled with poetic insight and challenging convictions. He was a gifted man who articulated well the inner journey. Hopefully, these letters will draw us into a deeper appreciation of three who journeyed before us. Hopefully, too, we will be challenged to read the primary sources. Julian Norwich, England Dear Julian, I write in gratitude for your spiritual journal which has touched the heart of the human condition in many ~vays. For those who are skeptical of private revelations, and I am one of them, your writings indicate that such workings of God are authentic when received and expressed in grace. I would like to share now some of the themes and reflections that touch my spirit. Your God! Courteous, accessible and familiar! At the heart of such a theology is your intense awareness of a God whose love is personal, a God who waits and longs for us, his people. I noted that you used the adjective "courteous" of God well over fifty .times, driving home the point of his graciousness and intense affectivity. How attractive this is: to be drawn by love to God rather than to be exposed to harsh attributes of anger and wrath. And what a struggle you had to Letters of Gratitude / 645 find the compatibility between wrath in God and his rich courtesy. Yet your sense of sin and the necessity of mercy permeate all your writings. Sin is offensive to God indeed; yet his love comes to our sinfulness in mercy and healing. The God you experienced is indeed the God of Scripture. You are now famous, you know, for calling God "mother." More specifically, you applied this term to Jesus because it is through him that we are reborn and nurtured in our new life. He carries us, as a mother does her child, in fruitful pregnancy. Based on this analogy of birth, nurturing and pregnancy, the only fitting term is "mother." Hopefully, this beautiful image will not be lost because of myopic imagination or airtight theologies. In your life of seclusion, the charge might be made in our age of high social consciousness that you lived a truncated spirituality. However, your reflections constantly call people to virtue, the practical living out in specific ways the love of God experienced in prayer. Moreover, you often use the expression "fellow-Chris-tians" which indicates that you were deeply concerned about all people. Thomas Merton once stated that he never felt so close to God and his fellow pilgrims as when he was in solitude. That paradoxical experience was also part of your life and you shared it with us well. Speaking of well-ness! A constant refrain is that "all will be well." Time and time again you drive us back to the mystery of providence and the demand for trust in the Lord. The great deed of God will be to bring about total healing of .history and creation. We stand too close to pain to realize this but you had. the faith to believe in the darkness. Indeed, faith is the ability to say "I know that you know." Yet in the darkness of our pain and frailty we want all to be well now, unable and unwilling to accept the woe that comes our way. Again you call us to a central spiritual truth: well-being or woe is not the heart of the matter, rather it is doing the will of the Father. In this lies all holiness and peace. You are a good teacher. Through the analogy of a hazelnut (183), you draw together the mysteries of being created, loved and preserved; the image of a knot (284), points out the tremendous bonding between God and ourselves; at the bottom of the sea (193) you remind us of God's continual presence; in the magnifi-cent image of the city (337) you point out how God dwells forever in our inner abode; in the analogy of the king-servant (188ff) we are present with the familiar and personal working relationship between the Creator and his creature. Add to these pictures of wounds, a purse, the ground, a gardener, a citadel, and you bring us through images into insight. These delightful mental "buckets" help us to retain a wealth of truth and theology. Romanticism gives way to realism because you lived constantly in the shadow of the cross and the experience of suffering that such discipleship entails. You longed to taste.the sufferings of Jesus, your Beloved. Thus your spiritual life was a mixture of consolation and desolation; you accepted this as your Savior did in his life. Very helpful is your description of the alternating movements of the spirits and the constant challenge to accept either with equal peace of mind. Our natural inclination is to flee pain, poverty and deprivation; grace allows us to endure and 644 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 participate in this dark side of life and thereby make great spiritual progress. Attitude of mind is crucial; grace is necessary to train us in proper disposition. The fact that we have little or no control over the alternating spirits deep within adds its own unique cross. Acceptance of this fact is a key to spiritual maturity. In what lies happiness? What is heaven? You respond to these questions with directness and simplicity. Heaven is Jesus: happiness is found in personal relation-ships with our God and his creation. Having things is replaced by being possessed by Love. Being is more significant than doing, though the latter will follow freely when love is embraced. Further, God's bliss is in us--we are his delight, his bliss, his crown. What magnificent mutuality here! God's countenance never changes, his eyes are always filled with love, his smile is graciously upon us. A God who delights in his creatures--you have repeated well the message of the psalmist. Central to our relationship with God is prayer. I really enjoyed your distinction between higher and lower contemplation (339), the former focusing on God's love and causing spiritual joy and delight, the latter gazing upon sin and keeping us in reverential fear and holy shame. What a beautiful balance, a trait that is discernible throughout your writings. Indeed, without contemplation we begin to distance ourselves from our subjective experience and thus from the Lord. Yet he remains ever close; we must be disposed to hear and respond to his slightest touch. Two last points are of great interest to me: the constant reference to divine indwelling and the seeking/finding theme. God has, in his inscrutable providence, decided to make his home within our being. From this flows an incomprehensible dignity that we are challenged to attend to. With such a guest, how reverently we should live! It is because of our blindness and insensitivity that we fail many times to live within this presence. Then too, Julian, you speak of two movements that are of great importance: seeking the Lord and finding him. For you indicate that in the finding we receive consolation and deep joy; in the seeking, the Lord is pleased and delighted. Both are good, yet what is central is the Lord's will. Thus if we are to find the Lord, then we should rejoice in such a grace. Come what may, it is recognizing and doing God's will that determines sanctity. For your lightness of touch, for your sharing of faith vision, for your modeling of prayer, for your gentle humanness, I thank you. With deep affection, RFM Happiness Contentment For until I am substantially united to him, I can never have perfect rest or true happiness, until, that is, 1 am so attached to him that there can be no created thing between my God and me. (183) For this is the loving yearning of the soul through the touch of the Holy Spirit. from the understanding which I have in this revelation: God, of your goodness give me yourself, for you are enough for me, and I can ask for nothing which is less which can pay you full worship. And if I ask anything which is less, always I am in want; but only in you do I have everything. (184) Letters of Gratitude / 845 God's Will Relativity Pleasing God ¯. and therefore we may with reverence ask from our lover all that we will, for our natural will is to have God, and God's good will is to have us, and we can never stop willing or loving until we possess him in the fullness of joy. And there we can will no more, for it is his will that we be occupied in knowing and loving until the time comes that we shall be filled full in heaven¯ (186) But the reason why it seemed to my eyes so little was because I saw it in the presence of him who is the Creator. To any soul who sees the Creator of all things, all that is created seems very little¯ (190) And this vision taught me to understand that the soul's constant search pleases God greatly¯ For it cannot do more than seek, suffer and trust. And this is accomplished in every soul, to whom it is given by the Holy Spirit. And illumination by finding is of the Spirit's special grace, when it is his will. Seeking with faith, hope and love pleases our Lord, and finding pleases the soul and fills it full of joy. And so I was taught to understand that seeking is as good as contemplating, during the time that he wishes to permit the soul to be in labor. It is God's will that we seek on until we see him, for it is through this that he will show himself to us, of his special grace, when it is his will. And he will teach a soul himself how it should bear itself when it contem-plates him, and that is the greatest honor to him and the greatest profit to the soul, and it receives most humility and other virtues, by the grace and guidance of the Holy Spirit¯ For it seems to me that the greatest honor which a soul can pay to God is simply to surrender itself to him with true confidence, whether it be seeking or contemplating. These are the two activities which can be seen in this vision: one is seeking, the other is contemplating. Seeking is common to all, and every soul can have through grace and ought to have discretion and teaching from Holy Church¯ It is God's will that we receive three things from him as gifts as we seek¯ The first is that we seek willingly and diligently without sloth, as that may be with his grace, joyfully and happily, without unreasonable depression and useless sorrow. The second is that we wait for him steadfastly, out of love for him, without grumbling and contending against him, to the end of our lives, for that will last only for a time¯ The third is that we have great trust in him, out of complete and true faith, for it is his will that we know that he will appear, suddenly and blessedly, to all his lovers. For he works in secret, and he will be perceived, and his appearing will be very sudden¯ And he wants to be trusted, for he is very accessible, familiar and courte-ous, blessed may he be. (195-196) And in this my understanding was lifted up into heaven, where I saw our Lord God as a lord in his own house, who has called all'his friends to a splendid' feast. Then I did not see him seated anywhere in his own house; but ! saw him reign in his house as a king and fill it all full of joy and mirth, gladdening and consoling his dear friends with himself, very familiarly and courteo.usly, with wonderful melody in endless love in his own fair blissful countenance, which glorious countenance fills all heaven full of the joy and Citations are reprinted from Julian of Norwich, Showings. trans, by Edmund Colledge, O.S.A., and James Walsh, S.J., © 1978 by The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State of New York, used by permission of Paulist Press. 646 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Dryness of Spirit bliss of the divinity. (203) This vision was shown to teach me to understand that some souls profit by experiencing this. to be comforted at one time, and at another to fail and to be left to themselves. God wishes us to know that he keeps us safe all the time, in sorrow and in joy; and sometimes a man is left to himself for the profit of his soul, although his sin is not always the cause. For in this time I committed no sin for which I ought to have been left to myself, for it was so sudden. Nor did I deserve these feelings of joy, but our Lord gives it freely when he wills, and sometimes he allows us to be in sorrow, and both are one love. For it is God's will that we do all in our power to preserve our consolation, for bliss lasts forevermore, and pain is passing, and will be reduced to nothing for those who will be saved. Therefore it is not God's will that when we feel pain we should pursue it in sorrow and mourning for it, but that suddenly we should pass it over, and preserve ourselves in the endless delight which is God. (205) And when we fall back into ourselves, through depression and spiritual blindness and our experience of spiritual and bodily pains, because of our frailty, it is God's will that we know that he has not forgotten us. (307) For our courteous Lord does not want his servants to despair because they fall often and grievously: for our falling does not hinder him in loving us. (245) Our Lord wants us to have true understanding, and especially in three things which belong to our prayer. The first is with whom and how our prayer originates. He reveals with whom when he says: I am the ground: and he reveals how by his goodness, because he says: First it is my will. As to the second, in what manner and how we should perform our prayers, that is that our will should be tuned, rejoicing, into the will of our Lord. And he means this when he says: I make you to wish it. As to the third; it is that we know the fruit and the end of our prayer, which is to be united and like to our Lord in all things. (250-251) II Simone Weil France Dear Simone, l write in gratitude for your essays touching on a wide range of experience: God's presence in our human condition, the plight of the worker, the meaning of affliction, the purpose of s~tudy, the struggle for justice, the future of political and economic systems. You speak from felt experience, keenly analyzing the causes and effects of human proclivities and aberrations. Provocative, inspiring, challeng-ing all, your reflections have touched many minds and hearts; your sensitive spirit has provided both theoretical and practical implications that continue to have impact on our times. Letters of Gratitude A trait that strikes me deeply is your candidness in addressing personal and collective issues. In regard to your spiritual life, you were drawn toward Catholi-cism but felt that you could not accept that stirring because in so doing you would remove yourself from large segments of the human family. While failing to see the logic of your conclusion, 1 respect your unwillingness to compromise, your com-mitment to principle. Your courage is impressive. Besides personal honesty in terms of your own life-style, you take on systems that oppress and exploit the fundamental rights of people. A deep sense of responsibility toward the common good and a powerful vision of human solidarity made you cry out wherever the dignity of people was threatened or.injured. Human respect did not paralyze you; you were willing to pay the price in your hunger and thirst for justice. A related but distinct theme is your profound insight into the philosophic patterns of means-end. The ultimate evil is to reverse the order of reality: turning means into ends (138). This principle explains so much of life. Other authors concur with your observation but from slightly different angles: C. $. Lewis warns of getting caught on Christianity (creeds, codes, cults) and' forgetting about Christ; he notes elsewhere how writers begin to focus more on how they say things rather than the truth which is the end of all discourse. Pope John Paul 11 speaks about techhology enslaving the person whenever humans fail to exercise their proper responsibility over the instruments that they have created. All in all, exploitation and manipulation are the consequences of failing to allow'the goal to govern the process. Such a failure fosters death, not life. By profession you did spend some time teaching. In writing about this most noble vocation you articulated a thesis that all study, by its very nature, is directed toward the love of God and is a preparation for that love. The inner dynamism of the process contains the power of contemplation, that human act of loving atten-tiveness that puts us into intimate contact with reality. All study is an exercisein attention; attention is a form of contemplation: contemplation is essentially a union with reality whose ultimate source is God. In faith we bglieve that all creation in some way manifests the Creator. Thus your thesis has a firm theologi-cal basis. Regardless of the discipline, be it anthropology, sociology or literature, attentiveness to the reality exposed by these studies is indirectly preparing the alert student to love of God. What joy this is for the faith-filled teacher; what a surprise to the atheist who unwittingly leads the searching student into the embrace of God. Shakespeare once wrote: "Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel." You worked in a factory and understood from experience many of the trials of human life. From the inside you struggled with need and pain, small joys and unhappy compensations. Choice, not necessity, drew you into this world. To the extent that you did not need to remain in the w~rld of wretches, possessing the necessary resources both intellectually and materially to exit at will, there was a tinge of unreality in such a choice. Not all the strings were cut. Regardless, you tasted the full range of boredom, anomie and meaninglessness that result from situations in which people are no longer dealt with as persons but are treated as objects or machines. It was from this posture that you prophetically demanded reform in 641~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 systems that impinged negatively on the hearts and dignity of people. Your words continue to challenge our generation, caught by a vast technological network that threatens our freedom and enslaves our spirits. A special influence in your life was a poem by George Herbert entitled "Love." While concentrating with great effort on the inner meaning of this distant, sensitive man's beautiful verse, you encountered the Lord. Drawn into the dialogue of the poem your heart was captured and held fast. The intimacy and indwelling articu-lated by HerbertAake us to the heart of faith: a deep personal relationship with God that provides a basis for discipleship. The struggle expressed between the invitation to be with God and one's sense of unworthiness, between resting in the Lord and being busy with one's duties and responsibilities, between allowing God to be God and trying to control the flow of lives--all these apparently were part of your existential experience. In a single short poem, crucial life issues were raised and given a resolution: to live in his presence. Eternal joy is contingent upon our individual responseto this challenge. The ways in which God touched your life were as many as the ways in which he used you to influence others. Your awareness of this sensitive process is de-scribed by the term "instrumentality." Through various persons, seen precisely as channels of grace, the Lord made his presence felt: Fr. Perrin acting as friend-counselor transmitted a sense of faith; Homer writing in The Iliad shared a scope of reality and human interaction that enriched your sense of meaning; close friends, intervening at key moments in your life, made visible divine love in word and deed. Having known the divine presence, you in turn shared, through your finely honed gifts, your interpretation of that experience. The Creator and creature in dynamic mutuality! St. Francis' prayer experienced and lived! All of us who have read your works know firsthand the power, meaning and joy of this instrumentality. Sincerely, R.F.M. Friendship Fear But the greatest blessing you have brought me is of another order. In gaining my friendship by your charity (which 1 have never met anything to equal), you have provided me with a source of the most compelling and pure inspiration that is to be found among human things. For nothing among human things has such power to keep our gaze fixed ever more intensely upon God, than friendship for the friends of God. (19) Everybody knows that really intimate conversation is only possible between two or three. As soon as there are six or seven, collective language begins to dominate. That is why it is a complete misinterpretation to apply to the Church the words "Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." Christ did not say two hundred, or fifty, or ten. He said two or three. He said precisely that he always forms the third in the intimacy of the tete-a-tete: (23) As always happens, mental confusion and passivity leave free scope to the imagination. On all hand~ one is obsessed by a representation of social life Letters of Gratitude Prayer Joy Presence Unhappiness Expression which, while differing considerably from one class to another, is always made up of m~,,steries, occult qualities, myths, idols and monsters; each one thinks that power resides mysteriously in one of the classes to which he has no access, because hardly anybody understands that it resides nowhere, so that the dominant feeling everywhere is that dizzy fear which is always brought about by loss of contact with reality. (37) The key to a Christian conception of studies is the realization that prayer consists of attention. It is the orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable toward God. The quality of the attention counts for much in the quality of prayer. Warmth of heart cannot make up for it. (44) The intelligence can only be led by desire. For there to be desire, there must be pleasure and joy in the work. The intelligence only grows and bears fruit in joy. The joy of learning is as indispensable in study as breathing is in running. Where it is lacking there are no real students, but only poor caricatures of apprentices who, at the end of their apprenticeship, will not even have a trade. (48) Not only does the love of God have attention for its substance; the love of neighbor, which we know to be the same love, is made of this same substance. Those who are unhappy have no need for anything in this world but people capable of giving them their attention. The capacity to give one's attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing: it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. Nearly all those who think they have this capacity do not possess it. Warmth of heart, impulsiveness, pity are not enough . The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: ~What are you going through?". This way of looking is first of all attentive. The soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being it is looking at, just as he is, in all his truth. (51) Nothing is more difficult to know than the nature of unhappiness: a residue of mystery will always cling to it. For, following the Greek proverb, it is dumb. To seize its exact shadings and causes presupposes an aptitude for inward analysis which is not characteristic of the unhappy. Even if that aptitude existed in this or that individual, unhappiness itself would balk such an activity of thought. Humiliation always has for its effect the crea-tion of forbidden zones where thought may not venture and which are shrouded by silence and illusion. When the unhappy complain, they almost always complain in superficial terms, without voicing the nature of their true discontent; moreover, in cases of profound and permanent unhappi-ness, a strongly developed sense of shame arrests all lamentation. Thus, every unhappy condition among men creates the silent zone alluded to, in which each is isolated as though on an island. Those who do escape from the island will not look back. The exceptions turn out almost always to be more apparent,than real. (64) No thought attains to its fullest existence unless it is incarnated in a human environment, and by environment I mean something open to the world around, something which is steeped in the surrounding society and is in contact with the whole of it, and not simply a closed circle of disciples Citations are reprinted with permission from the book The Sirnone Weil Reader. edited by George Panichas, © 1977. Published by David McKay Co., Inc. 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Silence Suffering Joy Instrumentality Idea Suffering Failings around a master. (84) The whole of space is filled, even though sounds can be heard, with a dense silence which is not an absence of sound but is a positive sound object of sensation; it is the secret world, the world of Love who holds us in his arms from the beginning. (87) I am convinced that affliction on the one hand, and on the other hand joy, when it is a complete and pure commitment to perfect beauty, are the only two keys which give entry to the realm of purity, where one can breathe: the home of the real. But each of them must be unmixed: the joy without a shadow of incompleteness, the affliction completely unconsoled. You understand me, of course. That divine love which one touches in the depth of affliction, like Christ's resurrection through crucifixion, that love which is the central core and intangible essence of joy, is not a consola-tion. It leaves pain completely intact . for anyone in affliction, evil can perhaps be defined as being everything that gives any consolation. (92-93) We know that joy is the sweetness of contact with the love of God, that affliction is the wound of this same contact when it is painful, and that only the contact matters, not the manner of it. (107) It is more suitable for some thoughts to come by direct inspiration; it is more suitable for others to be transmitted through some creature. God uses either way with his friends. It is well-known that no matter what thing, a donkey for instance, can be used as agent without making any difference. It pleases God perhaps to choose the most worthless objects for this purpose. I am obliged to tell myself these things so as not to be afraid of my own thoughts. (110) Now, everybody knows from his own experience how unusual it is for an abstract idea having a long-term utility to triumph over present pains, needs and desires. It must, however, do so in the matter of social existence, on pain of a regression to a primitive form of life. (150) ¯ . . for the understanding of human suffering is dependent upon justice, and love is its condition. (181) In private life also, each of us is always tempted to set his own failings to a certain extent, on one side. relegate them to some attic, invent some method of calculation ~hereby they turn out to be of no real consequence. To give way to this temptation is to ruin the soul; it is the one above all, that has to be conquered. (187) III Ralph Waldo Emerson New England Dear Mr. Emerson, I write in gratitude for the brilliant essays that have flown so freely from your generous pen. Few subjects escape your incisive gaze and contemplative spirit. Letters of Gratitude / 65"1 History, personalities, nature, culture, education, politics, religion have all elicited your comments and artistic revelation. Lecture halls in America and Europe still reecho with the sound of your voice; the mind and heart of many a transcendental-ist quiver with awe at your observations. Even the woods and hills of New England have never been the same since your vision of their very essence. The inward journey! If for no other reason than this, your writings challenge our achievement-oriented generation and activistic culture to reexamine its values and life-style. Prime time and energy must be budgeted for personal interior renewal. You model well for us here. Interiority was a way of life which you evidenced by the depth of your writing. Your words come from a source far beyond your own power; one can sense this in the tone of your discourse. Your contemplative stance presents a viable option for many of us desirous of a life-style radically different from the one offered by our culture. Another world that is not primarily concerned with productivity and external achievements is available to anyone who desires it. Your life makes present such a choice and, though fear of the interior life remains, your courageous entrance instills hope. "Self-Reliance" is a most powerful essay. You state that the divine spark resides in all of us and tends to be activated in sporadic moments. All have the potential in varying degress for genius--those with developed artistic skills express that genius in some visible-audible manner. My understanding of your meaning of self-reli-ance is not that we are called to some solitary, stoical, individualistic self-suffi-ciency; but rather, that we are motivated to get in touch with our deepest self, far beyond the superficial narrowness of our surface self and find therein a wealth that is wedded to the life force (what we call in theological terms, God). Such an analysis would imply that not to have self-reliance would be to cut oneself off from the source of existence. Your abhorrence of conformity and false consistency is well taken at this point. A failure to live from internalized values carries the price tag of no personal identity, a price paid by too many. Healthy and authentic self-reliance fosters true identity and its accompanying freedom. Initially, I struggled with your style--philosophic, at times highly abstract and tight. Profundity and clarity are seldom happily married because of the mysterious nature of reality. The closer one is to truth the more difficult becomes its expres-sion. Simplicity gets covered by human discourse. The mental challenge to reach beyond any style is well worth the effort. Your writings contain a spirit of deep tension between the individual and collective whole, between personal freedom and authoritarian structures, between self and institutions. You are clearly committed to the first value in each set, i.e., the individual, freedom and self. This seems so obvious that the advantages and importance of the common good are not given full weight, the necessity of some structures containing an authority is not fully appreciated, the role that a given institution can play in fostering life fails to be properly valued. Your own expe-rience of leaving the institutional ministry may have had much to do with your outlook. Perhaps the delicate balance between complementary sets of values can-not be maintained by a prophetic spirit such as yours. An implicit principle of 652 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 nature indicates that the development in one direction of our giftedness entails the underdeveloping of others. Such is reality. Thus the experience of your own genius would not allow outer pressures to thwart its expression. The negative and re-straining forces within institutional structures, the decisions of authority and the challenges of social concerns--all thirsting for precious time and energy--weighed so heavily in your judgment that their advantages had to be forfeited. Your piercing intellect cut through what is extraneous in human experience into its heart, the essence of things. In succinct, pithy phrases, you captured principles and patterns of universal significance, thus shedding light on complex experiences and bringing joy to the spirit which perceives but lacks words to articulate its insight. In a single essay many such phrases reside, awaiting discovery by the thirsting soul. For example, in "Compensation" we read: Nature hates monopolies and exceptions. There is a crack in every thing God has made. Fear is an instructor of great sagacity and the herald of all revolutions. Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass. It is the nature of the soul to appreciate all things. How unfortunate that many have not stopped at your well of late. As a beneficiary of your life-giving water, ! express deep gratitude to you. Your legacy is vast and varied: intellectual excellence of the highest quality, challenging us to develop the rich potential of our minds; historical perspective promoting a contextual vision of life; critical analysis of incisive accuracy, drawing us out of naivete into a sense of healthy criticism; personal integrity as a key goal of growth, demanding that we be true to our own giftedness; enthusiastic living of life, abhorring stagnation and the living of others' scripts; literary expertise ranging from the classic prose to the most lyrical poetry, inviting us to revisit the verbal gems of distant ~pilgrims. These qualities have influenced many: Henry David Thoreau, Emily Dickinson, and countless others. The legacy has not been forgotten. Sincerely, R.F.M. Revelation Perspective We distinguish the announcements of the soul, its manifestations of its own nature, by the term Revelation. These are always attended by the emotion of the sublime. For this communication is an influx of the Divine mind into our mind. It is an ebb of the individual rivulet before the flowing surges of the sea of life. Every distinct apprehension of this central com-mandment agitates men with awe and delight. A thrill passes through all men at the reception of new truth, or at the performance of a great action, which comes out of the heart of nature. In these communications the power to see is not separated from the will to do, but the insight proceeds from obedience, and the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception. (269) The field cannot be well seen from within the field. The astronomer must Letters of Gratitude / 653 Hope Beauty Poet Words Beauty Wisdom Expectation Action Presence have his diameter of the earth's orbit as a base to find the parallax of any star. (285) But the man and woman of seventy assume to know a[[, they have outlived their hope, they renounce aspiration, accept the actual for the necessary and talk down to the young, Let them then become organs of the Holy Ghost; let them be lovers; let them behold truth: and their eyes are uplifted. their wrinkles smoothed, they are perfumed again with hope and power. (289) Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not. (309) Too feeble fall the impressions of nature on us to make us artists. Every touch should tbrill. Every man should be so much an artist that he could report in conversation what had befallen him. Yet, in our experience, the rays or appulses have sufficient force to arrive at the senses, but not enough to reach the quick and compel the reproduction to themselves in speech. The poet is the person in whom these powers are in balance, the man without impediment, who sees and handles that which others dream of, traverses the whole scale of experience, and is representative of man, in virtue of being the largest power to receive and to impart. (321) Words and deeds are quite indifferent modes of the divine energy. Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words. (322) Wherever snow falls or water flows or birds fly, wherever day and night meet in twilight, wherever the blue heaven is hung by clouds or sown with stars, wherever are forms with transparent boundaries, wherever are outlets into celestial space, wherever is danger, and awe. and love--there is Beauty, plenteous as rain, shed for thee, and though thou shouldst walk the world over, thou shalt not be able to find a condition inopportune or ignoble. (341) To finish the moment, to find the journey's end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. (350) I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe and is disappointed when anything is less than the best, and I found that ! begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods. (351) Therefore all just persons are satisfied with their own praise. They refuse to explain themselves, and are content that new actions should do them that office. They believe that we communicate without speech and above speech, and that no right action of ours is quite unaffecting to our friends, at whatever distance; for the influence of action is not to be measured by miles. (358) Why should 1 fret myself because a circumstance has occurred which hinders my presence where I was expected? If I am not at the meeting, my presence where 1 am should be as useful to the commonwealth of friend-ship and wisdom, as would be my presence in that place. I exert the same quality of power in all places. (358) Reprinted from The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson edited by Brooks Atkinson. Pub-lished by Random House, Inc. 654 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Truth Joy Life Renewal Faith Avarice Truth is the summit of being: justice is the application of it to affairs. (368) On the other part, rectitude is a perpetual victory, celebrated not by cries of joy but by serenity, which is joy fixed or habitual. (370) Life goes headlong. We chase some flying scheme, or we are hunted by some fear or command behind us. But if suddenly we encounter a friend, we pause: our heat and hurry look foolish enough: now pause, now posses-sion is required, and the power to swell the moment from the resources of the heart. The moment is all. in all noble relations. (378) The criticism and attack on institutions, which we have witnessed, has made one thing plain, that society gains nothing whilst a man, not himself renovated, attempts to renovate things around him: he has become tediously good in some particular but negligent or narrow in the rest; and hypocrisy and vanity are often the disgusting result. (455) The disease with which the human mind now labors is want of faith. (458) A canine appetite for knowledge was generated, which must still be fed but was never satisfied, and this knoffledge, not being directed on action, never took the character of substantial, humane truth, blessing those whom it entered. It gave the scholar certain powers of expression, the power of speech, the power of poetry, of literary art, but it did not bring him to peace or to beneficence. (459) Address: The Contemporary Spirituality Of the Monastic Lectio by Matthias Neuman, O.S.B. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Poverty, Time, Solitude: A Context for a Celibate Life-style Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem. Brother Wieczorek's ~Parables and Paradigms" appeared in the July/August issue. He resides presently at the Holy Spirit House of Studies; 4841 South Woodlawn Ave.; Chicago, IL 60615. Celibacy is a dimension of a religious way of life. To be understood, therefore, celibacy must be seen in the context of religious life. The meaning of celibacy arises out of its relationship with the complementary vows of poverty and obedience, as well as out of the significance of communal life, prayer, and basic Christian virtue. Seen out of the context of all these elements, celibacy suffers a deprivation and a distortion. From the outset, it is important to be reminded that celibacy is not simply an ethic. Taken out of its context, celibacy is often reduced to being a moral direc-tive-- a negative moral directive. Celibacy is much more than a set of specific sexual mores; it is an extension of Christian virtue, a continuation of it. The sexual demeanor proper to celibacy rests upon Christian virtues and values such as respect for human dignity, single-heartedness, the sacredness of human life, a deep appreciation for what friendship and love can be, compassion, selflessness, and service. A discussion of celibacy must begin here. Before a decision can be made about living celibately, the question must be considered: What does it mean to live a Christian way of life? Am I willing to live with the restraints and limitations imposed upon me, not by celibacy, but by basic Christian values? Only after a person is willing to try to understand, accept, and live a Christian way of life can the matter of celibacy be addressed. Without this prior realization and commitment, celibacy has no context, no depth of meaning, and is left to be nothing more than just another "Thou shalt not . To see at least some part of the richness and potential of celibacy, it must be 655 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 viewed as a dedication to poverty, a devotion of time, and a dependence upon solitude. Celibacy as a Dedication to Poverty The vow of celibacy stands nearest to the vow of poverty. Hence, it is an understanding of poverty that sheds the most light upon an understanding of celibacy. If poverty as a way of life cannot be embraced, neither can celibacy. Poverty is precisely a way of living. It is much more than not having the money to buy something .To be poor means to be without many of the everyday options and opportunities that people who are not poor have. To be poor means, among other things, to live in a constant situation of restriction and limitedness. A poor person has not the option of going to a movie or a ball game, of eating apple pie or cherry, of going to one restaurant rather than another, of wearing these shoes or those, this coat or that. Very often poor people do not have these options because they do not have the physical resources that allow for them. Yet despite being deprived of these "necessities" the poor can live happy and holy lives. The fact of poverty, the force of its physical reality, compels people who are poor to live according to needs and not simply wants. Poverty can "cleanse" us of the unnecessary. It can put us into a situation where we are able to more clearly distinguish between a need and a want. Poverty can liberate us from the bondage of wants, leaving us free to pursue our true needs, those things without which we cannot fully live a human life. Poverty can be humbling by forcing us to face our needs but it can also teach us that happiness lies not in having every want satisfied but in having our true needs satisfied. Seen in this light, poverty is the paradigm for celibacy. Celibacy is not simply a deprivation, it is a way of life. Therefore, it must be a way of relating. While we can be impoverished in some ways of expressing love, we can be rich in others. After all, intimacy does not depend upon sexual expression any more than a meaningful gift depends upon price. The very restrictedness of our expression can heighten the value of a poem or letter or a simple touch or smile. Celibacy, like poverty, can teach true gratitude for the beauty and preciousness of relationships. Celibacy has the potential to "cleanse" us of what is not essential and let us see what we truly need to both give and receive from people--the trust, the sharing, the dreaming. Celibacy does not demand that we repress our needs. Rather, it points them out in bolder relief and challenges us to distinguish between the frustration caused by the deprivation of needs and that caused by the depriva-tion of our wants. It sometimes requires just as much creativity to live celibately as it does to live in poverty. Do I have the grace to express myself creatively to others? If the limitedness of deliberate impoverishment can be willfully chosen and reason for gratitude in one's life still be found, if one can be satisfied to have needs fulfilled even if wants must go unsatisfied and yet remain appreciative and joyous, then perhaps such a person truly has the grace, the call to live celibately. A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 657 Such a call is a gift. It is the nature of gifts to be both given and received. Therefore, it is quite possible to refuse the gift of celibacy. One of the most common ways of refusing celibacy is by being filled with self-pity. It is not uncommon to hear celibates of all ages bemoan their celibacy the way an amputee bemoans the loss of a limb. Like some amputee victims, celibates can easily become lost in the conviction that they are only half human, that they are not whole. The way to overcome such feelings is not by trying to prove manliness or womanliness. Rather, the challenge is to find worth and dignity in who we are, in the deeper and more lasting qualities of humanness like compassion, the ability to listen, to laugh, to be grateful, to stand outside ourselves at the service of others. Our humanness depends upon our ability to love. That we love and are loved is a need. How we love and are loved is a want. Celibates live in the poverty of not having all their wants satisfied. Celibacy means distinguishing between needs and wants, accepting what cannot be. and finding satisfaction, thanksgiving, and peace in what is. Celibacy as a Devotion of Time One thing that poverty does provide in abundance is time. Being bereft of options does free up large amounts of time. Celibacy likewise provides an abundance of time. The challenge is how that time is to be spent, what our time is to be devoted to. Celibacy, for example, frees us from the time it takes to raise a family, but what does it free us for? Ideally, perhaps, we are freed for prayer, reading, study, even the opportunity to take time to see and wonder and dream. Celibacy also frees us to serve, to be available for people. Yet if all we do is remain available for work and devote little or no time to prayer and reading, we are distorting celibacy by removing it from a critical dimension of its context. A big danger for both celibates and non-celibates is that they give themselves more to their jobs than to God and their families or communities. It is this issue, the proper use of time, that causes one of the biggest consternations for celibates. The tendency toward entrenchment in work can be an escape from intimacy, but it is also true that many of the occupations engaged in by celibates are extremely time-consuming and energy draining. Moreover, it is work which simply must be done. The tension between giving time and taking iime is not lessened by the fact that most celibates do recognize the necessity for being present to community and for entering into solitude with God. A celibate life-style that does not allow for time not only to recreate but also to read and reflect cannot give life to the celibate. Such a life-style will consume that person instead. One of the challenges and disciplines of celibacy is the proper use of time. While celibacy ought to provide time, in practice it often does not. Here, too, celibacy shows a connection with poverty. The poor guard and dispense their resources carefully, So too with the celibate's dispensing of time. Workaholism is as much a threat to celibacy as sexual licentiousness--perhaps 6511 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 even more so. Our consciences are sensiiive to the issue of sexual restraint but not to making mistresses out of our work. Our culture emphasizes efficiency, produc-tivity, and frowns upon anything that hints of wasting time. Therefore, celibates who find even a little free time quickly and perhaps unconsciously fill it in by doing more. Yet celibacy as a life-style requires time to be set aside not for doing but for being. Time is a gift many celibates refuse to accept because in part they are afraid to take it. Time only makes the loneliness echo more loudly. Time takes away excuses. It confronts us, Yet time in a celibate life-style is essential, for it provides the panorama that enables us to see what we are to move toward. It gives us the opportunity to see and address our needs. Time must be part of every celibate's life, for without that time celibacy loses its context and the solitude that nourishes celibacy cannot be obtained. While celibacy ought to provide time, it is a commod-ity which so few celibates seem to have. Yet time is an essential resource for the celibate for it alone can acquire solitude for us. Celibacy as a Dependence Upon Solitude Celibacy cannot be endured, let alone lived, without the time to enter into solitude with God. Only by freely and gratefully embracing solitude can a person find life in celibacy. Solitude is not loneliness but aloneness, time apart to be alone with oneself and with one's God. Solitude for the celibate is essential for several reasons. Solitude teaches surrender. It strips away the illusion of wants. It is a confrontation with what is real. of what is essential, of what is true. Solitude teaches sight. In the stillness of solitude we see what we would ordinarily have overlooked, assumed, or taken for granted. Through solitude, we are taught to appreciate, admire, and wonder. Solitude teaches sensitivity. Compassion comes from seeing with another's eyes. Solitude makes one hungry to enter into another's life deeply, personally, respectfully, and ge~atly. But often celibates do not embrace solitude. Instead we try to fill in our time with possessions, work. television, and peripheral friendships. Yet it is essential that celibates in particular spend time in solitude so as to spend time with God. In sqlitude we take time to share in God's aloneness. It is in solitude that we can more deeply fall in love with God. If a celibate does not put an effort into being at peace with solitude, into making a friend of solitude, not only does God become a stranger, but we become strangers to ourselves, and celibacy becomes an empty taunt and an ache. Solitude is so important for celibacy because solitude is a quiet moment with God in the privacy and intimacy of one's own heart. Solitude is the backdrop for the silence we need to hear the Word of God. Solitude is the setting for prayer.It directs our life back to God. There is some-thing about solitude that draws us back to center. If we are afraid to spend time with ourselves in the aloneness of our center, we will not come to commune with the silent places of God. The prayer that comes from solitude is the celibate's life blood. Without prayer, celibacy will not. cannot, endure. Without solitude spent with God we become A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 659 strangers to him and so to prayer. Prayer may lead us out of a celibate life-style, but without prayer the apparent emptiness and futility will drive us out of it. Solitude, far from removing us from relationships, prepares us for them. In solitude we have the setting in which to know ourselves, to see ourselves truly, to hear ourselves honestly. To enter into solitude is to venture into the truth of ourselves--be that what it may. With that knowledge we are free to interact with people as persons. With a sense of our own depths we can move toward the depths of others and together with them enter in faith into the depths of God. Conclusion For a full understanding of what celibacy is, it is important that a person move beyond the initial frustration and unnaturalness of living a life of Christian virtues and enter into the discovery of the real mystery and beauty of celibacy. Celibacy centers around accepting solitude, welcoming time, and living in gratitude. It is such things as these that make celibacy seem unnatural. It is not acceptable or typical to be poor, to have time for oneself and for prayer, or to enter willingly into the solitude of one's own soul. To so many, the "unnaturalness" of celibacy is reduced to sexual denial, the deliberate refusal to marry and raise a family. Yet these are only peripheral issues. The seriousness of these issues, however, under-scores the deeper difficulty of celibate life. Celibacy is not only an orientation away from family and spouse (which is hard enough), it must be an orientation toward poverty, time, and solitude. Celibacy itself is neither the sacrifice nor the offering. What we do with celi-bacy is. The beauty and fulfillment in celibacy is found not in what it moves us away from but in what it compels us toward. To find peace and sanctity in celibacy, it is not so important what we purposely and deliberately deny. Rather, it is much more important what we willingly and lovingly embrace. The Celibacy Experience Stephen Rossetti In May, Stephen Rossetti, author of "Psychology and Spirituality: Distinction Without Separation" (July/August, 1981), was awarded his M.A. in Theology from Catholic University, where he plans to continue in the graduate program. His mailing address is: 26 Reed Pkwy., Marcellus, NY 1310g. He who remains in Zion and he that is left in Jerusalem Will be called holy (Is 4:3). Consecrated celibacy is in crisis. The resignation of priests, sisters and brothers, many of them highly respected members of the Church, is no secret. Fear ripples through the ranks of those who have remained, as their closest friends leave to get married. A painful self-analysis naturally follows: Do we really have to be celibate? Why am I the only one left? Will it happen to me? Is celibacy only a vestige of an outmoded spirituality? Why am I still left? Some say the crisis is waning. The Diocese of Buffalo recently reported that its loss of priests and sisters from 1976-81 was only 8.1% and 4.6% respectively, compared to 21.2% and ! 7% from 197 !-76.~ While it seems that fewer are leaving, there are still fewer left in the ranks to do the necessary tasks. It is questionable whether relief is in sight. The continuing decline in priestly vocations in the United States indicates that the crisis is still with us. This past year there has been yet another decline (8.8%) in the number of U.S. theology students studying for the priesthood. These are less than half of the number of the peak years of 1966-67.2 The exodus of priests and sisters is a mult: faceted problem which is more than ~John C. Given, "Buffalo Diocese: Fewer Priests, Nuns Leaving Religious Life," Syracuse Herald- Journal, 30 December 1981, p. A-3. 2"Seminary Enrollment Drops," National Catholic Register, 20 December 1981. 660 The Celibacy Experience / 661 just a crisis in celibacy. However. the internaliTation of celibacy must be seen as a key element in any discussion of the problem. In the first half of this article, i will raise the modern problems with celibacy and look at contemporary attempts to solve this crisis. In this first section, 1 will include such key issues as the essential relationship between mysticism and inter-nalized celibacy, the lack of support for young celibates, a critical look at current discussions about celibacy, and then the important issue of intimacy in a celibate life. In the second half, 1 will attempt to resolve the modern problems with celibacy by returning to the context of mysticism and positing an approach to the subject which is both existential and scriptural. Celibacy and Mysticism In The Psychology of Loving, Ignace Lepp says that the chastity of those consecrated to Christ must be "counterbalanced by a genuinely mystical life." If it is not, there is the risk of psychic damage: The libido cannot be channeled in a different direction without injury to sexuality unless it finds itself entirely consumed in the service of higher psychic activity? There must be, then, a necessary connection between celibacy and mysticism. In our use of the word here, "mysticism" does not refer to extraordinary phenome-na such as visions or locutions, nor does it refer to the highest states of union with God. Rather mysticism, here, means a "genuine though mediated experience of encounter and communication with the personal God."4 In this sense of mystical, the experience is direct and conscious, and it involves God as person. The experience is also mediated. The word mysticism derives from the Greek word mueo. which means to initiate (as into a "hidden" mystery). The mystery can be hidden under, or mediated by, any aspect of life. However, a preeminent place must be given to the classic Christian mediations--which include Scripture, prayer, tradition, and the sacraments--most of all the Eucharist. Hidden within our ordinary life experiences is the presence of Christ. The "mystical experience" is one in which this personal encounter becomes more and more conscious. This encounter becomes stronger as the years pass and celibacy is internalized. The mystical life allows the channeling of sexual and some emotional needs into "higher psychic activity" which results in a mature celibacy. On the other hand, if the mystical life is permitted to atrophy, then a mature celibacy, if not the entire celibate life, will suffer with it. William McNamara, in his latest work, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology, believes that the mystical life is indeed atrophying, despite some evidence to the contrary: Hgnace Lepp, The Ps.vchology of Loving. trans. Bernard B. Gilligan (New York: A Mentor Omega Book, 1963), p. 213. 4Karl Rahner, ed., Encyclopedia of Theology: 7he Concise Sacramentum Mundi (New York: A Crossroad Book, The Seabury Press, 1975), p. 1009. 662 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 It is obvious that we are presently witnessing a psychical revolution, one. in many respects. that has won the approval of science (biofeedback. body consciousness, metapsychiatry. neuroscience, paraphysics, etc.) and one that could, if properly guided, improve our human condition, and expand our human consciousness immeasurably. There is little evidence. however, that a spiritual-mystical renewal is going on. despite Vatican 11 and the subsequent changes in the Church.5 If McNamara is correct, celibacy will be lost. A truly internalized celibacy, that is, a mature celibacy, requires this mystical life. If celibacy does not become mystical, if it does not grow into a mystical vision, then "God's grace" alone will not uphold the celibate. Grace builds and makes possible an authentic Christian-mystical life; it is not a supernatural substitute for our humanity. Celibacy without mysticism may degenerate inlo mere asceticism, which would be ultimately self-destructive for lack of love. McNamara goes on to say that "man is naturally contemplative. But his mystical powers, left unexercised for so long, are seriously atrophied."6 This is a serious loss for all believers since it has a direct impact on the vitality of their faith and on the development of their full humanity. However, for the celibate in particular, this situation is fatal. With an atrophied mystical life, he is likely to reject celibacy for the sake of his "sanity": he will slowly die to ministry: or he will sublimate his sexual desires in non-productive ways. ls McNamara correct in saying that we have let our mystical powers atrophy and thus we have lost an internalized celibacy? The exodus of consecrated celibates points in that direction. At any rate, in the light of the past twenty years, we can slarely say that in the present state of crisis the depth of our commitment is being tested. In previous years it might have been possible to survive in celibacy by relying on secondary supports. Today it is just not possible. Within this crisis, celibates must develop a mature, internalized love of celibacy based first and fore'most on their own mystical vision and growing encounter with the risen Christ. The state of the Church and Western society makes this absolutely necessary. Little Support for Remaining in the Celibate State Our Western culture offers little support for celibacy. In fact, it is, in some ways, the most discouraging culture possible for a celibate. It ignores religion. Our culture is essentially a-Christian (without Christianity). It would be easier to main-tain a celibate commitment in a culture that is hostile to Christianity--as in the days of the early Christians. At least one could then take heart amidst persecution and 'join" on~self to a tightly knit community of brothers and sisters totally dedi-cated to Christ while fighting an obvious, common antagonist. But today's West-ern culture ignores religion and the celibate. Heroism is more difficult in the face of 5William McNamara, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1981), p. 20. 61bid. p. 22. The Celibacy Experience disinterest than of hatred--and celibacy is a heroic life. It receives inspiration from a culture which applauds those who live it. And it flourishes when it is persecuted. But when it is ignored, it is most sorely tried. On a deeper level, however, it is not quite accurate to say that our culture is totally oblivious to Christianity. The words of the Gospel ring true: "He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters" (Lk 1 !:23). In the final analysis, it is not possible to be neutral to the message of Christ. In whatever form it is presented, explicitly or implicitly, the message of salvation will either be accepted or rejected. Our culture is no exception. Underneath its appar-ent unconcern with Christianity is a subtle barrage of counter-invitations. There are constant overt and subliminal innuendos that cannot fail to tug and tug at the Christian's sexual drives. Our society manifests a sort of cultural passive-aggressive behavior, one that seems tolerant of Christianity but is subtly waging war on its norms. Without Christ, our society loses touch with its deepest need for meaning. According to psychiatrist Viktor Frankl: What is behind the emphasis on sexual achievement and power, what is behind this will to sexual pleasure and happiness is again the frustrated will to meaning. Sexual libido only hypertrophies in an existential vacuum. The result is an inflation of sex . 7 This "inflation of sex" in our society sorely tests the strongest of celibates. The uncommitted are likely to be entrapped. Not only does our culture attack the value of celibacy, new Western attitudes also undermine previous supports for the celibate. There is a new attitude towards authority and tradition: a child-like obedience is not acceptable to the modern mind. As Victor Frankl says, "in contrast to man in former times, he is no longer told by traditions and values what he should do.'~ Likewise, those in the Church accept less and less the fact of canon law and magisterial teaching as being reason enough for remaining celibate. This changing attitude towards authority and tradi-tion is encouraged by the great upheavals within the post-Vatican II Church. The opportunities within such a freedom are great, yet there is also a concomitant increase of danger. Within such a freedom celibates are required to make their commitment their own, with little support from the culture or Church tradition. Concomitant with this rejection of authority and tradition, there is a shift in our concepts, theologies and spirituality. Words such as obedience, sacrifice, ascet-icism and sin are used less frequently. A new model has been substituted which 1 will call the "human growth" model of spirituality. This modern growth-model uses existential concepts such as freedom, human development, holistic growth, and personal responsibility. It understands development in the spiritual life as growth in love and intimacy. It stresses the importance of psychology, self-knowl- 7Viktor E. Frankl, The Unconscious God: Psychotherapy and Theology (New York: Simon and Schuster. 1975), pp. 85-86. ~ Slbid., p. 91. 6 ~4 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 edge, wholeness and all that is authentically human. This model is no doubt a positive, legitimate step in the progress toward a twentieth-century spirituality. It reacts strongly against a previous tendency to reject humanity in favor of some angelic spirituality. Nonetheless, the model has serious shortcomings, e.g., a failure to relate a mature, self-sacrificing obedience to human freedom. And with the transition from earlier models of spirituality to the human growth model, a problem has developed in our theology of celibacy. On the basis of this model it is not so easy to provide an understanding of a celibate life. Love, marriage, children are all an integral part of what it means to be fully human. Without the sharing of the deepest levels of intimacy, as between husband and wife, it would seem that the human growth of.a celibate must be stunted. Our former theology had several ways of dealing with this lack of full intimacy for celibates. For example, repeating an oft-cited idea on celibacy, the Council Fathers of Vatican I1 stated that celibate priests thereby evoke that mysterious marriage which was established by God and will be fully manifested in the future, and by which the Church has Christ as her only spouse.9 There is a theological truth in these and similar statements, but to the modern mind they seem to mean little. How can a "mysterious marriage" deepen my intimacy? To some it sounds like "magical grace." Such theological categories do not mesh with the modern mind which thinks in terms of intersubjectivity, inti-macy, personal self-gift, loving response, and the importance of concrete, interper-sonal relationships for spiritual growth and for ushering in the kingdom of love and peace. This change in mentality requires a change in theology as well. Some New Approaches to Celibacy In Sacrarnentum Mundi Leonhard Weber says: In the formation of priests and in their further development, many of the supports of celibacy which were hitherto relied on will fall away, having proved themselves unreal or erroneous. They must no longer be appealed to. In their place theologically valid arguments must be used, and new aids which correspond to present realities.~0 Many modern spiritual men and women have grappled with the absence of such new arguments. They generously tried to rework an outdated theology of celibacy to correspond to the needs of today--with limited success. For example, much energy is going into showing that one's sexuality is not stunted by celibacy. This is done by making a distinction between the terms genital and sexual. This is a redefinition of categories according to which the word "genital" is applied to what was usually meant by the word "sexual," and then "sexual" in its broadest sense is taken to mean maleness or femaleness. Thus, modern reflection can say that the celibate is still a fully sexual being--but without genital expression. And so a nun could have a close relationship with a priest, and call it a "sexual" relationship-- 9Walter M. Abbott, gen. ed., The Documents of Vatican.H (Chicago: Follett Pub. Co., 1966), p. 566. ~°Sacramentum Mundi.p. 183. The Celibacy Experience / 665 but denying to it "genital" expression. This definition rightly admits that the celibate is not a neuter being but always remains truly male or female. And so at least it should help to keep celibates from attempting to become sexless angels. But however true the first step, saying "a celibate is still male or female," may be, the next statement, "a celibate is fully sexual but not genital," conveys mean-ings and values that are not as evidently proper. The latter statement blurs the important distini:tion there must be between male-female friendship and male-female romantic intimacy. Just as a married man may have female friends, a nun and priest may indeed be friends. But they may not have a romantic intimacy-- even if they do not engage in "genital" activity.~ The distinction between genital and sexual may do more harm than good if it becomes a permission to cross the line of prudence in relations between celibate men and women. Using the excuse that "our relationship is not genital" stems from a legalistic approach to celibacy which in turn endangers true friendship. In addition, any short-term benefits of the principle will be overshadowed by the further fact that it will only justify the kind of obsession with sexuality that is already present in the Church and in society. To focus on the sexuality of the celibate, in fact, obscures the true nature of celibate witness--which should be to point to the primacy of God's kingdom over passing, though good, temporal values. A better approach would distinguish between intimacy and celibacy more strictly. Modern thought in this area is trying to show that the celibate has the same opportunity for intimacy as the married person. This has become especially important in the light of the 1972 NORC study that found that the American priest in general is an "emotionally underdeveloped adult." This has been cause for alarm in the contemporary spiritual milieu which so closely associates spiritual development with human development. What is often forgotten, however, is that the study pointed out that this makes the priest "much like his fellow citizens on the scale of psychological growth" since the average American male also tested out as emotionally underdeveloped.~2 Nevertheless, this new area of reflection, the relationship between intimacy and celibacy, is also having very beneficial results. Celibacy cannot be used as an excuse for refusing to enter into deep human relationships, relationships that are often painful yet necessary for any human growth. Celibacy cannot be seen as representing an excessively other-worldly piety that shuns human affections as unworthy of a spiritual life. The 1971 Synod of Bishops recognized the importance of such human relations in the life of a celibate when it recommended "human balance through well-ordered integration into the fabric of social relationships: fraternal association and companionship with other priests and with the bishop."~3 ~See Paul Conner, "Friendship Between Consecrated Men and Women?" Review for Religious. Vol. 40 (Sept-Oct 1981), pp. 645-659. I:Ernest E. Larkin and Gerard T. Broccolo. eds., Spiritual Renewal of the American Priesthood (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference. 1973), p. I. 666 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Pope Paul VI, in his letter, "Sacerdotalis Caelibatus, "likewise stressed the impor-tance of the celibate relations with the laity. In a moving section of his fatherly letter, Paul VI says: By their devoted and warm friendship [the laity] can be of great assistance to the Church's ministers since it is the laity . . . who are in a position, in many cases, to enlighten and encourage the priest . In this way the whole People of God will honor Christ. promising an assured reward to whoever in any way shows charity toward those whom he has sent (Mt 10:42).~4 In a similar way, the community of the individual religious must supply this same much-needed human warmth and intimacy. The 1980 Plenaria for the Sacred Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes stated that the religious community is itself a theological reality, and object of contemplation., it is of its nature the place where the experfence of God should be able to, in a special way, come to fullness and be communicated to others?5 There is no excessive supernaturalism here. The celibate is a person firmly planted on the earth and relating with others in a shared community life. Thus, this modern movement in spirituality which ties celibacy to human intimacy can make a positive but limited contribution to a new theology of celibacy, as well as to the humanity of celibates. But, like the distinction between genital and sexual, this attempt to show that the celibate can be as fully intimate as his married counterpart is not totally convincing. The approach may confuse as much as it helps--as, indeed, I think it has done. There is a qualitative difference between the human intimacy possible in a marriage and the :human intimacy permissible for a.celibate. Paul VI commented on this type of love: "And love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting."~6 A human marriage, in its final perfection, is such a close bond that "they are no longer two but one flesh" (Mr 19:6). For the celibate this is not permitted. A marriage relationship, if fully realized, has an exclusivity and a totality of self-giv'- ing which is just not available to the celibate. Indeed, if a celibate were to have such an exclusive relationship with another person, regardless of whether it was genital or not, he hardly could be considered celibate. The great witness of centuries of consecrated celibates must lead us to conclude that another kind of ultimate depth of intimacy is possible for a celibate. But our theology has not yet completely uncovered the depths of this celibate intimacy. Communion Is More Than Communication As the pro.blem of celibacy and intimacy and of other celibate issues continues ~31971 Synod of Bishops, The Ministerial Priesthood; Justice in the World (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1972), p. 24. ~'~Pope Paul VI, Encyclical Letter on Priestly Celibacy--June 24, 1967 (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference), p. 39. ~S"The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life," L'Osservatore Rornano, 26 January 1981, p. 14. ~6Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 1 I. The Celibacy Experience / 667 to be discussed, the debate on the relevance of celibacy in the modern Church continues. This debate often swings between "lyrical panegyrics and one-sidedly negative criticism."~7 Part of the conservative faction believes that the priest must be celibate. No doubt such a vision of Church and faith would be shaken without a celibate priesthood, despite the tradition of the East. Thus, this position clings to such external forms for security--a need which is especially intense during the post-Vatican II upheavals in the Church. Some of the liberals, on the other hand, blame celibacy for destroying the humanity of priests and sisters--a fact which may have validity in a few cases but which glosses over the dynamic witness of a long history of celibacy within the Church. For example, one priest told me that if he ever started to "die" in the ministry he would get out. This is precisely the image some have of the pre-Vatican II Church. In their eyes, it was a church that so stressed an other-worldly piety that it killed the humanity of its people. This section of the liberal faction traces our celibate theology back to Greek philosophi-cal dualism which is said to dismiss worldly values and exalt spiritual ones: others trace celibacy back to Old Testament law which stated that sexual acts made one ritually impure. There are other ways theologians have accounted for our previous tradition of celibacy. The obvious way out is to maintain one's humanity through human intimacy. Seeing the emotional deadness and brokenness of some of their predecessors, many stress the importance of human'growth for spiritual development. Thus, the stress today is on celibate intimacy and communication. And there is a significant attempt within our religious houses to develop a community intimacy, often with good results. Certainly this is a good thing and should be continued. However, is community enough? Does it answer the heart of the problem? We communicate with others to achieve intimacy and wholeness. At times there is an almost compulsive need to lay ourselves bare in a search to maintain or recover our humanity. Admittedly, a certain amount of this is healthy and necessary for any human life, especially a celibate life. This mutual sharing, this intermediate level of intimacy will indeed help our humanity and thus our spirituality. But it is not the final answer, and it is becoming apparent that it is not enough for an authentic celibacy. Of itself, it does not lead to a mature celibacy. Psychiatrist Conrad Baars (who died last October) also believed there is too much communication and not enough communion. In his basic work, Feeling and Healing Your Emotions, he says: Interestingly. wherever members of a community--religious, prayer group, covenant--use the term [affirmation] most freely and glibly, there seems to be the least amount of true affirma-tion. Such places depress one with their bustling activity--planned togetherness, meetings. expected modes of behavior and participation, carefully scheduled recreation, etc, There seems little opportunity for just being--even less for being different or for wanting to be alone. Underneath the new freedom of behavior is often a hidden agenda of new co~7l'ormism . The sign of "new heart living" is communion; yet. there is still too much cornmunication to ~TSacramenturn Mundi. p. 181. 6611 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 permit communion and authentic being.~s This sort of excessive communication places a burden on friendships that such relationships should not, cannot carry. We are sharing more and more to satisfy the deepest Iongings of our heart, but in the final analysis we are in danger of silencing these longings with a mass of words and superficialities. In fact, such an approach is contrary to real humanity. To share everything easily actually reveals a lack of intimacy. The work of psychiatrist Viktor Frankl shows the nature of true intimacy: The quality of intimacy so characteristic of love is no less characteristic of religion. It is intimate in two senses: it is intimum in the sense of innermost, and second, it is, like love. protected by shame. Genuine religiousness, for the sake of its own genuineness, hides from the public . The mistake is often made of confounding such shame with neurotic inhibition. Shame. however, is a perfectly natural attitude.~'~ It is not normal nor is it healthy to share the deepest intimacies of love, or of faith, in a casual or even friendly way. To keep such things private, except from the most intimate of soul friends, or from one's spiritual director, is a normal and healthy action. It is a sign of true intimacy. Such an attitude maintains the sanctity of the human person. To violate this sanctity is a grievous affair. This violation would ultimately impair the growth of intimacy by destroying some of the conditions necessary for its growth, such as respect for the human person and the need for individual solitude. During a 1978 lecture to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, Henri Nouwen commented on this close link between solitude and intimacy: Solitude leads us to a new intimacy with each other and makes us see our common task precisely because in solitude we discover our true nature, our true self, our true identity. That knowledge of who we really are allows us to live and work in community3o It is precisely this depth of intimacy which is the sign of a mature celibate and it is this depth which should enliven and nourish all the other relations a celibate has, just as the intimacy of marriage should ground and nourish the other relations a spouse has. Is Optional Celibacy the Answer? Optional celibacy seems to be emerging as the moderate position in the Church. For pastoral reasons, and in order to recognize cultural diversity, its concession may be required. This change would be theologically easy, given our present understanding of celibacy as distinct from, and not essential to, Orders. But this distinction, though affirmed in modern times, does not take fully into ISConrad Baars. Feeling and Healing Your Emotions (Plainfield, N.J.: Logos International, 1979), p. 221. ~gFrankl, Unconscious God, pp. 47, 46. 2°Henri J. M. Nouwen, "Solitude and Community," lecture presented to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, 4 April 1978. p. 20. The Cefibacy Experience account the reality of the place of celibacy in the Latin Church. With the rise of historical and existential theologies, we are coming to a fuller understanding of the place of the whole human person in our theologizing. Thus, while celibacy is only a canonical duty, it figures as an important element in our "collective memory," or our "story," or again, our western Catholic "identity." Concepts that are appearing in the new theology should make us more hesitant to favor optional celibacy too quickly. Celibacy is more than just a discipline. Rather, it has been woven into our history and thus into our collective memories. In the midst of a Church already suffering a severe identity crisis, the impact of optional celibacy on our "story" should be carefully considered. In addition, a case could be made that in no time of history is celibacy more necessary than today. At first glance the statement seems absurd, but when placed into the total context of the times, when one observes the signs of the times, it gains in its appearance of truth. As stated earlier, our people are under a sexual siege by advertisers, movies, TV and other elements of society. In an age when people are trying harder and harder to become liberated from Christian sexual mores, we are becoming more and more enslaved to sex. Such is precisely the nature of sin and evil. It promises the opposite of what it gives. Our society has promised sexual liberation and has produced just the opposite. The value of celibacy as a sign that shows the relative value (while not negating its intrinsic goodness) of sex is never more needed. Also, given the unity of all in the Mystical Body of Christ, it has likewise been never more important for a few to persevere in the struggle against sexual license in a heroic way for its spiritual aid to all people who are struggling with sexual difficulties within their own vocations. Paul speaks of this union of all in Christ when he says to the Corinthians: "If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members share its joy" (I Co 12:26). Nonetheless, the pressure is on the Vatican for optional celibacy. While such a compromise may be necessary, I doubt that it will truly alleviate the problem. (Perhaps rather than making celibacy optional, it would be more to the point for the Vatican to announce that marriage is mandatory for all priests and religious! Then when a select few would flee to the mountains and the deserts, there to listen more intently to the "still, small voice," and thus refuse to marry, these are the ones who should be ordained.) Compromise, while often necessary, can fall into tepid-ity, failing to see that, for the celibate, the Christian message is nothing if not radical. "I am Come to cast fire on the earth and what will 1 but that it be kindled" (Lk 12:49), or again, "But because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth" (Rv 3:16). Without such a radical, total commitment, there is no deep intimacy--for the celibate as well as for the married person. Deepest Intimacy Is in Mystery This intimacy is completed only in the deepest levels of the person. This depth is beyond the spoken word; it is beyond verbal communication. It can only be 670 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 called mystery--a mystery which marvelously opens itself up in the communion of love. Thus the depths of intimacy are experienced as mystery, and as love, for both the celibate as well as the married person. This is the deepest level of personal growth and the truest level of self-knowledge. Some commentators on this deepest level of the person have cited the efforts of Nietzsche. They say that Nietzsche saw this great depth which he called "nothing-ness" and yet he was a courageous man to continue to face his "nothingness" and carry on bravely. This may be courage but it also may be a disguised fear--a fear to really experience this "nothingness" or depth of mystery. Nietzsche stood at the brink of the ocean of mystery and summoned the courage to remain there and look. The Christian is called to go one step further--to dive in! Viktor Frankl put forth a similar idea using the image of a summit surrounded by fog: On his way to find the ultimate meaning of life, the irreligious man, as it were, has not yet reached the highest peak, but rather has stopped at the next to highest . And what is the reason the irreligious man does not go further? It is because he does not want to lose the "firm ground under his feet." The true summit is barred from his vision: it is hidden in the fog. and he does not risk venturing into it, into this uncertainty. Only the religious man hazards it.2~ This depth, this "diving into the ocean" or "climbing through the fog to the highest peak" is open to a married couple united in faith. Such an unspoken depth to their relationship allows the mystery of one to be opened and joined to the mystery of the other, the ocean of one to the ocean of the other. This mystery therefore cannot be opened by the effort of one; it requires two to open it. Love requires union, and this deepest mystery is a union of love. At first glance, this would seem to exclude the celibate because the necessary love is, recalling the words of Paul VI, "total, exclusive, stable and lasting." This love seems denied the celibate who has no partner! Within such a quandary, our theology of celibacy is too often opaque, making little sense to the modern person. We could foist the problem onto "grace," and thus expect a solution from some magical power to hold our humanity in abeyance until the end-times. But this would be a denial of the real nature of the Christian message and a misunderstand-ing of the true nature of grace. Christianity is not essentially a negative religion. If it denies, it does so only to affirm in a more profound way. If God asks for any sacrifice, it is only to return the gift a hundred-fold. And, it seems to me, this is the problem with which modern thought on celibacy must deal--a problem that is especially difficult to solve if we use the growth model of spirituality. Celibacy and Theological Distancing To this point, we have merely opened up several problems in our theologies of celibacy. There seems to be a real difficulty in relating the depths of intimacy and celibacy, despite some modern attempts to do so. The older approaches with their 2~Frankl, Unconscious God. pp. 55-56. The Cefibacy Experience / 671 reliance on grace threaten to skip over our true humanity. What is perhaps lacking in both approaches, what may be largely responsible for the crisis in celibacy today, is a proper starting point. An accumulation of theologizing and reflection has developed an elaborate theological understanding of celibacy, but may have lost contact with its simple yet radical starting point. Paul Ricoeur's warning of cultural distancing may apply to our case: Cultural distance is not only the altering of the vehicle, but also the forgetting of the radical question conveyed by the language of another time. It is necessary to undertake, therefore, a struggle against the.forgetting of the question, that is. a struggle against our own alienation in relation to what operates in the question?2 We may, indeed, have forgotten the "radical question" which underlies the very existence of celibacy. This question must come as an existential question which demands a radical human response. The existential question involves an expe-rience that gives rise to the unusual phenomenon of celibacy. This experience I call the celibacy experience. Theological reflection can help make this experience understandable. It can explain its fruits and it can even help prepare someone for it. But theological reflection cannot impart the experience itself. Celibacy must spring from an expe-rience which begets a radical and total response. In the experience, a radical question is asked, and a radical answer must be given--though the response will have to grow in actualization with time. What we need is an existential model of celibacy, one that starts with human experience. This model must be able to address the concepts of intimacy and humanity in a convincing way. These concepts, though, can only be understood when viewed in the light of the beginning section of this article, when we wrote of mysticism, the internalization of celibacy, and higher psychic functions. An,"Existential Scriptural Approach To find such an existential approach, it is necessary to cut through centuries of cultural and theological distancing and return to Scripture. But our approach should not be to use Scripture. in the usual way of the conventional theologies of celibacy. In these approaches, citations are made of such Pauline passages as: The virgin--indeed any unmarried woman--is concerned with things of the Lord. in pursuit of holiness in body and spirit. The married woman, on the other hand, has the cares of this world to absorb her. , (I Co 7:34). Or again, To those not married and to widows, I have this to say: h would be well if they remain as they are. even as I do myself: but if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry (I Co 7:8-9). These and other such passages, though, are not the celibacy experience itself, a-'Paul Ricoeur, "The Language of Faith," in Charles Reagan and David Steward, eds. The Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur (Boston: Beacon Press, 1978), p. 224. 672 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 but only reflections on the experience. It is the mystical encounter with God in Christ that results in these inspired theological reflections. Paul's embrace of the life of consecrated celibacy stemmed primarily from his encounter with Christ. He refers to his own celibacy experience: Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? And are you not my work in the Lord? (1 Co 9:1). To the community at Corinth, Paul claims a direct vision of Jesus which grounds his apostolate; it drives him almost compulsively: Yet preaching the gospel is not the subject of a boast; I am under compulsion and have no choice. 1 am ruined if I do not preach it! (I Co 9:16; see 2 Co 5:14). This experience of Paul was not really one experience, but many: "I must go on boasting, however useless it may be, and speak of visions and revelations" (2 Co 12:!). It is only in the light of such experiences that Paul's celibacy makes any sense. He saw everything else as being of secondary importance compared to his being "grasped by Christ" (Ph 3:i2). Paul says, even more forcefully, "1 have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ" (Ph 3:8). And it is precisely in this light that Paul recommends celibacy as being a way to devote oneself fully to the things of the Lord--just as it was for him. The authority and very existence of his apostolate depended on these experiences, and they became such a driving force in his life that celibacy was a result of it. Traditional celibacy-literature also quotes a passage from the Gospel of Matthew: Some men are incapable of sexual activity from birth: some have been deliberately made so; and some there are who have freely renounced sex for the sake of God's reign. Let him accept this teaching who can (19:12). This teaching, which supplies the theory to Paul's practice, focuses on celibacy "for the sake of God's reign." Notice again that there is no attempt to show that one should be celibate because Christ was, or that celibacy reflects the marriage of Christ with the Church, or even that celibacy is good because one is more effective for ministry. These are all later theological reflections, no matter how true they may be. They do not ground anyone's celibacy. The),' are not the celibacy expe-rience. Rather, as the Matthean Gospel points out, marriage is renounced "for the sake of God's reign." The passage implies that there is a direct experience of the reign of God. Otherwise, it would be impossible to dedicate oneself to it. In fact, the reign of God became a direct reality in the lives of many of those early Christians, enough of a reality to cause them to renounce a fundamental of human life--marriage. This, then was a powerful experience. This in-breaking of the reign of God is an eschatological experience. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, or last times, into people's lives. Paul's experience was also truly an eschatological one since in his vision he saw the risen Christ who is himself the Reign of God. This is precisely what a mystical experience is, although it can take many different forms. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, the reign of The Celibacy Experience / 673 God, the risen Christ into people's lives. There is no mysticism without eschat-ology-- an eschatology that proclaims that the kingdom is already present among us, though in a hidden way. Eschatological Fervor And such an eschatological, mystical experience totally changes one's life. It creates such a powerful force and conversion that it can make one cry out, as it did with Paul, "I am ruined if 1 do not preach [the Gospel]." With this conversion comes a new vision--a mystical vision. This experience gives rise to an eschatolog-ical fervor which makes it easy to believe that the end is at hand. Such was often the case with the prophets who, upon experiencing the greatness of God, saw the depths to which God's creation had fallen, and they cried out for repentance, claiming that God's just punishment was near. In the book of Isaiah, for example, the prophet has a vision of the temple of the Lord. He is overwhelmed with the holiness and power of God while the seraphim cry out, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. ! All the earth is filled with his glory!" (6:3). Isaiah immediately felt his own sinfulness in the face of such holiness: "Woe is me, I am doomed! For 1 am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips"(6:5), lsaiah's new vision of the holiness of God and the sinfulness of the people leads to his message of the imminent destruction of Israel by God: "lf there be still a tenth part in it, then this in turn shall be laid waste" (6:13). It was in this same eschatological fervor that Paul believed the kingdom of God to be an imminent reality: I tell you. brothers, the time is short. From now on those with wives should live as though they had none: those who weep should live as though they were not rejoicing: buyers should conduct themselves as though they owned nothing, and those who make use of the world as though they were not using it. for the world as we know it is passing away (I Co 7:29-3 I). This eschatological fervor was the result of Paul's experience of the risen Christ. This was a mystical experience which resulted in a new vision of life, a mystical vision. However, it is obvious to us, and even Paul came to understand, that the time is not short. Two thousand years have passed and Christ has still not come in his glory. But to take this approach, that is, to discount the fervor of the early Christians because their belief in the imminence of the second coming proved to be wrong, is to miss the significance of their times, and the truth of their experience. The early Christians experienced the reign of God breaking into their lives. They were baptized in the Spirit and such a baptism was at times a mystical experience which produced this eschatological fervor. As it is recorded in the Acts of the Apostles: The Holy Spirit came upon [the Gentiles]. just as it had upon us at the beginning. Then I remembered what the Lord had said: "John baptized with water but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit" II 1:15-16). They may have misinterpreted this mystical vision, this new perception of reality: they may have believed that Christ was coming soon. But this is often the case with intense mystical experiences. St. John of the Cross spoke of these 674 / Review for Religious. Sept.-Oct., 1982 dangers with extraordinary mystical experiences; they are often interpreted on too concrete a level, when they are intended for a higher, more spiritual plane. Perhaps this was the case with the early Christians. They experienced the closeness of Christ and his kingdom. The words of Jesus were passed along to them which pointed to his coming, and they may have interpreted such signs literally. Regardless of the reason for their mistaken view of the second coming, we should not dismiss their eschatological fervor because of it. This fervor is the proper response, just as it was for Amos: The lion roars who will not be afraid: the Lord God speaks who will not prophesy? (Am 3:8). It was this fervor that contained within it the phenomenon of celibacy. Without this experience, celibacy makes little sense. Later theological reflection can try to explain the celibate state, as Paul tried to do, but it cannot recreate the experience itself. But what happens when the fervor wears off'? Paul began to realize that he, too, might die before Christ comes again. The initial celibacy experience that gave rise to the fervor for the reign of God and caused the early Christians to renounce marriage can fade as the years wear on. What does the modern mistress of novices do with her charges once the initial fervor of vocation begins to wane, as it always does? It is then that moderns begin to wonder about their humanity. Will celibacy kill it? The earlier mystical vision fades, and the reality of celibacy as a loneliness without spouse, sex and family presses on the celibate. The stress on intimacy today makes it even more difficult, and there are plenty of TV shows and adver-tisements to remind the celibate of what he is missing. Celibate Intimacy With Christ This initial fervor must be followed by a desert experience, an absence of fervor, as mystical theology points out. But it is precisely within this period of dryness that the mystical vision is secretly growing. It is then that youthful fervor must yield to a new experience that reaches deeper into the person. This new experience is reflected best in the Gospel of John, "the disciple whom Jesus loved": A third time Jesus asked him, "Simon. son of John, do you love me?" Peter was hurt because he had asked a third time, "Do you love me?" So he said to him: "Lord, you know everything. You know well that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep" (21:17). In these spiritual reflections of John's Gospel do we see hinted at a deeper intimacy with Christ. The servant, and friend becomes lover and beloved. Thus we see introduced a new element: the love of Christ. The compulsion to preach is giving way to a deeper relationship with Christ, a relationship of love. The ground of Peter's ministry is this love of Christ. The early eschatological fervor has to give way to this intimate love of Christ, The Celibacy Experience / 675 and this is only possible because Jesus first offers his love. When he asks Peter if he loves him, iris implied that Jesus is first offering his love, and is asking if Peter will respond. Such is the existential approach of Scripture: God offers through Christ, and we must respond. Peter did respond, to the fullest extent. He had exclaimed to Jesus: "We have put aside everything to follow ~,ou!" To this Jesus replied: I give you my word, there is no one who has given up home, brothers or sisters, mother or father, children or property for me and for the gospel who will not receive in this present age a .,hundred times as many homes, brothers and sisters, mothers, children and property--and persecution besides--and in the age to come, everlasting life (Mk 10:28-30). This earlier response of youthful fervor should grow into a mature love. "Although you have never seen him, you love him" (1 P 1:8). Such an unseen love, then, is directly connected with faith. There can be no love of an unseen object unless faith prepares the way. It is the youthful fervor and the later desert expe-riences which produce a faith strong enough to support such a love. It is a faith offer and response of love. This does not make the offer and response, nor the love, any less real. The reign of God has come among us. Christ is still offering the love of God in a real though hidden way. The radical question which underlies the mature celibate experience is still being asked: "Do you love me?" This is real grace--not magical grace. God, in Christ, offering himself to the world--Person to person. Grace is the theological concept which denotes this real exchange within human history. If, as Paul VI said, there must be "a wise sublimation of the psychological life on a higher plane," it is because our sublimation and needs will be met within human history; God's kingdom has come!23 Though we cannot see the object of our exchange, this exchange is nonetheless real. Such is the nature of a faith-love. It is only within such a faith-love context that we can understand the true nature of celibate intimacy. In this offer and response with Christ, the celibate should eventually come to experience, either explicitly or implicitly, the deepest level of love and intimacy, recalling, the words of Paul VI: "Love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting." The mature celibate, the one who has internalized his call, has come to respond in this total and exclusive way to Christ. Such is the total self-gift in a marriage; such, too, is the total self-gift in the intimacy of the celibate. It is no accident, then, that later mystical theology came to describe such a relationship as a "spiritual marriage." It is a relationship~ which includes the deepest union. Yet this total and exclusive intimacy between the celibate and Christ does not exclude other relationships. In fact, it depends on other human relationships to make it possible. At the same time, celibate intimacy provides the possibility for the full fruition of these other relationships. However, one cannot completely identify one's intimacy with Christ, with the intimacy one has with others. And without a real intimacy with Christ, these other relationships tend to become 2~Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 22. 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 warped, possessive and destructive. Such an intimacy grows out of the celibate experience. It is not something that is once and for all, but a chain of real encounters that renew and strengthen the individual's original response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" The original, novitiate, eschatological fervor is transformed and strengthened in the desert. Fervor is exchanged for love, and the compulsion to preach is exchanged for peace. The celibate experience is, then, a growing life-experience in and with Christ. It is not necessarily a "Mystical" (big "M") experience, some kind of extraordinary revelation--such as those of Paul who saw the face of Christ. Rather, the celibate experience is a "mystical" (small "m") experience. It is a direct encounter with Christ in which the radical question of love is asked, but it is an encounter that is hidden within the ordinary. McNamara sees that this immediacy of mysticism is nonetheless mediated: It is God whom mystical knowledge perceives immediately and experientially in the historic revelation of Christ~ the sacramental life, and the ecclesiastical organism. It is not contradic-tory to unite indissolubly the immediacy of mystical knowledge to all the Christian mediations.24 Thus the celibate in today's world must be a mystic but not necessarily a Mystic. This mystical relationship, of course, remains beyond words; it is beyond clear, verbal definitions. In it the mystery of God touches the mystery of the human person, and in this touch, the depths of the human person are opened, and he attains to a vision of reality that is mystical. Do You Love Me? It is this experience and the resulting vision which ground the celibate's aposto-late. The celibacy experience, which eventually grows into a total response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" provides the charter and gives life to his or her ministry. Without this growing intimacy with Christ, the celibate's ministry is without an anchor and will drift with every theological and psychological breeze that comes along. Again, McNamara has an excellent insight: People are fed and sustained by a mystical theology; they are amused and confused by any other. Yet they are being led thoughtlessly from one vogue to another. It's so tempting to be faddish, accommodating; to leave our solitary, silent stance before the source of wisdom and become washed out in the 'sauce~ of endless meetings, parties~ dialogues, lectures, conventions.2~ Without a mystical vision the celibate is unlikely to remain celibate for long. Any ministry without a mystical vision is liable only to "amuse and confuse" the people. The people thirst for Christ. It is the authentic Christ they need, yet the temptation is always to grasp false messiahs, even though with the best of inten- 2'~McNamara, Christian Mysticism, p. 16. ~lbid., p. 24. The Celibacy Experience / 677 tions. Mother Teresa wrote a note that said: "Pray for me that 1 do not loosen my grip on the hand of Jesus, even under the guise of ministering to the poor.''~6 Even such a great ministry as serving the poor can become a false messiah without an intimate relationship with Christ. The time has come for Catholic celibates to renew their primary identity as Christians. It is only in a life centered on Christ that true celibate intimacy is realized. It is only thus that liberals, conservatives and moderates can become what the Gospel calls for--radical lovers. And without a radical response to the love of Christ there is no mysticism, and thus no internalized celibacy. The way is not easy. Though the kingdom has already come into the world, it remains hidden. The eschaton is not fully realized in human history. A celibate's relationship with Christ will reflect this incompleteness during this life. Just as "all creation groans and is in agony even until now" (Rm 8:22), the celibate's life must also have many moments of groaning, and a longing for the final fulfillment of God's kingdom. The call of Christ is again sweeping the world: "Do you love me?" Fewer are left: fewer are responding. But there are enough. There is enough leaven for the entire lump of dough to rise. And for the remnant that is left: No more shall men call you ~For~ken," or your land "Desolate," But you shall be called "My Delight." and your land "Espoused.". As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you: and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride so shall your God rejoice in you (Is 62:4-5). -'~'Phyllis Theroux. "'Amazing Grace: Mother Teresa Comes to Calcutta." Washhzgton Post Magazine, 18 October 1981. p. 30. Preparing for the 1983 Synod Stephen Tutas, S.M. In explaining his point in writing this article, Fr. Tutas states: "As a member of the 1980 Synod, I am well aware that the success of the General Assembly depends to a great extent on how well participants reflect the mind of the Church throughout the world." This article simply draws attention to the ~'neamenta published by the General Secretariate of the Synod. Father Tutas, Superior General of the Society of Mary (Marianists) 1971-1981, is presently Director of the Marianist Formation Center; P.O. Box AC; Cupertino, CA 95015. Immediately after the 1980 Synod of Bishops, preparation began for the 1983 Synod. After a lengthy process of consultation, Pope John Paul II designated "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church" as the theme for the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops which will be held in 1983. The General Secretariate of the Synod then prepared an initial presentation of the theme and sent this to the National Conferences of Bishops for their personal study. This first document is a fifty-four page study in the English edition pub-lished by the Vatican Polyglot Press this past January. The purpose of the docu-ment is "to stimulate reflection in the local churches, to receive information, advice and useful suggestions for the future synodal discussion; to provoke, as soon as possible, a movement of spirits and of prayer which disposes souls to the metanoia which is at the root of the synodal theme." For all these reasons it is very important for religious to take an active interest in the coming synod. It is interesting to note that the General Secretariate is encouraging wide consultation by stating that the publication of this first document "is without limits and not reserved." After analyzing the feedback from this first document, the General Secretariate will later issue a more extensive working paper. As religious we cannot afford to be passive as the preparation for the 1983 Synod moves forward. While the members of the synod have the responsibility of reflecting the mind of the Church throughout the world as they participate in the synod, the rest of us have the responsibility to study the theme of the synod as 678 Preparing for the 1983 Synod thoroughly as we can so that we can be well prepared to enter into the movement promoted by its celebration. Accordingly, in the hope of stimulating further reflection in preparation for the 1983 Synod, I would like to offer some thoughts about the theme that are prompt-ed by my personal study of the initial document. The theme of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church was selected from among many topics suggested for the Sixth General Assembly. Towards the close of the 1980 Synod there was a brief.discussion about possible themes for the 1983 sessions. Among the issues mentioned at that time was the Sacrament of Penance. After further consultation, this particular theme was even-tually developed into the much more comprehensive topic that is outlined in this document issued by the General Secretariate. As presented, the theme touches many other topics that had also been proposed as possible themes, such as youth, the Christian laity, the identity of the Church following the changes effected by Vatican I1, the evaluation of liturgicalrenewal, popular piety, spirituality, Catholic education, the training of priests, the role of bishops in the Church, ecclesiology, the future. The study of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church can also be viewed in relation to previous synods--especially justice in the world, evangelization in the modern world and catechetics, and of course, it has many implications for the mission of the Christian family in the modern world. The theme echoes many of the concerns expressed in pontifical documents of recent years. Among these, it is significant to recall Pope Paul VI's statement for the World Day of Peace, 1975: "Reconciliation, the Way to PeAce." The synod study is also related to the encyclical letter of Pope John Paul II, "On the Mercy of God" that was published shortly after the last synod. What I find especially attractive about the coming synod is that it is being ¯ presented as a development of the great themes of the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World. Throughout the synoddocument there are remind-ers that this topic is not to be considered solely in terms of baptized Catholics, but that it is a topic of great importance "for all who seek meaning to existence." This theme is of great importance for the quality of the Christian life; it is also meaning-ful for the world in general. I found the intent of the initial document to speak a message of hope to the modern world very heartening. There is no denial of the injustice in the world today and in the hearts of so many people. The section describing this is particu-larly well expressed. The document speaks of the reality of today's world in contrast to our understanding of God's plan for us and our own response to this plan in our efforts to build a better world. Given the wars, violence, terrorism of our time, the conclusion is that the dominant characteristic of our era seems to have become that of tensions and divisions. It would be quite easy to give in to the feelings of helplessness in the face of the complexity of the problems facing us today. But it is quite clear from the document that the great expectation is that the synod itself will speak a message of hope to the Church and to the world. 61~1~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Much of the theme deals with the basic human need for personal reconciliation with God, with each other, and with ourselves. But what impressed me above all was the emphasis given to the promotion of justice and peace in the world through the call to reconciliation and penance. The document suggests that the synod face the complex reality of tensions and divisions in the world today with confiderlce that there is an answer. We Christians cannot lose hope. In recognizing that the Church is the sacrament of reconciliation, the Church has a new understanding of its pastoral mission in the modern world. 1 am also intrigued by the proposed study of the meaning of change in our lives. The word penance used in the synod document is meant to include the meaning of repentance, understood as conversion. The synod topic offers us an opportunity to focus on the change of mind and heart that Vatican II called for, and on the continual change to which we are called as Christians. The appeal to conversion understood as a change of direction, return, practical change in the way of living, interior change of mentality, metanoia, is clearly and forcefully pre-sented. The Church is seen as "holy and formed of sinners," holy, but always in need of being purified, incessantly pursuing the path of penance and renewal. The message of hope that Christians are called to proclaim in today's world is God's love for his people. It is God who forgives and liberates in order to reconcile all men and women to himself, with each other, with all creation. The dream of a new creation is once again proclaimed, a new creation where there is interior unity and true liberty, where there is a new relationship with other men and women, a new human community founded on justice, a new sense of God living and working in history. The General Secretariate of the Synod, in publishing this first document in preparation for the 1983 Synod, insists that the statements made are "provisional in character and limited and thus it would be useless to make a critique of them or to attempt to perfect the text." But it is an invaluable starting point for all of us as we prepare for the 1983 Synod. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions--II Patricia Spillane, M.S. C Our last issue carried the first part of this article. In the current issue, Sister Patricia concludes her study of the process of internalization. Sh'e continues to reside at the convent of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart: 428 St. James Place: Chicago; IL 60614. ~n Part I of this article, we considered how to live more authentically the life we proclaim: i.e., how can our constitutions be planted deep within us, written on our hearts (see Jr 3 !:33)? We reflected on our attitudes toward these constitutions, and on ourselves as the source of attitudinal decisions--spiritually, philosophically, psychologically. If nothing else, by now we should have arrived at an appreciation for the complexity of the problem: that arriving at a true internalization of what is written calls indeed for foundations of rock, and that much labor and struggle are required to build over that! 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 (Lk 6:47-49). In the following pages, I will try to indicate some directions which could aid in this foundation-setting for interiorization within religious communities. Of their nature, such foundations are conceptual and theoretical, the underpinnings from which must proceed programs of action once the principles have been clarified. Such foundations need to reflect adequately our reality, a reality that is at one and the same time spiritual, anthropological and psychological. Efforts at internaliza-tion will be hampered without such an integration. Premises already exist in each of these areas since Christianity has been propos-ing such principles for centuries. Respective constitutions incorporate these and give them a unique flavor. 681 61~2 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 But we each have our own concepts of, and attitudes toward theology, philo-sophy and psychology, both conscious and unconscious. We need to examine our own assumptions in these areas to see how they contrast with what we are called to. Furthermore, with clear premises and principles we can better grasp still further implications: where do we go from here? We can move more securely from the theoretical to the concrete, both individually and collectively, without haphazard experimentation and without facile reaching for faddist solutions. A. Theological Foundations The very word foundation conjures up something solid, firm, lasting, not the ephemeral, fantastic, passing. It is obvious that any theological foundation for the internalization of Christian living must have indeed "Christ Jesus himself for its main cornerstone" (Ep 2:20), the Christ of revelation and of the gospels, as pro-claimed by the Church. What is needed is a theology that integrates both the transcendent and the incarnational, both vertical and horizontal dimensions, both interior life and exterior action. Consequently, we are talking about a Christologi-cal, ecclesial foundation of objective, revealed values that are both normative and attractive, values that can propose objective and inspiring criteria with which we can collectively and individually evaluate and challenge ourselves. Our vision of God must begin with the God of revelation and Scripture, as authentically reflected to us down through the ages by the Church and sacred tradition. Equally essential to this theological vision is its concept of our humanity called to a unique relationship with our Creator as the peak of creation, elevated to unimaginable new possibilities in Christ, yet withal vulnerable and capable of betraying our Creator and Savior. Called to respond, we are still" free to say "no." Therefore, the triplet of grace, sin and concupiscence can never be overlooked (more will be said along this line in the anthropological section below). Such a theology will see the spiritual life as the arena of interaction between nature and grace, the call to personal and enduring transcendence in the name of Christ that begins with baptism and reaches its fulfillment in the Beatific Vision. Such free cooperation with grace is at one and the same time the highest activity to which we are called, that which makes us most truly human and that which ultimately brings us true self-fulfillment as a result of our self-transcendence. However, we do not incarnate such principles in a vacuum. We live in a world of increasing theological pluralism, of the rapid dissemination and impassioned defense of new ideologies--in short, in a world of theological ferment where discernment, critical thinking, and a clear vision of the fundamentals are more essential than ever. As Christians and religious, we must be able to sift and see in what way our, theological thinking may have been infiltrated by certain current trends which can bias and distort the foundation for our attitudinal decision. Discerning Theological ,Trends A group of Christian theologians (including Avery Dulles, S.J.) from nine denominations engaged themselves in precisely this kind of sifting a few years ago From Tablet to Heart in Hartford, Connecticut, resulting in the clarification and designation of thirteen pervasive ideas which they considered to be "false and debilitating."t 1 have grouped some of these into three areas so that it will be apparent how an ade-quately integrated theological foundation implies a counter-cultural stance that is in opposition to each of them. I. Religious language refers to human experience and nothing else, God being humanity's noblest creation . Jesus can only be understoo~l in terms of contemporary models of humanity . An emphasis on God's transcendence is at least a hindrance to, and perhaps incompatible with, Christian social concern and action. Here is clearly seen the polarization of a theology of the supernatural with the theology of secular humanism. According to the latter, "man and world have in themselves an ultimate value'~--a prime example of Frankl's objec!ification of persons and subjectification of values mentioned in Part 1, with the result that we must become our own source of meaning, and evaluate ourselves by subjective criteria. This subjectivism, in turn, gives rise to experientialism: lacking objective guidelines, we can only use our emotions to ratify our experience. God's existence is inferred from subjective religious experience. That which should be effect becomes, instead, the cause of belief and the fountainhead of religion. Von Bal-thazar's comments are appropriate here: It is not that man has to have an experience of God: it is more that God

Issue 39.3 of the Review for Religious, May 1980. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration wilh faculty members of the Dbpartment of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, MissQuri, © 1980. By REVIEW FOR REL~O~Ot~S. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription'U.S.A.: $8.00 a year: $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RF.L~CaOt~S: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor. Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and A nswers Editor Assistant Editor May, 1980 Volume 39 Number 3 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVlF.W FOrt 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 College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. A Check on Our Availability: The Examen George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. Father Aschenbrenner is engaged in campus ministry, and at the same time, working nationally with priests and religious. He resides at Scranton University, Scranton, PA 18510. [n an earlier issue (January, 1972, "Consciousness Examen") I had written about a renewed understanding of the traditional lgnatian exercise of the daily examen. In that article I preferred to talk of an "examen of con-sciousness," because most of us had come to understand "conscience" in a narrowly moralistic sense. This had turned the examen into a fairly negative practice, soon discarded when we got into the typically busy apostolic life. To set aside specific time each day to see what we did wrong was not very much help. Nor did the practice enrich our apostolate much, because it gradually turned God into Someone always catching us .doing something wrong--and thus we wrought havoc on our self-esteem. A good sense of self-value, an ef-fective apostolate, and our image of God are always intimately connected. A Positive~ Understanding of the Examen .~: The formal examen should rather be a time of prayer about how much God has loved me in the yery existential details of my day, and how he could have loved me more in certain situations if my inner spiritual decisiveness and external presence had been a bit different. This is not just a different articula-tion of the meaning of the examen. Rather, it leads to an enormous difference attitudinally and effectively. A healthy self-esteem has to be ultimately and ir-revocably rooted in our Father's love, climaxed in his victory in Jesus. This neither excessively highlights, nor denies, my daily sinful weakness. Rather it leads to a consoling humiliation, found in a Father's forgiveness that is con- 321 :322 / Review for Religious, V~olume 39, 1980/3 stantly available in Jesus as my personal savior. In this way, the daily effect of my sinful condition is not to tear down self-worth, but to build up true apostolic humility, which itself is the source of genuine self-esteem. This positive understanding of the examen helps avoid another fallacy. Many times the full, rich prayer of the consciousness examen shrinks into a quick, superficial reflection over the day, and the five traditional elements of the examen thus collapse into the third element by itself--a general survey of the day's activities. The formal examen, however, was never intended to be just a quick thinking-over of the day. It is supposed to be prayer--and that within a fairly specific form, one related to the daily contemplation but not identical with it. And if the examen is to be chiefly about God's love for me, then gratitude should play a major affective role. Of course, it is the gratitude of a sinner who is at peace with the nothing he can do on his own, because he is still wonderfully learning how our Father's love turns everything to good--even his own sinfulness. The Examen Is Essential to Availability In the conclusion of his letter to the Society. of Jesus on "apostolic availabi_lity," Father General Pedro Arrupe made thi~ statement: To become partly immobile through lack of availability on the part of individuals and the consequent fear of superiors to give them the missions called for by our apostolate today, would constitute a most serious threat to the very existence of our vocation . lgnatian availability is the guarantee and the conditio sine qua non of our practice, which leads to salvation, and alone is of interest to the Society and the Church. A strong claim! My central point here is that the daily examen is the primary means to maintain this disposition of Ignatian and, indeed, of all apostolic availability. Even so, why should a brief period of prayer assume such great impor-tance? This leads us to another insight often neglected in the past. The formal examen-prayer, with its five elements, (usually) lasting about a quarter-hour, is always a means to the informal examen, which is a special faith-sensitivity that is with one all through the day. Often in our early years, we have turned the formal examen-prayer into an end-in-itself, giving to it a rigid fidelity that corrupted its significance. Of course it would be illusory to imagine that we can grow into living the informal examen=sensitivity without the early development of habitual practice of the formal examen and a con-tinuing adaptation of our involvement with this type of daily prayer. Through the informal examen, a person acquires a special ability for discerning (or examining) "presence" in everything. For Ignatius, this quality-presence was more important and extensive than the formal examen-prayer, inasmuch as this presence helps the person to recognize ,the grace of apostolic availability and flexibility that is being'offered in every situation. Apostolic availability is a profound faith-experience that roots one's iden-tity and security in God's love. When a person's security is too rooted in a job The Check on Our A vailability: The Examen / 323 or a place, or even a certain reputation, there results a stubborn rigidity that undermines his availability, just as availability canequally be undermined by a disordered need for change and variety--as when a person is so superficially committed that he really doesn't care whether he's changed or where he's assigned. In that same letter, Father Arrupe pointed up some of the challenges for what we have termed apostolic availability that are especially present in the new directions, institutional involvements and types of service that are re-quired in the modern world. What is fundamental; though, is that availability ¯ is primarilya readiness and sensitivity of heart, not simply a changing of job and/or place. In the heart of a person serving for many years.in the same mis-sion there can be an availability that is very apostolic and invigorating~--and often more difficult than the "availability" that leads to a new assignment. Apostolic availability and genuine perseverance in the same task orplace can never be opposed. In the formal examen, we hold up our day to be seen against the light of God's love. Sometimes this will be more instructive for us than was the experience itself., We may appreciate what we didn't even see in the actual experien.ce. At other times, we can savor the depths implicit in our sensitivity in the actual experience of the day. The continuing informal examen makes us sen-sitive in every situation to a Father's love that is always available, makes us ready to respond in filial 10ve to the Father's desire, as Jesus was--especially on Calvary. At such a point of insight, we see how often our cowardice or disordered desires reveal us to be persons of the "Second Class" (Spiritual Exercises, 154), who seek to make God come to what we desire. This is precisely backwards: consolation and greater apostolic service are to be found in our coming to what God desires. The sensitivity of apostolic availability distinguishes the heart ofa person of the "Third Class" from one of the "Second Class." The difference can become very subtle in one's interior af-fective life, but what~is always at issue is nothing less than better service for the justice of God's kingdom. Availability and Discernment In our sinful human condition, apostolic availability does not at all come naturally to us, but often is born of our decisive dealing with desolation in ac-cordance with the principles of Ignatian discernment. The seven capit.al sins, as inner affective experiences (.before we intentionally act on them), are each a type of desolate violence endemic to our sinful condition. They infringe on, and restrict the freedom of our availability. In decisively going against this desolate violence (see Exercises319), we become interiorly available to God's loving and consoling attractiveness, which a!ways frees us for whatever his Heart desires of us now. In this way, Jesus' own decisive availability to his 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Father, in service to our world, is gradually born in our affectivity through our careful living, with all the subtlety of discernment, in the face of our inner, desolate violence. The daily examen is the most practical and regularmeans to practice, this discernment for availability. Our particular examen could then focus on the flaw or weakness that now is most keeping us from this fuller apostolic availability. What is that flaw or weakness? It is not so much something that we decide on, but rather what God will reveal: to us in his loving concern that all of us should belong to him ~ver more totally. By responding to his call through the particular examen, and directing our attention and effort primarily against that flaw or weakness, we are allowing ourselves to be drawn more into the apostolic availability of Jesus where he and we best find the Father. The Examen: An Action-Reflection Model Apostolic renewal is not simply being able to get more done. Apostolic ac-tivity is not measured simply in quantity, but must respond to the dictates of a wise sensitivity in the zealous lover of God. A certain degree of.reflectivity is essential to the growth of this sensitivity. Although in the beginning this reflectivity may seem labored and artificial, as one matures in the Spirit it becomes more integrated, less obvious, and part of the "presence" one has everywhere. There is much talk about various action-reflection models to help renew our apostolic presence, and, indeed, some such model can be an essential instrument and method for apostoli~ religious formation from the novitiate onward. I suggest that the examen is precisely such an action-reflection instru-ment, one that is built right into our daily life, and capable of fostering apostolic availability as a whole way of life open to service to the needs of our world for God's greater glory. In these models, we reflect on our experience, hoping that the reflection will lead us to better quality in our apostolic efforts. Hence the reflection is never for itself, nor directed to a self-centered sanctification, Often in the past, the examen did not have an hpostolic orientation, ~but tended to a suf-focating introspection. As we mature in outpractice Of the examen, the separate steps of action-reflection-action integrate into a sensitivity of presence in the activity that makes us available in everything for the call of our Father's love, in whatever way he desires for his greater glory in our world. Just as the routine and regularity of the daily order help to keep the con-templative monk attuned to God, so the examen can keep the apostolic religious, who is both active and contemplative, a~ttuned to God's love, and allow us, mortified by apostolic availability, to find in everything of this world a son's filial, loving service of his Father. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation Carl F. Stark/off,' S.J.~ Father Starkloff's last article in our pages, "Oppression, Death and Liberation: Thoughts in a Context," appeared in the issue of November, 1978. He continues as superior and director of St. Stephens Indian Mission; P.O. Box 294; St. Stephens, WY 82524. The', title of the recently published National CatecheticalDirectory--Sharing The Light of Faiths'is more provocative than one might think upon first sight, if one reads it as a missionary statement. It can be interpreted in the light of a eatechesis that is meant tO instruct Catholics in the faith handed on through baptism. But if we examine those places in the DireCtory that dis'cuss the relationship between faith and culture,' we may be sufficiently disturbed to make us probe more deeply the rfieaning of what it is to share our faith. To speak of the missionary apostolate brings to mind the turbulent history of the exegesis of the so-called "Great Commission" in Matthew 28:18-20, which is placed on the lips of the risen Christ as he sends forth his joyous (though not yet spiritually rejuvenated) disciples to teach all nations about the source of their joy. This gospel mandate began a missionary enterprise that sent preachers of the Good News throughout the known world and outward to the barbarians of northern Europe, the East and to the far-off British Isles. J. Verkuyl points out that the early reformers, probably because of their sense of urgency to establish their movement among European Christians, wanted (mistakenly) to restrict Jesus' mandate to the time of the Apostolic Age.2 The ~ Sharing the Light of Faith: National Catechetical Directory for Catholics of the I~lnited States (Washington: United States Catholic Conference, 1979). See especially pp. 7-16; 85-98; 116-119. 2 j. Verkuyl, Contemporary Missiology: An Introduction, tr. Dale Cooper (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1978), pp. 18-19. 325 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 nineteenth century, however, witnessed phenomenal growth in mission activi-ty among all Christian denominations, and the confident expansionist attitudes of the period endured up to the mid-point of, our own century. Today, however, there is a widespread "malaise" among missionaries, as Walbert Buhlmann puts it, though he is careful to note that such a condition is one environment that can nurture hope.~ In any case, there is a c'risis of confidence in the Church's self-image as a "sent" community, and the crisis extends back from the mission frontiers into families and communities, and into individual souls, as Christians question their right and duty to "spread the Gospel." This is a cultural and theological crisis that offers promise of much growth in understanding of the relationship between faith-proclamation and cultural sharing, or, to view it from the dark side, between preaching the Good News and cultural imperialism. A great quantity of material is flowing, from the pens of missiologists about this prob-lem, and there are various theories dealing with the faith-culture question. I have shared in this effort elsewhere. This article, however, is an attempt at a "spirituality" that might further an experiential approach to faith and culture as it is rooted in the life of prayer. Fundamentally, prayer is at the root of this crisis that touches catechesis in the "established" Church, and ,even touches relationships between parents and children. Chesterton wrote somewhere that to deny the right of parents to teach religion to their children is to deny them the right to teach them anything. If our prayer lacks conviction, we are easy prey to dp~bts about this right and duty. In this article, I do not intend to discuss whether there should be missions; I happen to believe there should be. Nor do I intend to take up the much-debated question of a "moratorium on missions"; 1 happen to believe that missions are part and parcel of Christianity. That "mission" should be done differently, with consideration of mutual'resources and values between the missionary and the local culture is beyond iluestion.And that mission should cease to be mission and become church is a prominent New Testament value articulated by St. Paul in his dealing~ with theJocal churches. But amid all the discussion of liberation and oppression, of imperialism and colonialism, of faith and culture, there shines the Light at the center, who is Jesus Christ--the only ultimate justification for all missions. The love of God as manifested in him must be preached-- no doubt in a~.growing way much more by Africans and Asiatics and Other third world people t.o p~eople of the first and second worlds. But they, too, must heed their calling to be transparent mes~sengers. The transparency of which I speak is primarily a question of the missionary's "spiritual life, and that is the subject of this article. A recent b~ok on mission spirituality stresses the importance of the mis-" sionary's life-style for his or her witness to the Gospel. Michael Reilly writes: ~ Walbert Buhlmann, O.F.M., Cap., The Coming of the Third Church, trans. Ralph Woodhall, S.J. (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1977), p. 405. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 327 How can the life-styles of these countless men and women who did so much to spread Christianity in the early centuries be described? There is no lack of testimony and evidence on this point. It can be summarized under five categories: the transformation and moral uprightness of their personal lives, their fellowship and social concern for others, their joy, their endurance under hardship and persecution, and the power which they exercised by virtue of their faith.' This iri general speaks of the awesome demands laid upon the missioi~er. Certainly no mission labors c~in be sustained without these qualities, to which we will more explicitly add perseverance in profound daily prayer, even and especially amid the many "dark nights" that cultural conflicts can create or intensify. The growih in a person's ~n spiritual life should be a continuing conv'er-sion in the intellectual, moral and religious orders, of which Bernard Lonergan writes in the transcendental phenomenology of his theological method.~ Missionaries above all, because they confront so many new and challenging experiences, must undergo such conversion, which is fed by, and, in return, nourishes a gospel-centered awareness. The,apostle must have also that unqualified, unreserved "being in love with God" that Lonergan calls religious faith,6 and this faith should be anchored in the historical reality that is:Christianity. Lonergan writes: ""There is a personal entrance of God himself into history, a communication of God to his people, the advent of God's word into the world of religious expression.'" The missionary will have to apply this dynamic of constant growth to cultural realities and religious values, as well as to his or.her own sources of spiritual power, experiencing these with both.pas-sionate involvement and prayerful detachment. The title "missionary" is not only audacious and shocking; it is unforgivably arrogant unless one assumes in it the motive that stems from the experienCed knowledge of Jesus Christ as the embodied presence of God's love in the world. This love incarnate becomes most explicit in the various' gospel texts that order the proclamation of salvation to all peoples. To preach eternal salvation is fundamental to all missionary zeal. But because salvation is incarnate for the Christian, his preaching cannot merely" project salvation into eternity, disembodied and unattached. The Good News calls people to ex-perience God's love and kindness within temporal existence, Otherwise, why take creation with any seriousness, at all? Our reading of the various reports of the life. and work of Jesus of Nazareth has been conditioned by our catechetical upbringing. We have learned to see Jesus as laying down his life when.he wills to do so, meanwhile battling with the scribes and pharisees in their apparent hypocrisy and their intransigent insistence on external conduct. But it is to the credit of the Michael Collins Reilly, S.J., Spirituality For Mission (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1978), p. 53. Bernard J. F. Lonergan, Method in Tti'eology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 3-25. Ibid., p. 105, ' Ibid., p. 119. 32~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 "liberation theologians" that they have forced us to become aware of the pervasive and persistent struggle of Jesus to win for the poor of Yahweh a humane existence, snatching their lives from the hands of powers that oppress them with needless burdens and joyless, unwarranted submissiveness to human domination. Thus missionary zeal is summoned to examine itself about its concern for a basic humaneness of life; it should feel great pain whenever the Good News is kept from persons because they are humiliated and demeaned, when they suffer oppression or oppress one another. Indeed, our spiritual resources must be strong enough to make us believe that faith can thrive under oppression, but our contemplation of the Gospel also shows us that Jesus fought conditions that enslaved people, Jesus' mission, and that of the Church, is to work for the conditions that permit a joyous and free wor-ship of God. This is a profound social dimension of the Gospel that more and more who read it are coming to perceive. For the prayerful and devout Christian, one of the most urgent motives-- perhaps the motive--for mission.activity, at least in the year~; of Catholic and Protestant missions since the sixteenth century, has been the brooding con-templation of countless hordes of souls going to hell because they did not con-fess Jesus Christ. With the reflective work of modern theology and Vatican Council 1I (rooted incidentally in some very good and very old "natural theology"!), we may still have concern for our neighbor's salvation, but there is also the opportunity for a more enlightened appreciation of the values to be found in the religious traditions of all peoples, and for a more modest assess-ment of the spiritual condition of the non-Christian. This appreciation of the spiritual values of other religion, along with the sense of a Gospel permeated with social values, leaves mission theorists with the task of formulating new attitudes towards the mission apostolate. In fact, this qualifying of the sense of missionary urgency has led to a growing spiritual crisis for many church people, most especially those in an active mission apostolate. Toward a Missionary Spirituality The approach to prayer that I hav~ chosen to discuss here is one that might help the follower of Christ to find "seeds of the word" and a means of salva-tion in the religions of non-Christians or in elements of tribal spirituality not explicitly Christian. At the same time, however, it seems to me a nullification of the Christian vocation to deny or to bypass the person of Jesus Christ, taken both historically and in the Pauline cosmic dimension, as the fullness of divine grace intended to be the Father's greatest gift to humanity. 1 do not say this as a scriptural or dogmatic fundamentalist: the praying Christian should also be an inquirer into the more sophisticated areas of comparative religion and scripture scholarship. Still, whatever level of hermeneutics we may under-take, the New Testament constantly reminds us that courteous dialogue with non-Christians is only part of our calling. The prayerful realization of what Christ means in my life can do no less than move me to tell my dialogue Missionary Player and the Problem of Inculturation / 329 partner how utterly central Christ is for me. What the other does with his ex-perience of my witness is a matter of his personal decision, always to be respected. But that person should know that my life of prayer has shone out through my personal testimony and conduct. Juan Luis Segundo has proposed a helpful approach to the centrality of Christ and tile witness of the Church. He reminds us that the principle "no salvation outside the Church" should not be taken as a matter of church boundaries but rather that it deals with the mediatory role of the Church.8 Segundo calls the Churcha reality at once particular (pertaining to cultural realities), since it is a historical movement serving as a sacrament, and univer-sal, since it serves as a medium of salvation: "It is the expression of the mystery of Christ himself.''9 In Christ the missionary preaches God's love to people, and if he feels unable to broadcast the triumphalistic boast that no one outside the Church will be saved, he is still conscious of the unique gift of Christ. Segundo calls the Christian "one who knows"-- knows Christ as the beginning of the Father's plan that moves into the future and permeates all of time. The Christian is not the only one to enter into this plan, but he is the one who knows it through Revelation.'° This is anything but a revival of primitive gnosticism; it is rather a consciousness (grounded in prayer) of the gift of sav-ing knowledge and the acceptance of a calling found through hearing the Word of God. Such a "knowledge" given.to the Christian is the content as well as the experience of conversion, a living faith that Lonergan calls an "other-worldly falling in love."" What the Christian knows then becomes the driving force for the labor of proclamation. It is, for one thing, a deeply biblical spirituality, for our encounter with the Word of God in Scripture and preaching is our summons to mission. However, I have chosen here to offer a more particular approach or method based on resources within my own Jesuit order, hoping that these resources will serve others in developing a mission-centered prayer life. Recent documents of the Society of Jesus remind us that the Jesuit's self-knowledge is found in the sense of being a sinner who is nonetheless called to be a companion of Jesus.'2 We redeemed sinners are by vocation a "com-munity of dispersion," ready to be sent on mission." The basic dynamic of this vocation, paralleling similar resources in other communities, is the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius o( Loyola, which, made, serve to mediate the gospel-conversion-mission experience. Examining the experience of conversion and mission, we immediately con- 8 Juan Luis Segundo, S.J., Tr. John Drury, A Theology For Artisans of a New Humanity (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1973), Vol. I, p. 76. 9 Ibid., p. 78. ,o Ibid., p. 13. " Lbnergan, Op. Cit., p. 240, ,2 See Documents of The 31st and 32rid General Con.gregations of the Society o f Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), p. 401. ,3 Ibid., p. 405. 330 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 front the problem/mystery of Christ and culture, of the universal sway and dominion of the Risen Christ .and the particular authenticity of cultural values. Indeed, the Exercises are themselves a partictilar cultural phenomenon within which the Christian faith is rekindled and nourished, and which have proved themselves to contain certain universal values. One who truly receives the liberating love of God in the Exercises comes in touch with the sovereign God in a discovery so powerfully expressed by Karl Barth: The love of God stands where there is disclosed, beyond and above and in the twofold negation, the preeminent affirmation--Jesus Christ, the .Resurrection and the Life~ Blessed discovery! God stands in light inaccessible. Blessed discovery! All flesh is as grass and all the glory of men is as the flower of the field. When, in spirit and truth, one of these discoveries is made, the other is involved in it, for both are in fact operations of the One God, whose universal majesty is the "Yes" in the"No.'"' The gift of a knowledge0of the love of God is so moving and powerful (perhaps in a very quiet way), that it is no wonder that enemies of the lgnatian Exercises have called them a brainwashing. The radical freedom of Christian conversion, as Barth so stirringly tells it above, calls us into a permanent state of tension. This tension is made up of what, to borrow from a number of spiritual writers, we might call "moments" of the Exercises--the two moments of conversion and of mission, I call them moments in the sense that they are kairoi, transcendent of any chronological order; they are experienced in an interweaving rather than in succession, and not merely in time of retreat but in the insertion into comrhunity and ministry. In the Exercises, the first truth one comes to grips with is God's sovereign-ty over one's life and destiny. One has to wrestle with and deeply assent to the fact that we are created to praise, reverence:and serve God, and thus come to salvation. I use the word "wrestle" here because the ascesis of,the Exercises contains much wrestling (though in the end we seethe folly of all this muscle!); no human being readily surrenders his or her own sovereignty andautonomy to anyone, even to God. Nor should they readily surrender. We are persons gifted with dignity, and until we realize that this dignity can be brought to final perfection in God alone, through obedience rather than abject slavery (an important reflection in ministry to the oppressed), we should not sur-render our autonomy. Yet we finally do have to surrender to God as Chris-tians, having,wrestled with him and been so wounded that we manifest in our very steps, as Jacob did, the divine-human struggle that eventuates in our ob-taining his blessing. Then the believer, too, becomes an Israel who realizes that all this effort was part of a foolish bout with God's love. I wish to return to this matter of conversion later, for it is the genuine source of crisis (under-stand "decision") in the missionary's grasp'of problems of culture and social justice. Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, tr. Edwyn Hoskyas (London: Oxford University Press, 1965), p. 321. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of lnculturation / 331 Once the Christian has yielded to divine sovereignty (or arrived at a stage of acceptance, for the faith-choice that expresses this yielding occurs many times in "becoming a Christian"), he has again accepted the reality of his own sinfulness--the disobedience, the recalcitrance, the anger at God's insistence on submission. There goes with this an even more difficult acceptance of divine love, for within our sinfulness we find an inability to let ourselves be loved, and even glory in perversely thinking about God's "No" to us and fear His "Yes." With the opening to grace we rejoice in that essential Christian ex-perience of acceptance of self as loved by God. The loving power of Christ is the "tree of life" that nourishes our circle of existence at its very center--a powerful Amerindian image that indicates a wholeness of life based on devo-tion to its source. But the moment of conversion is hardly complete with repentance, or with the return of the prodigal. The once-lost younger son will discover now the meaning of mature membership in his father's household, that it is shared life and companionship, but also involvement in the labor and the suffering. Such a call to deeper filial piety may well bethe sequel to the Prodigal Son parable, in which the erring but more attractive younger son is equalized with the dour older brother who we all quietly tend to scorn. The sin in all of us resists true belonging. Thi~ is why the SpiritualExercises lead the Christian to understand what it is for Christ to be a "King" in our lives, for him to have a loving sovereignty 'rather than by an imperious and aloof barking of orders that avoids deeper ih~,olvement. David Fleming describes the Meditation on the Kingdom of Christ as the placing of oneself into a "mythical situation, or the kind of story-truth of which fairy tales are made."'~ One seeks to know Christ in whatever fashion one may need in ~order to bring home the fact of his lord-ship. The meditation on Christ's kingdom is thus thematic forall contemplation of the life, death and. resurrection of Christ. All the while meditating on the ministry of Jesus, a retreatant prays for the grace to know him more intimately, to love him with grea~er intensity and to follow him more closely. One can begin to attempt this radical Christian prayer, having first meditated on the mystery of the Incarnation, which we shall later take as the basic model for the missionary apostolate. St. Ignatius presents the Incarnation con~ templation as a mental trylStich, representing the Godhead in heaven, humani-ty struggling on earth, and the young woman of Nazareth who assents to the mysterious calling to' archtypically stand for every Christian's response to God. This meditation enters into the second moment, or moment of mission, but first of all it reminds the Christian that the essential grace to be gained from meditating on the life of Christ is "an interior knowledge of the '~ David L. Fleming, SoJo The Spiritual Exercises: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978), p. 65. 332 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Lord, who for me has become man, that I may more love and follow him.'''6 This "for me" (so dear to St. Ignatius-- as well as to Martin Luther!) is the ex-pression of faith in a God who never remains for himself alone but perpetually gives of himself. It is the expression of the love of a missionary God. As the Christian enters more deeply into the mystery of the Incarnation, he realizes how much of the sinner hangs on, and how the moment of conversion is ever-present. As the Meditation on the Two Standards or Two Leaders-- Christ and Satan- shows us, the threat of fear and pride and exaltation of the false self is never far away. Within the gospel accounts one also contemplates types of persons who experience different degrees of submission to God, and so asks himself in what way this reflection applies personally to one's life. As the dread reality of St. Luke's journey to Jerusalem looms up, the Christian is made to realize, along with St. Matthew's newly appointed head of the Church, the still unconverted :Simon Peter, that each one of us shares in that journey. Somewhere within this period of meditation, St. Ignatius' Three Modes of Humility challenge the follower of Christ with the call not merely to avoid all sin, but to enter into his poverty and humiliation and suffering-~-to share fully in his mission. The Third Week of the Exercises is an entering into the fullest meaning of the passion of Christ, not merely with tears of empathy but with readiness for full association. The apostolic moment of the Exercises is mysteriously present here: one comes to sense the many possible challenges that could in the future demand a personal appropriation of the kenosis of the Son of God. Once again, the Christian may fear Christ and remain_ sitting outside the Garden of Olives, only to fall asleep, to avoid the grim strain of apprehension. Or, the disciple might insist with Peter that he will never betray Jesus, and almost in the same moment deny even being with him. We thus discover that it was a relatively simple matter to love God in a childish way as our understand-ing Father, in contrast to our acceptance of his Son as an intimate friend. Friendship can demand so much, and we fear the maturity that it requires, especially when we find that the Son of God, in his hour of greatest need, calls his disciples "friends." This is the opportunity to pass even more dramatically through the ever-deepening dying of "becoming a Christian," which, as Kierkegaard wrote, is all that we ever do in relation to Christ; we never fully "arrive" in this life. But if the Christian perseveres in prayer, there may come, finally, the gift of identification ~,ith Christ in which the cloak of sinfulness falls away and true companionship is accepted. If the Christian embraces the mystery of the cross (according to his or her own personal vocation), there comes that peace which pervades one's prayer at the. entrance to the sepu!chre. A true Christian is a child of the Resurrection, an heir to the joys of the Ibid., p. 70. Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 333 triumphant Christ, and a bearer of that joy. The Christian contemplates and absorbs the spirit of the risen life as the spirit of his own life, and, according to Ignatius, reaches holiness through sharing the joy of the Friend who has defeated death. It should be no surprise that this experience, too, is a conver-sion in the intellectual, moral and religious dimensions of life. We do not easily accept joy in our lives, or the fact that we are created for joy, as C. S. Lewis was astonished to discover. In the face of the grief in the world (and, if we are idealistic missionaries or social activists, our own tenden-cy to take too seriously our personal warfare with all this grief), we find it hard to transform our, solemn frowns into laughter of rejoicing. Perhaps we cannot but think of God as the Ruler of Olympus who becomes jealous of our hubris at thinking we might ever simply be happy. And there is that temptation to sadness in the anticipation of apostolic struggles. So conversion to Christian joy, and the mission to share that joy, are again telescoped into two moments of one experience. St. Ignatius did not leave us simply to contemplate the Resurrection with the first disciples. He has bequeathed to us the Contemplation for Obtaining Divine Love, which is summed up in God's desire to share himself with his friends. There is given here a recapitulation of all good gifts that descend from the Father of Lights in whom there is no shadow, (Jm 1:16-17). We consider all gifts received, and more, we affirm ourselv~es as gifts of God's favor. A joy-filled Christian can thus say: Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my intellect, and all my will--all that 1 have and possess. You gave it to me;to you, Lord, 1 return it. All is yours, dispose of it according to your will. Give me only your love and grace, for this is enough for me." This contemplation also expresses an aspect of the apostolic moment, both in the call to offer one's gifts in the divine Service, and in the vision of God dwelling in and giving life to all creatures. The consideration of the labor of God within all things helps to feel his presence as the very life of the ministry. There is here, too, a profound theodicy that enlightens the missionary about the working of the Holy Spirit in all created reality, where the Word is somehow present before his preaching even begins. It is a great blessing for an aspiring young missionary (or an older one seeking renewal) to be able to sum up his spiritual experience with the vision of all good gifts descending from above--the gifts of justice, goodness, pity and mercy--"as from the sun des-cend the rays, from the fountains the waters." This is ongoing conversion in the highest sense. The Translation of Prayer Into Mission Let us get "practical" about all of this. Where does one go missiologically Ibid., p. 140. 334 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 with the experience of conversion-mission? If I am a redeemed sinner, saved by God from my own self-oppression as well as from the,oppression of false spirits, l am under a mandate t~ p.roclaim that experience to all people. Fur-ther, as Barth has written, we have surrendered our old way of thinkingto the divine "No" and thus ~have been .renewed in a life of grace through His "Yes." To believe that one is saved is the ultimate experience of freedom, and if one has been gifted with a share in God's holiness, he may even sense a call to relinquish homeland and culture in order to announce that freedom to others. Such a state of soul is a great gift and a great mystery; it is also a great problem, and without ongoing intellectual conversion, can leave one open to many deceptions. There is hidden in this experience the danger that the con-verted Christian will interpret some of the chltural trappings of his conversion as essential to conversion itself. In fact, I woul,d venture the guess that much of the zeal to save "savages" has arisen from an uneducated state of mind in x, relation to what one sees as their "unhappy and primitive state." Metanoia in its most profound etymological sense must be part of any missionary prepara-tion and part of an ongoing learning process. Perhaps the most helpful spiritual approach to a missionary openness to foreign experiences is faith in the Incarnation as a continuing contemplation. So St. Ignatius' Meditation on the Incarnation might well serve as the fun-damental reflection of the apostolic moment of the Exercises.lncarnational theology has, of course, been thematic in the thought of theologians and in Church documents since Vatican Council II. Its frame of reference is the historical context of gospel proclamation, which stresses the service of Christ and his Church to .the temporal order, and the hope this service offers to humanity for a more truly di~,ine-human life. A healthy incarnationalism is also eschatoiogical, and in its optimism does not forget the reality of sin. It realizes that God's becoming human does not empty him of his transcendence but rather gifts humanity with a share in that transcendence. In simple w~ords, the Incarnation has its total fulfillment outside history and awaits the kingdom of God in faith even as it expresses its presence already. In. the con-rex: of missiology, incarnational theology proclaims the en-flesh-ment of God within cultures, and challenges all cultures to reach beyond themselves. Ignatius Loyola was a man of great sensitivity to the ways in which the Gospel is to be received humanly, as his instruction for the use of the senses in prayer attests. The Contemplation on the Incarnation is an experience of the divine entering history, of the Good News transforming human cultures and confronting the evils that threaten what is truly of God's creation in them. ln-culturation does pose a tension, if not even a dilemma, for the Christian, as I have already indicated. The zealous missionary who is filled with a desire to show Christ's love to the world iS a person who has acquired the gift of detach-ment from a familiar environment, though perhaps not to the degree he may think he has acquired it. Even the most dedicated Christian carries his or her native culture along as mental and affective baggage, and tends to extend that Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 335 culture, along with the Gospel, to other peoples. To offer the good things of one's own culture to others is a natural and authentic aspiration, if one is aware that these things are not coextensive with the Good News of Christ. This awareness can come only from a deep study'of the culture and from a "participation" in it to whatever degree is compatible with Christianity. Another factor of great importance is the relationship the Christian, has towards the people to whom he is missioned,. There is a danger that one will project one's own degree of commitment into these people, and thus expect of them too soon that same kind of response. Likewise, to compare one's own "surrender" or submission to God, acquired with the help of many cultural blessings and advantages, to the enslavement of oppressed peoples and its concomitant apathy or resistance, is of course a tragic confusion of entirely different experiences. Worse yet, one might even miss the signs of a people's dedication simply out of a failure to comprehend their ways of expressing it. However, meditation on the Incarnation, if we supplement it with proper cultural training, inserts us into the saving love°of the Godhead as well as into the infinite patience and empathy of Jesus Christ, who met people "where they were," living with them in their struggles and calling them to converison. Christ never destroyed or shattered a person's life, however great a shock he may have dealt, but rather uplifted and sanctified the life of every person. In the Contemplat!on on the Incarnation, St. Ignatius in. structs the retreat-ant to "see" the various persons in the eye of the imagination: "those on the surface of the earth, in such variety in dress and in actions; some white and others black; some in peace and others in war; some weeping and others laughing; some well, others ill; some being born,, and others dying . ,,,8 One is to continue by imagining how so many live in blindness, how they swear and blaspheme, how th6y kfli and go down to hell. And in the same mental exer-cise, we are shown how Father, Son and Holy Spirit conspire to work out the salvation of the suffering human race, and how the messenger Gabriel goes to speak to the Virgin of Nazareth. Whatever Ignatius had in mind as he described the misery of our race (in his own cultural terms!), and however we may have evolved in our attitudes about,how many benighted pagans are going into damnation, a sensitive response to his vision of a suffering humanity draws one deeply into a sharing of the human condition. The point here is that human beings have always injured and oppressed one another in various ways; but the much stronger aspect of this truth(See St. Paul'spollo mallon in Romans 5.) is that all types and cultures, all races and .nationalities, enter into the divine compassionate vision and its willto save and transform. Those who are to be saved will be saved as black or white or red or yellow, whether they wear three-piece-suits or loincloths or nothing at a!l, whether their music is rendered by pipe organs or jazz bands or ancient drums. We do not really know what God has in mind to Ibid., p. 72. 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 do with diversity in the kingdom of heaven; we do know that he has a total disregard for differences as far as the equal dispensation of his kindness is concerned. Thus a meditation on the Incarnation, if carried through with full involve-ment, takes a missionary into the midst of the culture he serves. It prods him to study anthropology and sociology and comparative religion, both in books and in lived exp~erience, as well as to do all that is necessary tomake him atten-tive, intelligeni, reasonable and responsible. It serves as the affective nourish-ment of all the intellectual and procedural efforts one may bring to work in a foreign culture. It would seem, therefore, that a missioner's own prayer life would change, to some degree, along cultural lines: An openness and sensi-tivity to the people will lead to a sharing of indigenous forms of prayer and worship. No matter how hard 1 may try, I will never become a Native American or South African black or campesino, especially if the culture I serve has a history of deep Wounds inflicted by the very society and church I represent. This should in fact be an initial experience of inculturation--to realize that onb is a foreigner or guest, or better, a pilgrim, and that one naturally resists becoming part of a new culture, especially in its startling and strange aspects. But still, we ~can take on many qualities of our environment, and should do so if they insert us better into the life of the people and help us to grow personally. Generally, the first experience of mission life for the outsider is one of conflict. This is emphatically true of all who enter into work among societies suffering from powerful structures and histories of persecution or cultural invasion. To become part of a wounded culture is to absorb inevitably the feel-ings of frustration, anger and despair; to experience the "diminishment" that occurs within as one responds again and again to expressions of these negative feelings. There may also be a deep dissatisfaction with oneself over the failure to remain tranquil and "understanding" in the face of such assaults. The mis-sionary must then turn, in a way perhaps never before experienced, but anticipated in earlier prayer, to the reality of a suffering and dying Savior, who himself knew pain and rejection and the feeling of being an outsider. When'the Word pitched his tent among us, he certainly had to live as an alien in our midst, with disciples who failed to understand, with authorities who re-jected him, with hangers-on who melted away in the face of conflict. The mis-sionary can be helped spiritually, through intellectual resources and the study of the history of injustice or persecution in the area of hi~ activity. For exam-ple," in studying the near genocide of a number of ti'ibal cultures at the hands of invaders who made these people aliens in their own lands, the missionary can learn to approprihte the sense of weakness often felt by Christ himself in the face of the burdens of history. However, even in a badly wounded culture, one can experience gifts in greater number. Among many of the more traditional, or "primal," societies Missionary Prayer and the Problem of Inculturation / 337 of Africa or Asia or the Americas, can be found spiritual attitudes remarkably resonant with the Christian experience: creative suffering, prayer, contempla-t! on, worship forms, acceptance of death, ascetical practices. One can learn to appreciate the reverence of the people, the sense of appreciation for nature, the deep respect for spiritual realities. It is possible to learn to enjoy the music, the dance, the language, the good times, as they occur in a natural cycle of tribal events. Perhaps the missioner will even find in the new culture (not because he hates his own but because he loves it too) a new"sacred space" in which to be at home. As this occurs, one finds oneself both proclaiming and experiencing conversion. Missionary prayer is then truly coming to birth according to the mystery of the Incarnation. To sum up, then, Christian conversion is not a narrowing experience. While it focuses our gaze upon Christ as the Father's unique expression of love, it also constantly opens our horizons and leads us to greater social and cultural understanding. But the conversion process must be a composite of in-tellectual, moral and religious growth. Prayer alone will not achieve this, but without prayer the missionary is merely another cultural invader. A strongly incarnational prayer reminds one constantly that in Christ the Father has reconciled the divine and the human, and that we can indeed preach a transcendent faith that finds roots in local cultures. "When Did We See You?" Donald Macdonald, ,S. M.M. Fr. Ma~cdonald, master 6f novices for the Montfort Fathers, is stationed at the house of Maria Bhavan; D.R. College P.O.; Bangalore 560029; India. ~ watched a group of sisters, out walking, slowly pass a row of hovels. Out-side one of them, a little girl was squatting, cutting wood. Seeing the sisters approach, she put down her knife, joined her hands in the Indian way of greeting, and gave them a lovely smile. The sisters (presumably) never saw her. Three other sisters were walking some five or six yards further back, and I thought that perhaps one of them would have seen what happened, and so stop for a moment to make a fuss over the child. They, too, walked past. I still see the quizzical look on the child's face. Clearly, mistakes are easily made. It is also unfair and invalid to draw a general conclusion from a particular instance. But from years spent in pastoral ministry, not least with religious, I suggest that there may be more in that incident than many of us would care to see. Such insensitivity may be the rule rather than the exception. Those sisters may be like that even with each other. They just do not see. This same lack of insight may be a consistent feature of their everyday world: They may never really live in the present moment, and so miss so much of what is happening about them. If the mature person is "one whose center of gravity is where he actually is," it may explain the immaturity of some religious lives." What is needed is the ability to be both part of, and apart from, the present moment, to give oneself wholly in the present as an expression of a mature Christian faith. So much of religious life, especially as one gets older, can be so unsatisfactory for so many, because they are never really "alive." Any one, for example, who has ever been in the company of the present Holy Father, might judge that he is in fact a great parish priest of the time when such men 338 "'When Did We See You?" really knew their people. He is always aware of what is happening. Though he may be unable to speak to everyone individually, yet he neglects no one, regardless of how many are about him. What steps, therefore, can the religious take to try to become fully alive to the present as an expression of a mature Christian faith? Listen Like a Disciple Once upon a time, most religious began the day with a "morning offering." I suggest that this once-common custom should be revived to help give a precise focus to our day. A line adapted from Is 50:4 makes an ideal morning prayer: O Lord, give me a disciple's tongue. So that 1 may know how to reply to the weary, provide me with speech. Each morning, wake me to hea~, to listen like a disciple. We should pray that we may speak only what we have learned of God--a disciple's tongue. We beg that we may never ignore the weary, and so have something to say ~to the child, the~neglect of whom began these reflections. Ideally, we want to be able to answer the questions people dare not ask. We want to offer not just sympathy but empathy,, the ability to feel for and with these persons of our world. We must have time for those that n'o one else has time for. So important is this approach to the present moment, that we should ask God to wake us each morning to hear. But, more than that, we should ~vant to listen like a disciple. In whatever circumstances we are placed, we want to be aware of all that is happening, to assimilate our experience. The whole world is sacrament. Thus we are eager to listen like a disciple, to try and catch every, nuance and inflection of the world in which we live. Most of us share a com-mon degree of hearing and vision. What separates us one from another is insight, or the ability to respond to the unspoken word or gesture. Our prayer, therefore, should be that God would give us the sensitivity to be fully alive in our global village. Our center of gravity is ~vhere we actually are. A day begun with ~suCh a reflective prayer to God can ~urely help give definition to our approach to the present. If our minds progressively assimilate the assumptions underlying the prayer, experience, in whatever form it comes, will be integrated into our lives in God. Through Love in His Presence The religious may further deepen that basic insight, by attempting to share the grasp of reality found in the superb opening prayer of the letter to the Ephesians. There Paul's present situation is prison. The future prospects, in his estimate, probably included death by execut~ion.The past, an apostolic life of mixed fortunes, was evidently drawing to a close. In such circumstances :340 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 notice the approach of a mature Christian faith, and the astonishing balance given by such a center of gravity: "Blessed be God the Fathe~ of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all the spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ" (Ep 1:3). There, the first move is to God. And what a God--"the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ," who has given us everything. This, from a man in prison, towards the end of his life; no self-pity, nor justified disappointment, nor even the pretence of whistling in the cemetery to pretend he is not scared. His perspective is anchored in "God the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ." Whata marvelously expansive opening to a prayer from a man shut in, and about to lose his career and his life. Then his faith, grasping reality,, takes him almost beyond the limits of imagination to the point of saying: "before the world was made he chose us, chose us in Christ" (Ep 1:4). The sense of awe and wonder is evident as it dawns on him, "the very least of all the saints" (Ep 3:8), that these moments of life have been given him by God. The immediate present is received as a gift from God in Christ offered before even the world was made. How does one quantify love on a scale like that? From this perspective, the present moment is an expression of the depth of the love of God for us that is quite literally beyond computation. One just receives and adores. To the extent that I can share this outlook, I allow God to love me in the present moment. Receiving life as so charged with the love of God, 1, too, deepen my capacity to love. I do not know when I first knew God, but from "before the world was made" God knew and loved me. The present moment is the focus of such love, where I "live through love in his presence" (Ep 1:4). This, l suggest, can be the center of gravity of a mature Christian faith. His Spirit Living in You Following Saint Paul, the religious can go still deeper into the present moment. "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?" (l Co 3:16). Individually or collectively, God is present among us in the only way that is real to us--through knowledge and love. Anything else is superficial. The point is given added emphasis when we remember that the word translaied "temple" i~s no(our word for Church, b~t rather, "tabernacle." "God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us" (Rm 5:5). Religious, aware of God so present to them and in them, could only respond in wonder and awe. Their very personality would reflect adoration. "Your body, you .know, is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you since you received him from God" (l Co 6:19). If the religious truly listened like a disciple to words like that, the love of God, found in the present moment, would take them to !he heights, and give them "the strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth, until knowing the love of Christ which is beyond all knowledge, ~you are filled with the utter fullness of God" (Ep 3:19). "When Did We See You?" / 341 For the Praise of His Glory Despite possible appearances to the contrary, the above approach to reality, stemming from an understanding of baptism, is simplicity itself. It has to be if it is to center on the present moment. Here the religious is never in the position of the harassed motorist driving at night, and trying to cope with all the signals he is receiving at a busy road junction. Nor is it an artificial con-struct pieced together from a possibly outdated literary-form. Quite simply the religious is aware that he is loved by God. He has always been present to God. Life is God's gift to him, moment by moment. In responding to life so given, all that is deepest in him echoes awe, adoration and love. Thus does he begin to sound the depths of "the unfathomablk riches of Christ" (Ep 3:8). Aware of the presence of God within him, he believes that with that gift he has received everything (see Rm 8:32). As the reality of this dawns on him, the love of Christ overwhelms him, as he begins to see that "for anyone who is in Christ, there is a new creation" (2 Co 5:14,17). His center of gravity is moving gradually from self to Christ. Inescapably, and often at a level beyond words, his faith expresses itself in love, adoration, gratitude. In time, as he continues to allow God to 10ve him,his "life is hidden with Christ in God" (Col 2:3), so that, however imperfectly, he realizes, as a baptized Christian, "I live now not with my own life but with the life of Christ who lives in me" (Ga 2:20). Thus he tries to allow God full play in his life. As many religious know, such an approach to the present moment comes to be as natural as breathing. It is the normal, prosaic everyday basis of his life. It is the common coin he uses moment by moment. Living therefore in Christ in a sacramenthl world, one lives in the presence of God, not at some degree removed from him, as though he were a spectator. The smile and greeting of the child which provoked these reflections, can be seen as an expression of the love of God. Her puzzlement as she was ignored was surely an echo of the rejection of the love of God. The insensitivity of the religious presented a glimpse of Christ handicapped, unable to express his love for the child in that instance (see Ph 3:18). Attempting to listen like a disciple to what God might be saying in an incident that was over in seconds, one realizes all too well that, in addition to the above, there may be other inferences. Lord, in the child and the religious do I see you and me? Do I see your love always expressing itself in the most unlikely situations--and my response? Again, is that how I am to the people who come into my life? This reflection does not depersonalize the child, nor take from her her integrity as a human being. She is not a cipher. But viewed from the stand-point of Christian baptism, which is the basis and point of religious life, it is surely not illegitimate for us to deepen the realiz~ation that we are loved by God, that, as a result, we must "owe no one anything, except to love one another" (Rm 13:8). We are in debt, therefore, to everyone we meet, as we can never adequately repay love. There is perhaps no more exacting test of the authenticity of one's faith. The Threat and,the Thrill of Dominion Labour# Beneviile, S.C.C. Sister Labour~ teaches at Delone Catholic High School; S. Oxford Ave.; McSherrystown, PA 17344 Let us m~ike man in our image, after our likeness. Let him have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and the cattle, and over all the wild animals and all the creatures that crawl on the ground (Gn 1:26). In the light of the Genesis account, we know ourselves to be the hallmark of the creative power of God who transformed the darkness over the a~yss; the God who shaped the formless waste which was the earth; the God who made light to dispel the darkness; the God whose touch brought forth vegetation and seeds of every kind. Custodians of creation, we are challenged to find joy and fulf!llment in this awesome burden of nurturing the universe. To do so, however, we must discern the subtleties of our behaviorand try to strip away any repressive thought patterns which distort our presence to reality. By un-consciously excluding that which is painful, fearful, or even sublime, repres-sion is the ego's means of scaling down life-- that is, of reducing ffc~th terror and ecstasy to something within our control. From infancy on, we have been schooled to block out that which either threatens or diminishes our own stature; thus anxiety is minimized and we are able to move through life with a kind of equilibrium. 'Capstones of God's creative power, we are marked by an ambivalence which suffers from the pain of finitude as well as from the glorious burden of mirroring Infinitude. We live simultaneously on the brink of obliyion and the brink of infinity. Because the possibility of both destruction and transcendence are threatening, we too readily settle for the protection which illusion offers. But truth and ultimate fulfillment demand that we live face to face with the realization that the universe is teeming with wonder and danger 342 The Threat and Thrill of Dominion / 343 of colossal proportion; and we cannot let our consciousness of this inure us to the utter magnificence of that which has been entrusted to us. Instead of deflecting the wondrous mysteries of the world, we must so sensitize ourselves to our task and privilege that the fullness of God's glorious creation opens up before us, and thus we can revel in the inestimable joy to which we are heirs. ". mountainsand hills shall break out in song before you, and all the trees of the countryside shall clap their hands" (Is 55:12). The innate fear by which we resist the greatness to which we are called-- a Jonah complex according to psychologists--prompts us to entrench ourselves in mediocrity, security and conformity rather than bear the risk of the superlative. In the depth of our souls we glimpse our godlike possibilities, but quiver at the thought of having our potentials actualized. Intensity hurts. Pain--albeit a "nice" pain--is the counterpart of intense living. "We are only the earthenware jars which'hold this treasure to make it clear that such an overwhelming power comes from God" (2 Co 4:7). Our spiritual and.emo-tional yearning often seems to exceed our human capacity to withstand. Repression of the sublime is the defense which enables us to maintain our balance in a universe which would sweep.us off our feet if we were totally sen-sitive to it. Ecstatic moments, for instance, are too charged to be endured for long. Because we lack the strength to bear the miraculousness and force of life at its fullest, we cut back to an idle; we moderate the degree to which we will let ourselves experience the grandeur of it all. Closing ourselves off to the possibility of unlimited greatnessthus enables us to remain intact, untouched in the face of an overwhelmingness which might otherwise be devastating. In Thornton Wilder's Our Town, Emily perceives the truth of life only after she returns from the grave: "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize while they live it--every, every minute?" The stage manager answers: "The saints and poets, maybe--they do some." Just as the fear of greatness keeps us walled up, so does the fear of little-ness. In contrast to the rest of creation, we are at best miniscule, and that's ter-rifying. Man, the self-aware capstone of creation, is, in fact, insignificant. Our fragile position in a mighty world began with our helpless condition at birth. Despite unconscious efforts of denial, none of us can ever quite forget the fact that we were once dirty-faced, cry-baby kids who needed another even to change our diapers. As a species we may have been given dominion, but as individuals our personal histories are at best embarrassing. Unlike animals, we are endowed with a self-awareness which makes the truth of our fragility even more terrifying. "It means to know that one is food for worms., to have emerged from nothing, to have a name, consciousness of self, deep inner feel-ings, an excruciating inner yearning for life and self-expression-- and with all this yet to die.''t Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death (New York, 1973), p. 87. :344 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Paradoxically, it's this very terror of our own nothingness which has generated such self-assumed authority, such egoism. The instinct for self-worth and self-preservation has sparked the fantasies and repression which delude us about our true condition. Unable to cope with the reality of our littleness, we have let our egos construct vast networks of illusions by which we assert and argue our own value. Without these lies to feed off, life would be nightmarish. The rose-colored vision which repression insures protects us from the omnipresent bogeyman whose terrors would disarm us: if we ever dropped the mask of importance. According to Kierkegaard, the lies perpetrated by the ego are: the most natural ,defense against the anxieties of life. Dread would be overwhelming without the escape hatch which repression offers. Fantasizing about one's role or place in the cosmos is a comforting ex-ercise by which the emerging person obscures the truth which lies at the root of the human condition. The egoism which dominates us doesn't ring of pride as much asit does of escapism. It's weak man's instinctual defense against his smallness; against . total negation in an apparently capricious and topsy-turvy universe. Let's face it, over and above the natural disasters which threaten us, the evils We heap on one another are staggering: the haunting memory of six million Jews exter-minated; the wake of Three Mile Island and the threat of nuclear extinction; four hundred thousand boat people drowned; incessant wars and rebellions which decimate the hopes of nations. Rather than live vis-a-vis our fragile position, we prefer, in fact, to pull the wool over our own eyes. The crux of our failure to resonate with the challenge of dominion, then, is two-edged: a fear of greatness and a fear of littleness. Repression serves to protect us from a double apprehension about the latent power which might be unleashed in us, as well as from a sense of feebleness in the face of a vast universe. By blocking out any mystery or terror which dwarfs our stature, we live comfortably with the illusion of control. Repression makes the dark so cozy that we forget our need for the light. The price of this illusion, though, seems to be a lobotomy of the soul. We have anesthetized our spirits as a means of maintaining our balance. Undoubtedly, to have been made in the image of the Creator and subsequently entrusted with undisputed authority is a fearful heritage. If we are to attain our true stature, however, we must be persons who accept their creaturehood and are brave enough to live without the facade of power or righteousness or control. We will enjoy the thrill of dominion and minimize its threats only to the degree we can live with our own vulnerability--that is, to the degree we can shed the protective armor which has shielded us from so much of life. Thus psychology and religion merge as we relinquish the security blanket of egoism, which has so falsified our percep-tions, and posit our faith in the God who created us. The formula for such faith is basically simple: "One is a creature who can do nothing, but one exists over against a living God for whom 'everything is The Threat and Thrill of Dominion / :345 possible.' -2 The Scriptures clearly delineate the nature of this call to faith: faith in a God who has told us every hair on our head is numbered; faith in a God who knows when every sparrow falls to the ground; faith in a God who feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grass of the field with splendor; faith in a God who has said,. "No one who comes to me shall ever hunger and no one who believes in me shall ever thirst" (Jn 6:35); faith in a God who himself conquered death through resurrection. Such faith is the death knell to all the claims which the ego has so jealously guarded. Instead of making our own arrogant assertions the touchstone, our fundamental identity with Ultimate Power gives us our significance. Creaturehood is no longer a liability--rather, it's a hotline to the Creator. The very One who has called us into existence and given us authority stands behind us and before us. The secret fears which once eroded our joy and op-timism are dissipated the moment we see creatureliness as our claim to the Creator. Similarly, the inner yearning to proclaim ourselves and to experience the something more of life takes on new meaning as we accept our role as capstones of God's creative power. Our identity lies in imaging the Father and in nurturing that which his loving touch has brought forth. No longer is our personal worth determined by social and cultural norms; on the contrary, our individual worth is affirmed by our link with the transcendent God who created us and gave us dominion. Love has shared Itself. We have been made in his image. "Before you were born, 1 called you by name," The mystery at the heart of each of us makes sense and finds fulfillment only in relation to the Mystery at the heart of creation. ~ Becker, p. 90. Towards Mutuality in Ministry Sally Kenel, D. W. Sister Sally serves in the pastoral ministry of St. Mary, Gate of Heaven Parish. She resides at 85-28 Forest Parkway; Woodhaven, NY 11421. Which do you identify with more? A typewriter or a piece of paper? Santa's bag or a Christmas stocking? ~ These either/or questions attempt to indicate a basic tension that exists in identifying oneself as either a "giver" or a "receiver." We religious engaged in ministry probably tend toward the giver option. It is true that mfnistry requires service, but a forced choice between giver and receiver can set up a dualistic I-as-opposed-to-you dynamic. This dynamic, in turn, can be d block to the growth of the minister. Much of our training in religious life has reinforced the notion that "it is more blessed to give than to receive.'" Evidence of our working out of this framework can be found in such everyday responses to people as, "What can 1 do for you?" Immediately, the giver/receiver dualism is established. It is my contention that it is blessed to give and to receive; that the clear cut distinction between giver and receiver does not exist in reality; that there can be, indeed must be, mutuality in ministerial relationships. Since this belief was brought home to me in my ministry with the elderly, reflection on this concrete experience is what will give shape to much of this article. However, mutuality in ministerial relationships can exist between people of different ages, backgrounds, sexes, and so forth. In fact, all our relationships offer the possibility of blurring the lines that separate us, plunging us into that unity of all things in Christ. At first cons'ideration, the elderly may seem an. unlikely group to demonstrate that mutuality in ministry is possible. Often, our culture tends to focus only on the losses and depreciation of old age. Economically, in terms of the relationship Of expenditure to production, the aged person is viewed as Acts 20:35 346 Towards Mutuality in Ministry / 347 a liability. From the viewpoint of the dominant values of medicine, the process of human aging is considered to be totally negative. Moreover, the experiences of many people attest to the losses of aging: loss of income, loss of role, loss of status, loss of affection, loss of competency, loss of power-- to name a few.2 .Certainly, the elderly seem to be a group with serious needs, and meeting these needs can become an all encompassing task. However, to look only at the negative aspects of aging and to focus solely on the needs of the aged, starts us ministers on the road to that dualistic l-as-opposed- tozyou mentality. If mutuality is to be a possibility, we must get beyond the needs to the person. As we meet the person, it is my experience that we will find that revelation continues to take place, that we can receive. "What we like best about your visits, Sally, is that they help us to remember." This comment of one of our parishioners personalized what Becker describes as the special function of the pastoral minister, that is . to "bring up to date," so to speak, the treasury of accepting relationships in the life of the older person. The personal relationships which the pastor activates in the contem-porary history of the elderly will help them to "remember" (anamnesis) the past mercies of God, the past loving, unconditional acceptance of family, friends and members of the household of faith (hopefully)? ~ Becker goes on to indicate that this remembering is biblical in nature. It takes on the import that it has in the Scriptures especially in the Old Testament where "remembering was understood not merely in the sense of recall, but in the sense of reliving, reactualizing by recollection.'" Thus, in listening to the story of a~person's life, often we hear an individualized, unique version of salvation history; a testimony tothe action of God i'n the life of that person. ~ Nouwen says that the "great vocation of the minister is to continuously make connections between the human story and the divine story.''~ Several of the elderly people with whom I have had contact have made,these connections themselves during the course of their lives. From them 1 have learned much about their individual lives, much about the mystery of life, and much about the God who informs all our lives. From them, too, I have learned much about m~own humanity and my identity as a religious. That I would learn about the htiman condition 'from the elderly did not surprise me; in fact, 1 expected to learn from those who had experienced so much more of life~ However, 1 was unprepared for the fact that the lives of the elderly would have so much to say about religious,life, Yet, aging thrusts a person into new relationships with poverty, 10helines~ and oppression, the very conditions to which the vows speak. Thus,. 1 found that the elderly stand with us religious in witnessing to 2 Evelyn E. Whitehead, "Religious Images of Aging", in Aging and the Elderly, Spicker et al., eds., p. 37. ~ ~ Arthur H. Becker, "Judgment~and Grace in the Aging Process", Pastoral Psychology, XXVII (Spring 1979), p. 188. ' Ibid., p. 188. ~ Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Living Reminder (New York: Seabury Press, 1977), p. 24. 3411 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 common values. Let us explore this a little more deeply. According to Johannes Metz: Poverty as an evangelical virtue is a protest against the tyranny of having, of possessing and of pure self-assertion. It impels those practicing it into practical solidarity with those poor whose poverty is not a matter of virtue, bui is their condition of life and the situa-tion exacted of them by society.6 Actually, many middle-class people are impelled into practical solidarity with the poor by old age. Living on a fixed income in our inflation-ridden society does not allow some elderly people even modest comforts. For these, poverty is a new experience which can either be creative or devastating. It is creative for those who, during the course of their lives, have realized that the quality of a person's life is not determined by possessions or achievements. On the other hand, if a person's life has been completely caught up in amassing more money and possessions, the poverty that old age brings will be devastating. Those who deal with their new poverty in a creative way have much to say to those of us who accept poverty willingly. These people demonstrate how poverty can open the heart to surprise, wonder and delight in the simple things of life. Consider, eighty-nine-year-old Bernie whose eyes sparkled as she showed me a jar of grape jelly, the gift of her granddaughter. The jar of jelly represented much more than a welcome addition to her diet; it told her that she was loved and remembered. To Bernie, it was a confirmation of the goodness of people, and ultimately, the goodness of God. Faced with this sincere gratitude for such a little thing, I find myself becoming more'and more aware of the many gifts I have been given. Material possessions fade in mean-ing next to such gifts as good health, friends, and joy in living. It is with people such as Bernie that we religious can grow "to recognize, even celebrate, a deeper truth-- that no one ever earns his way, that life's meaning is more a gift than a reward.'" However, while appre~:iating the qualities such as gratitude which the elderly manifest, we must not lose sight of the poverty in which' they are rooted. This poverty is real. It is the kind of poverty that makes three meals a day a luxury and has the elderly counting out their last bit of change in the supermarket. It is the kind of poverty that keeps the house cold all winter long because utility costs are skyrocketing. It is the kind of poverty that isolates because traveling is impossible and a telephone is beyond their means. In short, it is the kind of poverty that invades one's very being; If we allow ourselves to see poor people like these, to meet them and to be touched by them, 1 believe that we religious will be challenged. What the outcome will be in terms of living out poverty will be up to each of us. But the elderly will have ministered to us, repeating the words of Christ: "There is one thing more you must do. Go and sell what you have and give to the poor; yow will have 6 Johannes B. Metz, Followers of Christ (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 49. ' Whitehead, op. cir., p. 45. ~ Towards Mutuality in Ministry treasure in heaven. After that, come and follow me.''8 Metz goes on to define celibacy:. . celibacy as an evangelical virtue is the expression of an insatiable longing for the day of the Lord. it impels toward solidarity with those unmarried people whosecelibacy (that is to say loneliness; that is to say not having anyone) is not a virtue but their social destiny, and towards those who are shut up in lack of expectation and in resignation.9 ~' Along with poverty, old age often brings a new form of loneliness. Distance from family and friends becomes a foe too formidable for the decreasing energy of the elderly to overcome. Opportunities for making new friends are often more severely limited than before. Ultimately, death itself provides the final separation. With the realization that much more of one's life lies in the past than in the future, loneliness can assume new proportions. Only when they are older do some ~people seem to realize how lonely their lives have been. John, a single adult of seventy-six, admits that now he is fascinated by children. He loves to be with them, to talk with them, to play with them, to watch them. He claims that in his younger days I~e never reflected on what it would mean to "live on" through children. Now, he sees this as a definite lack in his life, a choice that he drifted into rather than con-sciously made. Loneliness has made him a~are of his lack of responsibility for his life and he regrets what might have been. However, his new awareness of the fact that life is meant to be lived with and for others has led him into caring for his older sister who is handicapped. Thus, loneliness for John, has led not to resignation but to service. Our loneliness which results from our celibate way of life can lead to ser-vice also. However, this is different from using ministry to neutralize one's loneliness. Just as John has moved from the experience of loneliness to that of being with and for another, so too, must we religious come in touch with our loneliness in order that we may capture its implications for service. For some people, the lonelines~ of old age is a new experience, one which can make them more vulnerable. Consider eighty-nine year old Bill who, in the nice weather, spends most of his time enjoying the warmth of the sun in front of his house. One day he was approached by a well-dressed man who claimed to be a friend of his son. After some pleasant conversation, Bill in- ViCed him into his home where the man proceeded to rob him. Bill's hurt and outr,age stemmed not so much from the loss of mbney but from the fact that "he came as a friend, but in reality was a crook." Yet, Bill was willing to risk again. He opened his door to me, another stranger, and invited me to share a part of his life. For him, loneliness helped to keep alive the hope that relation-ships are possible. This willingness to risk is an important quality for us religious to cultivate. What is the point oi" celibacy if we surround ourselves with people who protect us from meeting strangers? Our celibacy demands that we also be open to Mark 10:21. Metz, op. cir., p, 60. ~150 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 others in ways that manifest the hope that relationships are possible. Such openness calls for risks, and the elderly who often have been separated from their life-long companions can show us how to take such risks. The loneliness of the elderly, which is accentuated by a new awareness of death, can lead them to greater depths of faith and hope. If the, lives of the elderly tell us that relationships with people are possible, so too do they announce the reality 6f ~ relationship with God. Moreover, this relation.ship with God is not merely limited to the present, but has eternal dimensions as well. The elderly 1 have come in contact with have revealed a variety of ways of relating to the Lord in prayer. For some, recitation of formal prayers like the rosary is very comforting. Others have discovered fgrms of contemplative prayer. One woman, unable to leave her home, said tl~at at first she missed attending church, but then came to the conviction that the whole worldis a cathedral and that God is truly present everywhere. She looks forward to experiencing this presence in a new way after death. For me, her faith~an~d hope serve as a reminder of Jesus' words: "I am the resurrection. If, anyone believes in me, even though he dies he will live, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.'''° It is in union with people such as these that our "longing for the day of the Lord" takes on corporate dimensions. It is in union with people such as these that we religious can break out of our own "lack of expectation and resigna'- tion." It is in union with people such as these that we religious can penetrate into the true meaning and value of our celibacy. Finally, Metz defines the ex~angelical virtue of obedience as: the radical and uncalculated surrender of one's life to God the Father who raises up and liberates. It impels one to stand close to those for whom obedience is not a matter of virtue, but the sign of oppression and of being placed in tutelage, and to do this in a prac-tical way.'t Growing older changes relationships, and often the elderly find themselves the victimsof oppression. A well-meaning son or daughter becomes convinced that the aged parent cannot live alone, and forces a move either to a relative's home or to a nursing home. An irate landlord, angered by the low rent an elderly person pays, refuses to make needed repairs. Doctors who refuse to make house calls make more frequent hospital stays necessary. The violent who prey uppn frail older persons can turn a routine trip to the bank in.:io a traumatic experience, and cause a person to live locked at home in fear. It is much the way Jesus put it to Peter: "When you were young you put on your own beet and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go.'''2 Recently, I received a phone call from a woman whose children and grand- John I 1:25-26. Metz, op. cit., p. 67. John 21:18. Towards Mutuality in Ministry / 351 children were trying to move her to another state to be with them. "Please, please save me from their clutches." Her cry touched me deeply. Several days later I visited her. The pain of moving, the pain of leaving what had been home for forty-five years, the pain of separating from friends and neighbors, the pain of uncertainty about the future, were all still .there. However, something else was there, too. "They want me to move because they love me, and so I am going," she told me. Love was able to penetrate through her pain and make surrender a positive action. It is from this woman that 1 have learned much about "letting go," a characteristic so necessary for obedience. This attitude does not act as a sedativ~ for the pain that can result from having our desires and plans thwarted. It is not a withdrawal from life, a giving up because we cannot have what we want. Rather, it involves an active acceptance of what is, embracing the pain along with the joy. "Letting go" calls for seeing things in true perspective without the warping that our own fears and prejudices can bring to a situation. When we cannot let go of something it is usually because we wish that it were other than it is. We hold on to a relationship after its vitality is gone, wishing that it could return to its former intimacy. We insist on our way of ministering to others, wishing that their needs matched our own gifts a little more closely. We hold on to our anger and hurts, savoring them, but wishing that we were not so fragile and vulnerable. And yet, the wishing changes nothing. Our former friend moves out of our life. The ways in which we are asked to serve are often not what we would choose. We remain vulnerable people. It is in the difficulties that We experience in "letting go" that we religious are most closely united to those subject to oppression. Neither situation is easily remedied; both requi~e struggle. Yet the struggle itself is not sufficient to achieve liberation. This remains the gift of God. "If the Son makes you free you will be free indeed.'''~ And so, while we continue to struggle, we learn from others that the love which makes surrender possible is available to us. The elderly can teach us that liberation is a real possibility. In conclusion, as I have~ been ministering to the elderly, they in turn have ministered to me in a variety of ways. They have helped to bring about a new awareness and sensitivity in my ministry. I have become more conscious of the mutuality, in relationships, more apprec~ia~ive of the role of others in my life. "Giver" and "receiver" no longer seem like isolated, opposed ways of being. In fact, I understand to a greater degree how "it is in giving that we receive." This understanding helps me to approach others with more'humility and respect. No matter in what ways I minister to others, I am aware that they also are ministering to me. Mutuality in ministerial relationships offers oppor-tunities for growth that few of us, if any, can afford to pass by. John 8:36. Come and See: The "Cottage Program" M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Pennington's last article, "The Vocation of the 'Vocation Father,' "appeared in the May, 1979 issue. He continues to be "Vocation Father" at St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, MA 01562. The "Cottage Program" is an instrument of our cooperation in the mystery of the genesis of a vocation that I wanted to share with you through these pages. In our times, as it had been in the eleventh or in the fourth century, or in the time of Christ himself, serious-minded young men and women seek a teacher, a guide, a master-- someone who could give a fuller meaning to their lives. Andrew and John had traveled south, taking time off from their work. They had heard tell of a teacher, a prophetic man of God, on the banks of the Jordan, and joined the stream of seekers heading in that direction. They listened, they learned, they understood--perhaps more deeply than most, because, when the teacher pointed to another, they followed him. And he asked them: "What do you seek?" Ultimately,. that is the question the Lord addresses to each one of us. And the answer we give is the most significant decision of our lives, the decision that, consciously or unconsciously, decides all else that we do. If we listen to the deepest ye~arning of our hearts, we, too, will respond, "Master, where do you dwell?" Master!. Yes. Be our master, our teacher, our guide, and let us abide with you, wherever that may be for us. And he replies, "Come and see!" It is when we experience this presence of God, speaking to our deepest hearts, that we know we have found our Master, our Way, our Life. Some years ago I was in Rome taking part in a vocation conference sponsored by the Sacred Congregation for Religious. There were brothers and 352 Come and See: The "'Cottage Program" / 353 sisters, priests and lay religious from many nations taking part in the conference. One of the modern features of this conference was that each par-ticipant was :free to speak in his or her own language. One evening in the course of the program we had a question box. Archbishop Paul Philippe, the Secretary of the Congregation, was presiding, reading out the questions found in the box, and inviting answers from the floor. "Now, here is an interesting question," he said. "How do you get across to a young person the idea of the contemplative life?" A little priest from Brazil, a Salesian with an Irish name like McHale, jumped up. In rapid-fire Portuguese he explained that the only way one can convey to a person the nature and meaning of the contemplative life is to bring him or her into con-tact with it, and let him or her discover its meaning, l think Father was right. And I believe that is equally true of any way of religious life or anylife of a transcendent nature. "Come and see." That is the thinking behind theCottage Progr.am. There is on the property of St. Joseph's Abbey (near Spencer, Massachusetts) a small stone house with six rooms in all. It was built in the 1920's, hut the lodge-like living room boasts beams over two-hundred years old, taken from a barn that stood in the days of Ethan ~llen, the onetime owner of the property. The kitchen and dining-room have been converted into bedrooms. The garage is now a chapel, dedicated to St. John the Baptist, the 'first vocation director. In an icon over the altar he points to Christ in the tabernacle. Standing in the shadow of the recently built abbey, the cottage offers young men interested in monastic life the opportunity to "come and see." It is usually full, and at times more than full ("full" means five men, but the rooms can accommodate two, and there is also the attic. There is always room for one more!). Those staying at the cottage follow very much the same schedule as the monks. They' form a little community of their own, so they won't feel strange or lost in the large monastic community, but they do join the monks for the Office, the Eucharist and work. The men are welcome to come for a day, a weekend, a week, or sometimes even 'longer-- whatever seems good for them. They are encouraged to think of the cottage as their home--a sort of spiritual home base. They may come whenever they wish. To date, no one has abused this open hospitality. The first visit is usually preceded by some reading about life .in the monastery. Each evening the candidates (or "cottagers," as they are sometimes called) gather around the great stone hearth for a colloquium or a conference with the Vocation Father, where they can learn of the wisdom and ways of the monks and have their questions answered. In the course of his visit, each young man is given practical instructions on how to do spiritual or faith reading and how to meditate. If he already has a method of meditation which has proved fruitful for him, he is encouraged to continue in it. If it is one learned from an Eastern master, he is helped to see how to place it in a Christian framework so as to open it to the Spirit, to faith, 354 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 and to love, so that it can truly be prayer. Before he leaves, the candidate is asked to formulate his own rule of life and to go over it with the Vocation Father. Our method for this is simple: After reflecting prayerfully on l Corin-thians 2, the candidate takes four sheets of paper. On the first; he tries to ex-press as succintly as he can the present goals of his life as he sees them. On the second, he lists as fully as possible the things he has to do to attain these goals. On the third, he lists the things he sees have been preventing him from moving toward his objectives. And, finally, on the fourth, he formulates a daily pro-gram for himself, and also a weekly and monthly schedt~ie of particulai: events.* This gives the candidate a concrete, practical support for bringing into his everyday life something of what he has learned and experienced as he shared the monks' life accordin.g to their Rule. Such an experience helps the young man to recognize and foster' the grace of vocation he is receiving. In some chses, it may be a long time before an individual can enter the monastic community. The qottage, though, already gives him a sense that in some way he already belongs, that he has his place in the monastery and a'spiritual father who cares for him. In some cases, the cottage experience puts the young man in touch with the contemplative dimen-sion of his life and shows him how to develop it, even as he moves on to some other vocation. It is not as easy for active religious communities to provide a Cottage Program as it is for monastic communities whose life is centered in a stable fashion in one place. But it is not impossible, and I think it can be, in some way or form, very useful. Let me suggest what I think could be an ideal form for an active religious institute. Obviously, the ideal always has to be adapted as it finds its ieal incarnations. It has been my experience over the years that there are a significant number of active religious who feel the call to a more contemplative form of life, either on a temporary or a permanent basis. It seems sad that they must, in most cases, think of going outside their own communities to realize this. :Far better would it be I think, if, ea~:h province or congregation had its own contem-plative house or house of prayer. Here a core group of members, committed for varying periods of time, could live the spiritual dimension of the particular charism of the community in a fuller way, and devote time.to a deeper study of the institute's proper ~:harism. It would be a place where the other members of the community could come, for days of recollection or longer retreats, to get more deeply in touch with their shared charism, their own deepest spirit. Such a house of prayer or contemplative center would, of cours~e, form a very precious and enriching adjunct for the novitiate and house of formation. It could also greatly encourage and inspire the retirement community as the seni6r members live out their life commitment in a more c0nte.mplative way. Here, though, I am thinking of such a house as a context within which the o *For a fuller treatment of this method, see°the Epilogue of my book, Daily We Touch Hhn. Come and See: The "'Cottage Program'" / 355 vocation father or mother could offer the ministry of hospitality. The aspirants would be able to perceive in the core group,a good expression of the spiritual and communal aspects of the life of that community. It is precisely an attraction to these aspects that often leads ~ oung men and women to explore the possibility of living out their commitment to Christ and his Body in a religious community. There would always be a group of professed religiou~ there with whom the candidates could pray and work. These would normally be members more reflectively conscious of the charism of their community, of their own participation in the grace of the founder. And so they would be able to help the aspirants to identify the grace stirring in their own hearts. Such an arrangement-- a vocation program within the context of a house of prayer or contemplative center--will not always be possible, or even desirable in some cases. Another alternative for a Cottage Program would be the house of formation or novitiate, if the vocation father or mother could find a bit of space there; a few rooms, for the candidates and themselves, and a common room are enough. The formation team could be the "stable com-munity" providing the lived experience for the aspirants. And these young men or women could readily identify with the young people in the formation or novitiate program. Whatever the arrangements, the ingredients that seem to contribute to the makimal success of such a program are:" 1. The presence of a professed community which obviously lives the spiritual aspects of the vocation., though thi~ does not exclude involvement in active .apostolates. 2. Access to the younger members of the community who have recently embarked on this life and with whom the candidates can easily identify. 3. A vocation father/mother willing and able to function as a spiritual father/mother, to instruct in the spiritual arts, to pray with the candidates, and to pray for them. 4. Practical instruction in spiritual reading, meditation (we usually use Centering Prayer), and the art of receiving spiritual guidance. Merton's little book, Spiritual Direction and MeditatiOn, published by Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota, is good for this. 5. A rule of life. 6. An open and welcoming hospitality. We have found that frequently candidates tell others of their experience at the cottage and are eager to have them share ira this program. This has added to the almost geometric increase of caffdidates we have experienced since we have inauguratedthe Cottage Program. There are many other programs underway~in different religious orders and congregations, which include~ one or othi~r of the aspects of the Cottage Program. I do not propose this program as the only way or the best way, but simply share it as one way, a way that has worked very well for us. I believe it 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 has been not only successful in fostering vocations for our own community (we have seventeen in the novitiate at the moment), butin making a contribu-tion to other religious communities, and to the Church at large. This year more than three hundred fifty have stayed at the cottage. All have found it a beneficial experience. Each learned at least a little more~ about prayer; about community, about Christ our Lord and his great love for each one of us. Such fruit makes a Cottage Program more than worthwhile. Now Available As A Reprint Celibate Genitality by William F. Kra[t Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. " Address: Review for Religious Am 428 3601 Llndell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Vocations: Identity and Commitment M. Marceiline Falk, C.PP.S. Sister Marcelline teaches at Bishop DuBourg High School; 5850 Eichelberger; St. Louis, MO 63109. Clearly we are living in times of crises. There are financial and political crises that make the front pages of our daily papers and evening newscasts. But there is another crisis, one that is becoming, or should be, of great interest and concern to those who love the Church of.Christ: that is the crisis of voca-tions to women's religious communities. " For centuries women religious, by their consecrated lives and devoted labors have fulfilled an important mission in the Church. Will they be able to continue that mission? Only if they are able to maintain their membership in sufficient numbers to continue in existence and so perform the apostolic ser-vices that the Church has entrusted to them. The severe drop in the number of vocations to women's religious com-munities is well-known. It is interesting to observe that both the sudden drop in religious vocations and the massive exodus of religious women engaged in active apostolates occurred at the same time that many communities were discarding religious habits, leaving earlier apostolates for other forms of ser-vice, and adopting life-styles more nearly !ike those of their secular counter-parts. Is there a causal relationship or at least a significant correlation between these concurrent phenomena? Are commitment to a specific apostolate and a readily perceived identity important factors in the viability of religious com-munities, as they are in other groups and organizations? Does a distin-guishable garb help to build an identity, promote a visibility which encourages vocations, make known that a religious woman is somehow different? Does a specific apostolic commitment attract the generosity of young women? Are 357 358 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 external life-style practices related to the number of vocations that a religious community can expect? If the answer to these questions is "Yes" then perhaps this will be instructive in our efforts to reverse the trend of too few vocations. In an attempt to find answers to the above questions, to ascertain the percentage of youthful members' in communities, and to establish a possible correlation between youthful membership and some readily observable life-style characteristics, 1 conducted a survey during the spring and summer of 1978. The results of this survey indicate that, indeed, the answer to these ques-tions is in the affirmative~ The results clearly show that religious communities which have kept a readily identifiable religious habit, however modified, and which engage in well-defined community apostolates do have more vocations. Many have adopted modified habits, but they are still readily identifiable as religious women~ Further, the term, "a definite community apostolate," need not preclude other works of charity being undertaken by the community in response to real need, when the work is not contrary to the spirit of the com-munity, and does not detract from the primary apostolate. The following questionnaire was sent only to major superiors of 300 active religious communities.2 The names were selected in a random manner from approximately 800 listed in the 1975 Catholic Directory. Responses were received from 223 or 74°70 of the sample. Of these, two were incomplete. The questionnaire used follows: Survey on Religious Life-style Practices A. 1. Nameofcongregation (or province) 2. Number of final professed sisters " 3. N~mber of sisters in temporary commitment 4. Number of novices of postulants 5. Number of other types of formation (pleasespecify) B. Policy of Congregation in regard to the following: 1. Is there a (superior, coordinator, Yes.____, No___. 2. 3. 4. .) in charge in each local house? Is this person elected , appointed ., other Other types of local government Are personnel appointments made a) __ by direct appointment.'?, ~. b) __ by choice of individual? c) __ by assignmer~t after consultation with the sister d) __ other (specify) Does your congregation have a definite commitment to a specific apostolate in the Church? Yes , No ? What is/are the principal apostolate(s) your sisters serve? Does your congregation have an official, d~stmctive habit? Yes " , No~__. ' Youthful membership includes sisters in temporary profession or promises and novices. Total membership includes final professed, temporary professed and novices. 2 Very small communities and contemplative communities were not included. Vocations: Identity and Commitment / 359 8. Does your congregation permit the use of secular dress? Yes~, No__. a) At the sister's own discretion? b) With thepermission of the major superior? c) Other (please specify) 9: Do the sisters have the use of a personal bridget? Yes~, No~. a) Is there a fixed amount? b) For what purpose may this budget be used? The questions in Part A we~:e used to provide information about the number of religious, and to determine the percentage of youthful membership in the congregations surveyed. The percentage of youthful membership can be used as an indicator of viability or numerical stability. Data from questions in l~art A were analyzed, and results are given in the following table. Com-munities were divided into nine groups, according to the percent of youthful members: Table I Group 07o Youthful Members No. of Communities % of Total Sample I Over 10% 18 8.1 o10 11 9.9-6.00/o 19 8.6°1o 111 5.9-4.507o ' 23 10.4070 IV 4.4-3.5070. " 28 12.6070 V 3.4,2.0070 29 13.1 070 VI 2.4-2.0% 29 13.107o VII 1.9-1.5°/0 23 10.40/o VIII 1.4-1.00/o 27 12.2% IX Less than 1 070 25 I 1.3% Let us assume that an average of about 10%0 of young members will allow a religious institute to maintain its membership,3 and that about five years elapse between entrance into the novitiate and final profession. This would mean that an average yearly entrance rate of about 2% would be required to maintain a numerically stable community.' If we accept this percentage of new members as necessary for the maintenance of numerical stability in the community, it takes into account an expected loss of 2% due to death or departures. Communities, then, which can categorize 10% of their population as "young," and which also have an influx of new members at the rate of 2% per year, would have a numerically stable, or even increasing membership. If a community can only describe 5% of its membership as young, this would indicate that it has been receiving new members at a rate of about 1%. A youthful population of 2% would suggest admissions at the rate of 0.4% annually. In each of these instances, given the typical 2% proportion of change due to death and departure, losses to the total membership would be statistically predictable: 1% and 1.6% respectively. The same predictability ' "Religious in the World (Statistics up to Dec. 31, 1974)," Consecrated Life I, No. 1 (1977). ' For example, a community of 500 would need an average of ten new members per year to main-tain a stable membership. 360 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/3 would pertain to each of the nine categories of communities in our sampling. On the basis of these calculations, Group I would be expe.cted to maintain or increase its total membership. Communities in Groups II find IlI could be expected to have progressively slightly reduced membership. If the present trend continues for groups IV, V, and VI, their membership would probably be halved in three to five decades, while those in Groups VII, VII1 and IX might well cease to exist in about three decades. Obviously these calculations are premised on present trends. Factors, however, coulffchange in the future, and this could retard the fulfillment of these predictions-- or accelerate them. Part B of the questionnaire is concerned with som~ external, behavioral characteristics. The characteristics chosen are different from those usually associated with ~ecular life-styles, and traditionally have been common characteristics among active communities of religious women. Numbers one and two have to do with community governance. Numbers three through six are concerned with apostolate and personnel assignment. Numbers seven and eight deal with the matter of religious habit, and nine, with the question of personal budget. In each of thes~ areas, change became evident after the Second Vatican Council. One of the purposes of the survey was to explore the possibility that these changes had an influence on the incidence of vocations to the respective communities. To this end, the number and percentages of communities which evidenced a particular characteristic were tabulated, and compared against the percent-age of young members each community enjoyed. My fullest hopes in pursuing this investigation were not realized. Nothing could be concluded about postulants, or persons in other types of formation. Responses to questions 2 and 3B, concerning local governance, proved ambiguous, and indications concerning amounts and usages in the matter of personal budgets were too varied to admit of interpretation. Therefore, for purposes of our study, only Part A and questions 1, 4, 7, 8 and 9 of Part B proved useful for our analysis. In the tables which follow, the responses to the various items are grouped on the basis of .the proportion of youthful me.rnbers, i.e., on the basis of how those communities have succeeded in draw-ing new members to join them. Table 2 Percent of Communities With a Person in Charge at the Local Level Number in Group % of Group 10070 15 out of 18 83.3%0 9.9-6.007° 16 out of 19 84:2°/0 5.9-4.5070 18 out of 23 78.3070 4.4-3.5070 20 out of 28 71.4%0 3.4-2.5% 17 out of 29 58.4% 2.4-2.0% 18 out of 29 62.1% 1.9-1.5o/0 17 out of 23 73.9°70 1.4-1.0% 15 out of 27 55.6% Less than I% 21 out of 25 84.0% :Vocation~: Identity and Commitment / 361 Table 3 Percent of Communities with Personnel Placement After Consultation Number in Group °/o of Group 10% 16 out of 18 88.9% 9.9-&0%o 16 out of 19 84.2070 5.9-4.5°7o 17 out of 23 73.9°/o 4.4-3.5¢/0 24 out of 28 85.7%0 3:4-2.5%0 18 out of 29 62.1°/0 2.4-2.0%o 24 out of 29 82.8% 1.9-1.5%0 14 out of 23 60.9% 1.4-1.0% 20 outof 27 70.1% Less than 1% 20 out of 25 80.0% Table 4 Percent of Communities With Specific Community Apostolic Service Number in Group a/o of Group 10% 15 out of 18 83.3% 9.9-6.0% 16 out of 19 84.2% 5.9-4.5% 19 out of 23 82.6% 4.4-3.5% 23 out of 28 82. 1% 3.4-2.5% i4 out of 29 48.3% 2.4-2.0% 15 out of 29 51.7% 1.9-1.5% 14 out of 23 60.9% 1.4-1.0% 12 out of 27 44.4% Less than 1% 12 out of 25 48.0% Table 5 Percent of Communities with a Distinctive Habit Number in Group °/o of Group 10% 16 out of 18 88.9% 9.9-6.0% 15 out of 19 80~0% 5.9-4.5% 13 OUt of 23 56.5% 4.4-3.5% 23 out of 28 82.1% 3.4-2.5% 14 out of 29 48.3% 2.4-2.0% 14 out of 29 48.3% 1.9-1.5% 11 out of 23 47.8% 1.4-1.0% 8 out of 27 29.6% 1.0% 13 out of 25 52.0% Table 6 Percent of Communities Permitting Secular Dress at Sister's own Discretion Number in Group ~o of Group 10% 2 out of 18 I1.1% 9.9-6.0% 4 out of 19 21.0% 5.9-4.5%0 6 out of 23 26.1% 4.4-3.5% 9 out of 28 32.1% 3.4-2.5% 15 out of 29 51.7% 2.4-2.0% 17 out of 29 58.6% 1.9-1.5% 15 out of 23 65.2% 1.4-1.0% 19 out of 27 70.4% 1.0% 17 out of 25 68.0% 362 / Review for Religious, 'Volume 39, 1980/3 Table 7 Percent of Communities Using a Personal Budget Number in Group % of Group 10% 5 out of 18 27.8%0 9.9-6.0% 10 out of 19 52.6%o 5.9-4.5% 16 out of 23 69.6%0 4.4-3.5%o 22 out of 28 78.6%0 3.4-2.5% 27 outof 29 93.1% 2.4-2.0% 28 out of 29 96.6% 1.9-1.5% 20out of 23 ¯ 87.0% 1.4-1.0% 26 out of 27 96.3% 1.0% 25 out of 25 100.0% These tables indicate that the characteristics of a specific community apostolate and a distinctive habit do have a strong influence on the number of youthful members, and therefore, on the number of vocations to a com-munity. To test the degree of relationship between the given characteristic and the percent of youthful membership, a statistical analysis of the data given in the previous tables was made. The usual instruments of the Spearmann cor-relation coefficients and significance tests were used to demonstrate statistical correlation between the percentage of youthful members and .the various characteristics with the following results,~ The correlation between youthful membership and the characteristic of having "a person in charge at the local level" did not show any 'appreciable significance. The correlation was 38.33.07o with a corresponding significance of ¯ 154. This is evident from the data, which do not show much variation. Most communities reported a person in charge. Answers to the questionnaire on this point were frequently qualified by such statements as: "Yes, but not in smaller houses," or: "No, except in the larger houses." The correlation between youthful membership and the use of a personal budget is even less, at -31.67070, having a significance of .203. The negative correlation indicates that there is some slight decrease in the use of the budget as the percentage of youthful members increases. Again, although most com-munities indicated the use of a personal budget, the amount and kinds of restrictions on its use varied from very small amounts for the purchase of small, personal items to large amounts with practically unrestricted use. It was interesting to note that the use of th.e personal budget was least evident among communities which did not permit secular dress. Personnel placement after consultation with sisters shows a somewhat higher correlation, of 60.0°70, and a significance of .044. Possibly there is a ~ Spearmann correlation percentages, based on O- 100%, measure the tendency of two variable~ to vary ~together, that is to show a relationship to each other. Significance tests decide whether dif-ferences between values obtained from the samples and theoretical expeclations could be due to chance. A low significance factor indicates that the relationship studied could not be due to chance. Vocations: Identity and Commitment / 363 relationship between community apostolate and the placement of personnel in areas of community commitment. Of significance is the very high correlation between the number of young members and the existence of a specific community apostolate (90.0°7o and a significance of .001). This strongly suggests that a community commitment to a specific service in the Church has a strong influence on vocations. Such apostolic services were not necessarily limited to only one area of the apostolate. Many communities, in fact, indicated a wide range of apostolic services. But they were community apostolates, and not left to individual choice. A distinctive religious habit is also a significant factor in the number of youthful religious in a community. In this case, the correlation percent is 77.8070, with a significance factor of .007. The most highly significant correlation was the inverse ratio between the number of youthful members and the use of secular clothes at the sister's own discretion. Here a-98.33070 correlation coefficient, and a significance of .001 clearly indicate the negative influence of this characteristic on vocations.6 Ap-parently commun~ities having an open option for secular clothes fail to attract many young women. The characteristics analyzed in this study cannot be the only ones which in-fluence the number of vocations, and so affect the numerical stability of a religious community. Neither are they necessarily a measure of the internal fervor, or of the importance of a particular community's contribution to the Church and the People of God. Other aspects, such as the quality ofcom-munity prayer life, the kind of apostolate, the geographic location,ethnic origin, time of founding--as well as many other intangibles, such as com-munity spirit, understanding of the vows, and other internal characteris-tics- will certainly also have an effect on the overall picture. However, the statistical analysis of the data obtained in the questionnaire does clearly indicate that, generally, communities with a specific and well-defined apostolate, and those which retain the visible sign of the habit do have a significantly greater number of young members. Apparently these two fac- . tors do, in large measure, provide the initial visibility, the instant recognition of "Who We Are," and "What We Do" that are capable of drawing new members to the communities that possess them. 6 The negative percent means that the use of secular dress has a strong adverse effect on religious vocations. 364 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 Since these characteristics, a reasonably specific apostolic service and a distinctive habit (or nonuse of secular clothes) does seem to show such a high significance, it might be interesting to apply the conclusions to a real community. I made an analysis of membership trends for one particular community. This community changed its apostolic thrust from education to an open-ended .apostolate, according to which its present policy is to permit new members to choose their own apostolic field of service. The use of secular dress was also left to the discretion of each sister. A comparison of the membership of this community between the years 1961 and 1978 shows the following:' Table 8 1961 1978 Nurfiber of Final Professed 513 458 Number in Temporary Vows 47 1 I Novices 48 3 Total Membership 608 472 In 1961, the youthful membership (novices and "juniors") was 95, or 15.6% of the total. In 1978, these numbered only 14, or 3% of the total membership. This represents a net los's of 136 sisters during this seventeen year period, a 22% loss. During this same period, 94 sisters died, and there were 80 new admissions. There were also over 100 departures. The major loss due to departures and a decline in admissions began in 1968, when the policies of individual choice of apostolic service and the use of secular dress became effective. At this time, a new formation program was introduced, placing a strong emphasis on self-fulfillment and promoting individual choice of apostolic service and of the mode of dressing. The median age in 1961 was about forty-eight years. In 1978, it had risen to about 63 years. In 1961, about half the community was professed less than twenty-five years. By 1978, half the community was professed for forty or more years. During the last ten years, since the new policies of self-choice in apostolic service and the use of secular dress went into effect, only fourteen sisters made first profession. Surely this would indicate that the rise in median age is rather due to a lack of new vocations, and of departures, than to a ¯ general rise in the median age of the population at large. Further, it is clear that the median age of this particular community is much too high for com-placency about the future. The following table shows the shift which took place in the median age of this community: ' The year 1961 was chosen as starting date because it was the last year before Vatican ll; 1978 is the latest date for which statistics were available. Vocations." Identity and Commitment / 365 Table 9 1961 1978 Number of Years Number of % Number of % of Professed Sisters Total Sisters Total More than 53 18 3.0 61 13.0 48-52 22 3.6 44 9.3 43-47 30 4.9 65 13.8 38-42 40 6.6 79 16.7 33-37 55 9.0 42 8.9 28-32 65 10.7 32 6.7 23-27 78 12.8 37 7.8 18-22 65 10.7 32 6.7 13-17 39 6.4 40 8.5 8-12 48 7.9 15 3.1 4- 7 54 8.9 8 1.7 3 or less (Including Novices) 95 15.0 14 3.0'- Prognostications from this table make it clear that if the trends continue, and are not somehow reversed, it will become increasingly difficult for this particular community to continue its service to the Church, that, indeed, it faces a struggle for survival in the not too distant future. The. decrease in religious vocations is a grave concern for the whole Church, as the following statement of Paul VI in an address to religious women indicates: ~ In truth, here again we have to" make a double observation that is not a happy one. Religious vocations, for women, too, are falling off; yet both the Church and secular society have a gro.wing need for these vocations. This is one of th~ problems of our time, for whose solution we must work and pray? The importance of identity and apostolic commitment in fostering voca-tions is stressed by Cardinal Pironio, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for' Religious and Secular Institutes: In a serious study of consecrated life--particularly in evaluating certain attitudes and concrete activities--there is no doubt that many things would change if we responded with loyalty to this question: "What do Christ, the ecclesial community, and the world in which we live expect of us?" At any rate, there are three aspects in consecrated life which it would be well to emphasize: The Church expects religious to be faithful to their identi-ty, to their essential values, and to their evangelical relevance . Religious are, before all else, Christians, but they are religious in a way that is unmistakably distinct . Religious identity d0es not segregate religious from the rest of the members of the People of God, nor does it remove them from the world; on the contrary, it identifies them and involves them in the world with their own, unmistakable specificity . The loss of identity is one ~ Pope Paul VI, "New Horizons for Women Religious," address given to women religious on the feast of the Nativity of our Lady, 1964, Documents on Renewal for Religious, Daughters of St. Paul, 1974, p. 57. 366 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/3 of the causes today of the drop in vocations to consecrated life. When an institute's iden-tity disappears, or is jeopardized, it is only logical for young people to lose their en-thusiasm and become disoriented. Being faithful to one's self is therefore to take on a strong commitment with God and with men. it is the essence of our vocation, and of our consecration, and of our mission.~ I The words of our Holy Father, John Paul II, spoken to mothers general on November 16, 1978, just one month after his election, are particularly significant: And if your consecration to God is really such a deep reality, it is not unimportant to bear permanently its exterior sign which a simple and suitable habit constitutes; it is the means to remind yourse!ves constantly of your commitment which contrasts strongly with the spirit of the world; it is a silent, but eloquent testimony that our secularized world needs to find on its way, as many Christians, moreover, desire. 1 ask you to turh this over carefully in your minds. '° This study of external behavioral characteristics as related to vocations is an attempt to contribute to a serious study of possible causes for the evident decline in the number of religious vocations to active communities of women in the United States. While it is true that this is only part of the total picture, it is hoped that a spirit of openness would encourage communities to consider seriously the impact of these external behavior patterns on the perception of what religious life is all about. The interior spirit of a community is of the ut-most importance, but the external manifestation of that spirit of dedication, the willingness to be recognized by a religious habit and the having of a specific apostolic commitment to the service of Christ in the Church and the world is also important. These externals advertise for all to see: "We are religious! We do believe that our.being and our service are essential to our specifically religious witness." 9 Eduardo Cardinal Pironio, "Th~ Joy of Fidelity," Consecrated Life Ill No. ~, 1979. ,o Pope John Paul 11, "Be True Daughters~ of the Church, Not Orily in Words But in Deeds," Strain Forward, Vol. 12, No. 1, January 1979. How About a Semi-Sermon Sometime? M. Eucharista Ward, O.S.F. Sister Eucharista teaches at St. Ladislaus Higl~ School; 2697 Caniff Ave.; Hamtramck, M 148212. It was hard to imagine how God could add to a spiritual nurturing that for ten years had seemed almost the equivalent of hothouse conditi

Issue 39.4 of the Review for Religious, July 1980. ; REVIEW FOR REt.t(;tOt~S (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collabo~:ation with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located tit Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri, © 1980. By REVIEW FOR RELI(;IOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid tit St. Louis. Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year: $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.(10 a yeur, $17.(111 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REv~-:w ~:OR REL~;~OUS: P.O. Box 6070: I)uluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July, 1980 Volume 39 Number 4 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REW~:W ~'OR R~:tAc~otJs; 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 College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Journey into Christ James M. Deschene, O.S.B. Brother James' last article, "On Monastic Sexuality," appeared in the issue of November, 1979. He has recently been transferred to Christ of the Hills Monastery; P. O. Box 32849; Nimitz Station; San Antonio, TX 78216. A monk is a man of mystery. He is a mystery partly, though least importantly, because in our day and age he is little seen, little understood. He seems to be a romantic anachronism living out some medieval dream. To the outsider, monasteries are mysterious places and the monks within are always curiosities. Those who visit the monastery expect to find, in the words of Saint Athanasius written centuries ago, "an altogether different country, cut off from the rest of the world, and the inhabitants of that country have no thought than to live in love and justice." There is, however, a larger sense in which the monk is a man of mystery. For it is the monk, more than other men, who plunges his whole life into the very depths of the human adventure, into depths where the human adventure is discovered to be a response to a mysterious divine call. In that secret place, in the very heart of our being, a Voice, full of quiet power, speaks: 1 love you. Before the world was made, before the firsl tick of time, I loved you. I have made you for myself because I love you. And wh.en the universe lies cold and lifeless, I will love you still. Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart. To hear those words uttered in the stillness of our hearts is to know real ter-ror. For, like any human love, they demand of us a commitment of our very being. Yet unlike human love, their demand on us is an infinite one. We are asked to surrender ourselves utterly into those divine hands, to withhold nothing. We are afraid of such a love: 481 482 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 For, though I knew His Love Who followed, Yet was I sore adread Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside. (Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven) In the face of this demand it is easy to see why we flee from God into busy-ness, noise, distraction. Who of us can bear to be so loved? Or to offer such a love in return? Yet this love and this demand are at the very heart of our religion. God is love. And as hard as that is to believe, many find it even harder to believe that this God, this Love, loves them--infinitely (for God can do no less). This is a love that asks us to die to everything but itself, to be willing to abandon every possession, every security, every earthly thing and to leap into the dark from which God calls to us. From this darkness, from this call, from this unspeakably demanding love, we try to escape and flee. The monk does not. And insofar as man's final rest and fulfillment lie solely in God, the monk stands before us as a challenge and a sign of what we truly are and of where our lives will truly find their ending: in utter abandon-ment to the love of God. Both the Christian monk and the ordinary Christian are called to the same high and mysterious destiny. When Christ orders us to follow the narrow path, he addresses himself to all men. The monk and the lay person must attain the same heights. (St. John Chrysostom, In Epist. ad Haebraos) The monk is different in that he commits himself to this goal single-heartedly and in deadly earnest, surrendering all that might hinder the search. He who hears the voice of God must recognize that he is called to an' adventure whose ending he cannot foresee because it is in the hands of God. That is the risk and the challenge of the monastic calling: we surrender our lives into the hands of God and never take them back. (Thomas Merton, Cistercian Life) The monk is willing to suffer the loss of all things, if only Christ be gained (Ph 3:8). All the details of his life are simplified, streamlined, so that he lives with a clarity and single-mindedness often missing from the lives of other men and women. The monk is called to be the unified, integrated man whose life is centered on one thing only-- the love and service of God. And yet, for all this, we must not see the monk as special or basically different from others. Rather, he is a sign, a kind of sacrament or incarnation, of every person's specialness and vocation--to seek the God in whom alone the human heart finds rest, life and joy. You have made us for yourself, Lord. And our hearts will find no rest until they rest in you. (Saint Augustine, Confessions) The monk is also a man of despair. By being utterly honest with himself, he has come to admit the hopelessness of what the world calls good--the illu-sions, the emp.ty materialism--and knows in his heart that these values can bring no one to God, but often aid a man in hiding from the demands of the Journey into Christ infinite Lover. Yet this despair for the monk is a salutary despair, for it enables him to discard these conventional and false values and to put in their place the only true values--love, mercy, justice, peace, joy. So the monk withdraws from the city into the desert, the wilderness. He becomes an outlaw, a stranger. Yet his apartness and withdrawal are, paradoxically, signs of his deep loyalty to the family of man. In refusing to live by the values that demean human beings, the monk affirms in himself and for his brothers and sisters the true value of men and women in God's sight. Out of love for his brothers and sisters, the monk will not consent toa life that enslaves in falseness and futility. Here too the monk enters upona~mystery. For he enters a way he does not know, a journey without maps, a, land untraveled by most men and women, an uncharted wilderness. Like the Chosen People of old, he is called and led by God deeper and deeper into this unknown country. Gone are all the familiar contours of the human landscape and social life. Gone are the secur-ity and assurance of old and comfortablehabits of life. There remains in that dry desert air only the single Voice that calls one onward: "Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart." . Abandoning all to follow that call, the monk advances on his journey without maps. He is a fool to do so,'but he is a fool for Christ's sake; and like his Master, he confounds the wisdom of theworld by living out the wisdom of God. Seeing the monk's foolishness,- men ask: "What is the use of all this?" And the monk can give no answer. His way is not essentially a way of profit or usefulness or productivity. His life is, in the eyes of the world, a pointless one. The world never ceases to be amazed at this, and so it asks again: "What is the point of all this?" Again the monk is silent. Silence is his message. The question has been asked; that is point enough. The monk has proclaimed by his very presence the absurdity of a world apart from Ctirist. So long asa single monk lives,men will have a reason to question the ways and values of their world. Wars, revolutions, social, political ahd economic upheavals are~the tools the world uses to bring about change, Against all these the monk proclaims by his life the one-power that can healand change the world--transfiguration through love and grace. And this always happens in secret, in silence, in the d.epths where man meets God inqove. Then and there is the wounded human heart filled with healing, joy and peace, which are the monk's final gifts to suffering humanity. By surrendering himself, he has been healed, and through him flow into the world the gifts the world has ever sought but rarely found. Healing, joy, peacemthe gifts of Christ. They may be had only by a sur-render to Christ's love, by a death to all things that would separate one from his love. The monk reminds us of this. If the monk is to "reestablish all things in Christ," he must be ready to disestablish all 41~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 things in himself. Like Christ, he must empty himself, becoming obedient unto death. (Hubert van Zeller, The Holy Rule) Obedience. Death. Harsh and fearful realities for modern man. The monk, like Christ, is a man of obedience unto death. He seeks to be admitted, in love, to the heart of the mystery of the suffering Christ and to become one with that sacrifice whereby the whole world is made a new creation. He goes through death with Christ to rise in the dewy morning of a world recreated in the risen Lord. Only through obedience and death can the gifts of the new creation--joy, healing, peace--be brought to man. Our own baptism showed us this, as we were plunged into the mystery of Christ's death so we might rise with him in his new life. The monk is a living sign of baptism. In his own transfiguration through grace, having become a wholly new creature, the monk brings back into our struggling world the freshness and innocence of Eden. The monk is also a sign ol~ the end, of the coming kingdom. "Thy kingdom come," we pray, dreading that our prayer might be answered. For the kingdom (we know) will mean the end of all our petty security, our dishonesties, our comfortable habits. In the monk we see a sign of this coming kingdom. Yet in him we see too that the end, though it will be an utter catastrophe for our old ways, will finally be a deep and gracious blessing, fill~ ing our lifelong emptiness with the gifts of healing, joy and love. In the monk God gives us a living sign of this hope, a sign that Christ has already overcome the world: Easter has happened, the power of death has been vanquished, and all our fears are groundless. All that thy child's mistake Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home; Rise, clasp my hand, and come! (The Hound of Heaven) We see too in the monastery itself--in this community of brothers gathered in love and mutual service, and centered and grounded in Christ--a sign of the coming kingdom. In the sonship of the monks and the fatherhood of the abbot, all gathered in loving fellowship, we catch glimmerings of the m'ystery of the Trinity of Father, Son and Spirit. In the monastic Church, microcosm of the universal Church, with the monks gathered in Eucharist about the altar, we have a living sign of the Body of Christ, And in the fidelity of the monks to liturgical and contemplative prayer, we can discover anew that the worship and praise of God is the final destiny of man. For worship--"With my body I thee worship"--is but another word for love. The monk is indeed a man of mystery and of mysteries--mysteries of ¯ vocation, of surrender, of suffering; of obedience, of death, of resurrection; of the kingdom and of the Trinity. Perhaps most simply, though, he is a sign of the mystery of love which is the deep mystery of God. In our days, as always, rfien and women need signs of the mystery of God at work in their hearts. We need to hear the message of the monks among us: Journey into Christ / 485 as unknown yet well known, as ever at death's door, yet, wonder of wonders, we con-tinue to live; as chastened but not killed, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as beggars yet enriching many, as having nothing yet possessing everything. (2 Co 6:9-10) In silence, in hiddenness, the monk's life radiates its message of peace and hope into the nighttime of our world, assuring us that the light of Christ shines in the darkness of our lives. The end draws near, but it will be the end of darkness and death, not of life. And in that dawn, made bright with the risen Christ, our hearts will know the joy that never ends and the perfect love that casts out every fear. You changed my mourning into dancing; you took off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my soul might sing praise to you without ceasing; O Lord, my God, forever will I give you thanks. (Ps 29) That is the song the monk sings secretly in his heart. lit is the song of every Christian who has surrendered himself to Love. Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart. The 'Desert Is Blooming The desert is blooming again, but it blooms in the clefts of the rock and the wide-reaching spaces. It blooms in the night and it spills its perfumes over desolate sands in unreachable places. A stream has burst forth in the wilds but it springs from the face of a rock and its source is unseen. It leaps crystal-clear from the wound in the rock and around it the gold of the desert grows green. The desert is blooming again, but to see where the beauty is sprung and the flaming bush stands, means rising by night, walking through measureless days, with no paths and no rest over hot burning sands. But the blossoms are live bursts of flam!! and the fragrance speaks Presence that gives the heart wings. And high in the rock where the waters leap forth in the cleft is a nest where a brown sparrow sings. Sister Mary Clare of Jesus, P.C.C. Monastery of Poor Clares 215 E. Los Olivos St., Santa Barbara, CA 93105 Untirl Christ Be Formed in You Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie is a frequent contributor to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. She is a member of the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, SC 29609. At the heart of the universe there is a zone at once profound and simple . in which whatever is done to us, it is Christ who does it; whatever we do, it is to Christ we do it. (P. de Chardin, The Prayer of the University, Harper and Row, NY, 1965, p. 26.) How have we been formed, helped to grow, to become the persons we are called to be? What influences have been most formative in our lives? The answers to these questions are multiple, as well as uniquely individual. Yet a common thread runs through them all: other persons are what form us and they are most formative when they themselves are growing, healthy, that is, when they are in the formative process themselves. To be formative of others, then, one must be "in formation" oneself. Such is the simple truth: none of us is "formed," complete, totally mature; we are all on the way, in process. We all need the help of others, if we are to continue to grow. From whom can we receive the most help? It would seem that the person or persons who are most able to assist us are those who are willing to enter into a formative relationship with us, that is, who are willing to grow with us, to be "in formation" with us. The teacher, for example, who continues to learn, teaches not only subject matter but also gives us a taste for being educated. And the spiritual director whose understanding reveals that (s)he knows our struggles from having been there and from trying to move beyond, inspires us with the possibility of such growth for ourselves. Formation ministry then seems to begin with the premise that we are most formative of others when we ourselves are healthy, maturing persons, caught up in the growth process ourselves. From this it would seem to follow that this ministry should also offer, in itself, .opportunities for such growth. 486 Until Christ Be Formed in You / 487 Forming and Being in Formalion To be in a formative relationship with others, one must be "in formation" oneself. This is the basic assumption of all that follows, an assum ptio n whose meaning will be clarified as this article proceeds. But first to rule out a few misconceptions about "forming" and "being in formative relationships." Since growth comes from within, no one can assume responsibility for another's growth; no one can be made responsible. All any one can do, or fail to do, is to provide suitable environment, a climate that inspires others to mature, that makes such maturation more possible. What these persons give to others is the stimulus of experience, encouragement, and finally, example. They say with their lives: growth is worth the effort. The price may be pain but the purchase is life. This is how you are formed. Reach, stretch, mature. Be in formation with me. Another objection might be phrased: aren't those who grow the most the young and inexperienced? At first glance this might seem to be true, but only if the focus is kept on externals. Growth comes from inside out; it is qualitative, not quantitative. In terms of adding inches or amassing facts, the beginner holds the edge. But in terms Of breakthroughs, it is the skilled athlete who shaves seconds off the record; it is the experienced researcher who adds significant insights to the pile of his predecessor's conclusions. In other words, growth is most formative, not at the beginning but at the cutting edge, the tip, the climax of the process. Put in terms of model theory, a director of formation is not called to be a doctor who heals the wounds of others; only God really heals us. Nor is (s)he to be a lecturer, outlining facts and presenting them with logical clarity--there are books enough for that; nor a therapist working through the past~, helping another to discover more appropriate responses. Rather the model of an older brother or sister seems most revelatory. Like an olde~:)l brother or sister, the formation director walks alongside, shares experiences/i~ both past and present. Past experience allows him or her to have a sense of the~ way, a sureness in walking on it. Present ministry provides an opportunity to.~) walk alongside. The activity of the director of formation can only be in support both of this working of the Spirit and of human growth. The first, work of the Spirit is the Incarnation; "she conceived by the Holy Spirit" (Mr 1:20). So too the~first work of the formation minister will be to incarnate Jesus in his/her own life, to help another discover the Jesus he or she is called tobe. 'And all of this in the service of human freedom. How are we freed? By being redeemed, bought back from the slavery that is sin in us and helped to grow into full human responsibility. Such freedom cannot be taught; it can onlybe caught. It is con-tagious. In short,(~ve are formed into freedom by being with free persons, i.e., with those whom the Spirit of truth has already begun to make free. To be such an "Inspirited" person is the vocation of the director of formation, It is his ministry of being formed and so becoming formative of others. 1188 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 The Vocation of Formation Ministry How we see ourselves, regard our work, will be reflected in the way that others see us, see what we do. If an individual sees formation ministry as duty, he will be dutiful and those to whom he ministers may come to see themselves as burden, as obligation, as sacrifice. At best, they will respond by being dutiful themselves; at worst, they may become resentful and noncooperative. Others may see this ministry as an advancement and honor, an office, a promotion of sorts. In which case the service of fellow pilgrim will be lost both for the director and for those (s)he is called to serve. But both of these will probably find out quickly enough that its "duty" will call far beyond the limitations of being "dutiful"; that it is an "honor" hardly worth the cost. Yet even these extremes can be seeded with some truth. A ministry that sup-ports another's grbwth into Christ does impose the duty of living as we hope to see others live; and it is an honor to be called into such service. Formation ministry, then, is primarily service. But it is a service to which we are called, rather than a task which we choose for ourselves. It is voca-tional: a call coming from our Father and incarnated in community, a direc-tion continuous with our past, shaping our present and pointing the arrow toward future growth. And finally it is a call that will change our lives, prod us into conversion, gift us with new life in the Lord. In summary, the vocation of formation ministry will form us on that most personal level of our own call/response to the Lord. Like every vocation, the ministry of formation is primarily response, rather than self-initiated project. And a. gospel "woe" may well be pro-nounced on anyone who would be so rash as to undertake this ministry without a special call. The initiative for such an undertaking must come from the Father, be a deepening of his creative mystery at work in an individual life. How does this divine initiative become "verbalized"? In terms of such offices as superior or director of novices, it is the community which calls through election or through appointment. In regard to other expressions, for example those of spiritual direction or the formative influence of closeTriend-ship, the call still must be "spoken" by another. Spiritual direction ministry can be undertaken with greatest sureness when it is a response.to the expressed desire of others and not just a matter of embarking on a new apostolate. Similarly, the bonding of close friendship can never be a self-determined pro-ject; it is also a matter of call/response. Another way in which the vocation to formation ministry is actualized is through the reality of talent and gift. Are we able to be of service? Does past experience and training hold promise that our ministry will be fruitful for ourselves as well as for others? Even past difficulties which have allowed us to experience His power at work in our weakness may be real indicators of call and capacity for response. But all of these are only "hints." Election or appointment is the fallible work of very human instruments. Talents point to potential; but every Until Christ Be Formed in You / 489 possibility is not meant to be realized. A still clearer indication of divine initiative is found in our present response to the challenges of such a ministry. Do its painful challenges work redemption in us? Are we raised up by its self-emptying demands? Does the dailiness of this service help us to incarnate our most personal response to the Lord? If so, then we may be still more certain of our call and go on to give to it a life's commitment. For like every call, this ministry, if it is to be truly vocational, must make a lifelong difference. At first this may seem an unwarranted development. Aren't we talking about something limited in time, an office to be held for a few years and so to be taken merely as a present opportunity which will occupy us for a time and from which we will go on to other ministries? Though limita-tions of time and form are surely real enough, what seems even more true is the life-difference that such ministries do make. To enter into a formative relationship with another cannot be limited to a term of office; it is,ongoing. What is formed--or de-formed--in the other makes a critical and lifelong difference for both individuals "in formation." Obviously, the directee will need to respond "for life" to his/her formation, either by accepting its in-fluence and living out of it or :by transcending it; most often, he will need to do some of both. Likewise the director will be equally formed, but only if he com-mits himself to the formative process. More of this in the following section. But first a word on commitment. Like every call, coming from the Father, enunciated in the human accents of election/appointment and in the realized potential of the one called, a vocation to be a director of formation awaits per-sonal response. This answer begins with an acceptive, "I am willing," ".1 am ready to try." And goes on in the everyday of repeated response in the face of difficulty and challenge, as well as the joy of growth and significant dif-ference. Such renewed commitment becomes increasingly formative of still deeper commitments until an initial choice grows into a life-direction, giving its own meaning to everything else that is one's life. When this occurs, as this occurs, a director of formation grows in capacity to be formative of others just because (s)he is more formed himself. Formation in Christ The formation of every Christian is call/response to grow into "full stature': in Christ. There is no other direction for such a life in Christ than that of coming from the Father and returning to him, with the consequent becom- !ng ever more of a "son in the Son." So a vocation to be a minister of forma-tion will be lived out in deepening identification with the life of Jesus, an allowing of his life to be lived in us now. For each person so called this will mean a new enfleshing of His .mysteries of: incarnation realization, paschal transcendence, and eucharistic self-gift. Such will be the living out of a voca-tion to formation ministry. As a consequence, this ministry will become not only a call to serve others 490 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 ~but also an invitation to divine intimacy. Itis unfortunate that service and union have come to be seen as almost antithetical, or, at best, in a kind of ten-sion. The gospel parable of the talents hints at something quite different. There each wise investor of his talents is doubly rewarded:., with still more talents but also with an invitation to "enter into the joy of the Lord" (Mt ~" 25:21,23). So an individual who is called to the formation ministry will find that his talents will grow even as they are given away. New capabilities will be discovered in response to the needs of others. Even personal poverties will be transformed into experiences that allow one to enter more perceptively into the struggles of another. Such may be some of the ways in which talents in-vested in service of the Master are doubled in his return. But the greatest gift of all is that invitation to deepening intimacy which is extended to every faithful servant. The amount of original talents differs and so the amount of "doubling," but an opportunity for growth in personal relationship is offered each in an invitation to "enter into the joy of the Lord." Formation Ministry and ,Living Incarnation "Putting on the Lord Jesus" (Ga 3:27) could serve as the goal of all Chris-tian formation. What concerns us here is how the minister of formation is called to do this, is helped to do it, by his very service to others. The mystery of the'incarnation centers around such truths as "God so loved the world" (Jn 3:16). the virgin's acceptive, "Be it done unto me" (Lk 1:38) and climaxes in "the word became flesh and dwelt among us" (Jn 1:14). It is these same mysteries of creative love, acceptance and enfleshment of the divine, that will be realized as the formation director becomes Christ in and through service of others. "God so loved the world" (Jn 3:16). Motivation for formation ministry Imust be "rooted in love, grow in love" (Ep 3:18). As has already been sug-gested, it is not so much a task for which one volunteers as a call to which one responds out of love. "I come to do your will" (Ps 40). But this can be no grim conformity undertaken out of duty and it is surely one of the graces of this ministry that any such lack of love will be unmasked by diminished response from others. For individuals know intuitively whether they are being met by ~love or not and they respond accordingly. They also know whether they are loved only when they appear loveable or whether they are loved for themselves, as they are, in all their incompleteness. To be loved even when the sinfulness thatis still a real part of ourselves is most apparent is that merciful love that creates us anew. Such love, complete and "for-giving," is.beyond' the stretches of human capacity; it can only be a gift of sharing in the power of God's love. Yet itis just such a love that is asked of the formation director.for himself, and for those (s)he is called to minister to. This love of the Father for us "even when we are still sinners'~' (Rm 5:8) needs enfleshment this day, in unique circumstances, for particular individ- Until Christ Be Formed in You / 491 uals. But first the Father waits for human response to his promise, "! am with you" (Mr 28:20), "filling you with grace" (Lk 1:28). So a director of for-mation will find that his ministr3i calls for deepening, renewed commitment that will allow divine love to begin its transforming work. Such commitment must come in all the darkness of an acceptive trust that knows only "It is the Lord" (Jn 21:7) and yet responds, "he it done unto me." It goes on to call for a repeated giving body to this initial assent in all the life circumstances which call forth continuing, growing trust. Such trust will be renewed in the face of all those mysterious, slow and "dark" aspects of human growth, during all those times wheia any development at all is more a matter of faith than of vision. Faith grows through believing, and surely someone involved in formation ministry will be called to trust more in the Lord than in any response made out of careful planning or skilled technique, to let go of one's preconceptions and move with the Spirit, to trust one's intuitions even when they cannot be justified with reasons, to believe in the face of discouragement and apparent defeat. Often enough it is only the courageous faith of the director that will allow another to begin to believe in himself or herself. Such faith is rooted in the word of the Lord, not in human promise. Other-wise it will falter when individuals resist and all seems lost, when human mistakes are made despite the best of effort. To assist the Spirit at work in the formation of Christ in another requires an assent, made in faith's unknowing, to all that will be, even to the "end" of apparent defeat and the destruction of all that one has helped to form. For this possibility must also be accepted in a trusting "Be it done." Only, in such faith will the word that has been heard begin to be "made flesh" (Jn l : 14). First of all this must be the incarnation of Jesus, being lived out by the director himself, herself. To be so formed into Jesus is to.grow into that perfect man who is fully responsive to the Father and to others. For anyone called to formation ministry this response will be embodied both in prayer and in service. The prayer of a formation minister will be that of Jesus the mediator who stands before the Father, not in olace oLothers, but alongside of them. It will be the prayer of a life that teaches others to pray by praying. It will know seasons of necessary withdrawal and of .equally neces,sary involvement. It will include a being led by the Spirit into the desert and up upon the mountain top, as well as a responsiveness that remains always open to the immediate needs of others. Such prayer is essential, if the formation minister is to be revelatory of Jesus and of the Father. And this is the central service of any Christian ministry. The director of formation is to so incarnate the God-man that it can be said that anyone who sees hin), her, sees Jesu_.~Ajyjag~to_d_day. And if that weren't challenge enough, the director of formation is also called to reveal the Jesus that is in the other. For we are not meant, it seems, to 492 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 see, perhaps even to attempt to look at, the Jesus that is growing in ourselves. It takes the faithful love of another to mirror him to us. We need another to reveal that our needs as well as our gifts, our as yet unrealized potential as well as our present loveliness, are all beginnings of new life in Christ, a new incar-nation. Formation Ministry and Paschal Transcendence Letting Jesus live his life in us calls for an incarnational assent to the potential that is offered us in baptism; this initial commitment grows with each renewal that allows his life to become still more enfleshed in our being. Such responsiveness on the part of a director of formation will inevitably involve a "Journey up to Jerusalem" (Lk 19:28), a sharing in the dying and rising of Jesus in one's own life'and in the lives of others. Such suffering, no matter how it appears at the time, is never defeat; it is lpromise of paschal victory. But first the cross. The suffering we speak of here is not primarily a matter,of pain but rather the sum of all that must be borne 'until Christ be formed ' (Ga 4:19) in ourselves and in others. For to be in formative relationship with another means a being open that implies vulner-abilitY,; it risks letting other~ come close enough to us so that they may be touched, so that we may touch them. Such "touching" is apt symbol for the 'healing that isthe paschal victory of all redemption. But redemption is a costly process and consequently the director of formation is inevitably committed to renewed sharing in the sufferings of Christ "for the sake of his body" (Col 1:24). The sufferings of formation work include not only the expenditure of time and energy that are part of the price of any worthwhile undertakingobut they go on to ificlude the deeper sufferirigs of respons'iveness to others in the critical struggles of their being redeemed, and they culminate in the self-gift that is in-evitable in any process oftransformation. In this work of redemption' ~vith ~11 its suffering the director will find his or her own life being changed into greater identification which will, in its turn, be most formative of other~. So transfor-mation into Christ crucified will not only be a goal Of fo~rmation; it will also be part of the process for all who are "in formation." From the beginning, the'labor of formation will require a sacrifice of time, not only providing a certain allotment of time but even more radically ihe generosity to let one's time be taken by others. To let others take time mbans to give them time: to grow at their own pace, to express themselves in their own way, to claim as their own the time they need. It is not to allow ourselves or others to waste time in self-indulgent claims for attention, in endless repeti-ti6ns, in hesitancy that becomes fixed in cowardice. To give time is rather to offer it so that it may be consecrated to the work of redemption. Such an of-fertory is easily made in words; it is consummated in d~ily responsiveness: to an inconvenient request for "just a minute," to a halting expression of another's journey toward truth, to the setting aside bf a cherished project for Until Christ Be Formed in You / 49~! the sake of another's critical need. What is really given now "belongs" to others; the director can no longer lay claim to ownership, not even the hidden justification of self-pity and complaint. Free time cannot be hoarded; work time, for a dedicated director of formation, must always give priority to per-sons. So schedules bend and plans must be sometimes set aside. All of this "costs," yet, since it is not beyond the agreed upon price of this service, there is no honest cause for complaint. Self-pity is not only useless, it is unjustified and becomes, when this is admitted, singularly unsatisfying. However, such a gift of time, if it is to be a consecration of reality, cannot be without limits. A formation director who attempts to give away every minute attempts to be more than human and so inevitably fails. Everyone's time is limited; and to learn to live within limits is part of the formation pro-cess. To say "no" to what one cannot do, can be a dark ~nd mysterious "yes" to what one really is. For example, refusing a request may be a necessary part of giving priority to prayer. Such a choice is formative for life not only for the director but also for the one (s)he directs. Similarly giving oneself time and leisure to live is part of accepted human-ness. It sounds so easy, so right, but it requires discipline and so becomes another aspect of the cross formed by our temporal limits. When days are full already the temptation to overload must be resisted even when the tempter speaks in beguiling accents of real need or personal opportunity. A director of formation will grow personally and in service to others, as (s)he accepts per-sonal limits, learns to live within them, never failing to take time for prayer, giving unstintingly in service even at the price of personal inconvenience, but also resisting the temptation to become a messiah who needs to save all. As (s)he,grows thus in recognition of "the hour," a director of formation enters ever more deeply into the paschal mystery. This identification with the dying-rising of Jesus goes on in all the close, personal interchange, the "touching" and allowing oneself to "be touched" that is at the heart of the healing power of formation ministry. A director of formation will come to experience, for example, what it means to stand firm against the gravitational pull of sin, bad habits, patterns of self-indulgence. (S)he will have to respond honestly to such in others; but to do so, (s)he will also need to acknowledge and resist the powers of evil in himself. At times, the persons one is called to serve will try to defend themselves by lashing out at the director's faults. They may even be painfully accurate with their barbs and this will hurt; it can also heal, if accepted. Such is the mutuality of the process that valid criticisms, even when spoken in anger, can form humility--in director and. directee. When the criticism is more vindictive than valid, it can still be formative if the director stands firm and continues to love the other. In ministering to others in their "dying" one can expect some denial, anger, depression. To expect it, however, is not to take it all into oneself; this would only be to die oneself without any promise of hope in new life. Denial 494 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 must first be understood for what it is, a kind of first line of defense; but it cannot be condoned. Similarly, anger will require both honest admission and acceptance. If it is to become purifying, its energy must be channeled into con-structive ways lest it turn into self-destruction and the final defeat of closed-minded bitterness. So too, depression will need adequate expression as well as ! understanding compassion; but it too must be passed beyond. What the direc-tor willdo in allof these cases is to give immediate, concrete expression to Christ's understanding, acceptance and compassion, and this will be for him/her a renewed experience of "putting on the mind of Christ Jesus" (PhB2~)~t the same time, (s)he will resist the powers of darkness that could allow moods to mushroom into clouds of negative feelings, infect others with a critical spirit and damage the peace with projections that wound the truth. A director of formation may know in very personal ways the price of battling with such divisive spirits. But this too can become a sharing in the passion of Jesus, who both began and ended his public life in combat with Satan. In thus resisting the powers of evil, the director of formation will also experience those aspects of the passion in which Jesus "emptied himself" (Ph 2:7) taking on our weakness. To be called like Jesus to express the Father's desire that each individual come into freedom is not to experience that one is.a savior. On the contrary, the truth is that we do not save; only the Father does in and through Jesus. And in and through the life that Jesus lives in us today. Just as the power to save was costly for Jesus, cost him his life, so too it will cost life for a committed director. Though at times this may take on dramatic proportions, such crises cannot be anticipated. They can only be prepared for in the everyday, in the selfless bearing of others' burdens, in con- ~stant care, in lived through loneliness, in faced failures. To bear others' burdens without making them feel that they, themselves, have be6ome a burden takes a love that seeks to give rather than to receive. To care for others enough to let that become our heart's response, that is to experience the love that heals. Paul speaks of his "constant care for all the churches" (2 Co 11:28) as one of his most pressing apostolic sufferings; a director who cares will ¯ probably experience something of the same "weight of glory" (2 Co 4:17). Loneliness seems to be something of an occupational hazard for all direc-tors, surrounded though they are by others and yet called into a uniquely selfless kind of relationship with them. Like Jesus, the director must be there for others, not for himself/herself. What (s)he may wish to spe~k about, his/her concerns, feelings, fears or hopes, these are not the focus of the direc-tional relationship. Consequently, the director will probably know end-of-day times, holidays and even "holy days" when personal needs go without much human comfort, or understanding. These can be special opportunities for growth in relationship to the Father, who calls and who promises a corre-sponding grace of new intimacy to all who share the life of sonship. Finally, the director of formation will face failure; not only the burden of Until Christ Be Formed in You / 495 his own inadequacies but the tragedy, on occasion, of human resistance ~to grace, the weakness of repeated denial, reluctance to face truth, the darkness of a mind that cannot go beyond prejudice, and sometimes, even, outright denial for the sake of more immediate satisfaction. These are failures. Not only personal failures, but losses in the cosmic struggle for final redemption. They will not be ultimately defeative, however, if faith on the part of the direc-tor can transform them into claims on the power of God. And it is the power of the Father at work in the world, particularly the world, of "beloved sons" (Mt 3:17), that promises and makes possible, final triumph. This is the "secret" of the director's ability to empower others. (S)he trusts so completely in the Father's redemptive love that others are enabled to respond more fully, more freely. This is resurrection. And it is surely one of the paschal joys of formation ministry to see individuals begin to trust enough that they are willing to risk the darkness of buried fears, mixed motivations, strong conflicts. Only when these are faced and gone through can risen life begin to be realized. It is in such "passing through" that the director knows most fully the mystery that death gives way to glory. The promise of such Easter rising will be realized every time love is victorious over limitation, temptation, and human weakness, and new life comes.into the mystical Body of Jesus. Formation Ministry and Eucharistic Presence The formative process of "putting on Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:27) begins with an incarnational enfleshing of spirit; it continues in a passing through death into new trust and hope and joy; it culminates in an abiding presence that transforms the bread of our work and the wine of our pain into Eucharist. To live a eucharistic life, a director of formation will need to be really present in faith, to be offered in a daily sacrifice ~of praise, and, ultimately, to be transformed in the very body of Jesus. Eucharist realizes the abiding presence of Jesus, his remainingwith us even after he has passed through death into the full glory of his Father. It is one of a formation director's continuing joys to be allowed to. be_a.co-presence of Chris_____t in the lives of so many others. But such presence, if it is to be truly eucharistic, has to remain constant no matter what the times or seasons, places or persons. To be present in the present is, then, one of the ways in which the forma-tion director is challenged to live eucharistically. Surrendering the past into the mercy of God, letting go of hurts, transcending emotions'whose reality is chiefly out of former experiences, forgiving with enough love to forget as well: these are some of the ways in which what has been must be transcended to let the present break through. For it is only in the sacredness of present reality that God's gift can be received and given again. Such presence will also demand that a formation director set aside per-~ sonal concerns, to gift another with loving attention in the present moment. 496 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 (S)he will also need to transcend felt preference for this individual or that one, in order to be more given to each person who comes. Like the bread of life that can be received by all, the love of someone called to formation ministry will have to be present for and to many, many different persons. Rarely does a formation director have anything to say about which individuals (s)he will serve; rather (s)he learns to simply be there strongly and quietly, always pres-ent but as a sign to be passed beyond. Here again the director is formed into a eucharistic life through the grow-ing realization of what it means to live as sign of;the Lord's abiding love. First of all such a ministry demands a constant fidelity, if it is to speak of "everlasting love" (Jr 31:3). To be with others even when they are barely there themselves, to remain during the critical hours of choice, as well as the long days when not much seems to happen. To suffer with others in their pain and be companions of every small joy: all this calls for growing unselfishness. But such fidelity speaks significantly of a God who is always with us. And it is this kind of witness that makes a formation director into a sign of Real Presence. But only a sign meant to point beyond itself. Just as eucharistic bread abides as food, but only for this present journey, so too, a director of forma-tion will need to be constant in presence, .but only for the sake of another's going beyond. No sign is meant to call attention to itself but only to the greater reality which it signifies. So too, formation ministry will realize its goals when individuals transcend initial needs and grow more secure in self-direction. But none of us is meant to be so independent that we no longer need formation; our goal is to grow together in mutual formative responsibility. For such growth to occur, the directee will need to let go of "attachment" to direction and the director, to point beyond self toward greater freedom. To live a eucharistic life, a director of formation will also be asked to become an "unending sacrifice of praise" (Heb 13:15). Such a spirit of thanksgiving opens the heart of oneself and others to the Father's goodness, present in all created things. To enjoy one's daily bread requires an asceticism that goes beyond the mood swings which tend to dominate our interior world, as well as the changeable circumstances of everyday life. Such joy transcends immediate perceptions and rests secure in a faith which believes that everything that comes into our lives can be transformed. So the ordinary holds promise of gift and even the painful possesses possibility. It is within our per-sonal power to pronounce consecrating words every time we are acceptive of reality, saying "this is my body," my life, my world, a gift of His love. Such an asceticism of constant joy requires a eucharistic spirit of "giving thanks always" (Ep 5:20). For what are we grateful? Unless our pains as well as our pleasures are included, we have yet to discover the redeeming presence of Jesus offering praise to the Father through the sacrifice of his life. Such a vision of reality sees beyond appearances; it will require the eyes of faith, if we are to accept everything that comes to us as gift. Such living faith can best be caught from others who help us see that even o,._____ur most personal poverties pr.~o- Until Christ Be Formed in You / 497 vide opportunity for God's power to break through. Like wheat and grapes they matter for transformation. Such a spirit of praise for the ordinary and thanksgiving even for the pain-ful can only be celebrated in community. We cannot be grateful unless we are in relation with others; we cannot see with redemptive vision unless others open our eyes to the "glory dwelling in our land" (Ps 85:9). To see the beauty in the ordinary of others' lives will be one of the formation director's causes of celebration. Sharing the vision of someone who is discovering a certain truth for the first time will call forth hymns of praise. Even the cross will be celebrated, not for itself, but for the new life that it promises. A formation director will have ample opportunity t'o know the slow~ ordinary ways of human growth, to believe in the possibility of tra~sforming~ persons into a new body of Christ. His/her faith will be challenged in.the face~ of another's incredulity, "l'll never be any better." "I can't do it." "It's to much for me." In the face of such too human protests, the director can say, not only with words, but far 'm~re powerfully with a whole life's attitude, "Nothing is impossible for God" (Lk 1:37), if.you let his word and work transforni you. In hope, sometimes in a beginning vision of what is being accomplished, a director of formation will finally come to "see" something of eschatological promise. New life is coming; Jesus is being revealed. To help another discover the Jesus that he or she is called to become is surely one of the joys of forma-tion ministry. It is a work of love, for only love is creative enou_gh to let the ordinary become revelatory. So a director of formation becomes Eucharist in a ministry that requires abiding presence, joy-filled offering, and a faith that is open to transforma-tion. But the sacrifice that prepares for such a consecration is effected most really in the everyday of "bread that is broken" and "blood that is poured out" (Mr 26:26-27). For this ministry will, at times, require the kind of giving of one's body and blood beyond what can be asked, much less required. Only love can dare to make such demands. And it is out of love that a formation director will respond with a laying down of one's life for others. How is such sacrifice "ac(omplished"? In a giving whose only self-determination is to give everything, even self, away. The "accidents" of such an offering will be the gifts of time and energy, patience and persistence, shared pain and continuing struggles to respond; these will be the appearances that remain. They signify the constant ordinariness of this sacrificial ministry; they are the human externals giving form and expression to th~ desire that one's life be given to nourish the growth of others into fuller union in Christ. Underneath these and other external accidents of this ministry of forma-tion, an essential change takes place. That life which is "laid down for others" (Jn 15:13) will gradually be transformed into the life of Jesus who "gave himself as a ransom for many" (Mt'20:28). And it is in the giving that the transformation will be effected. Just as Jesus became savior in the living out 4911 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 of his mission, so too a director of formation will grow into greater identifica-tion with Jesus, by living out his saving mission, even to accepting the repeated small deaths that it entails. In this way transformation will be effected: "I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me" (Ga 2:20). Such interior change from living one's own life to allowing Christ to live his life, his mysteries, in us can transform the ordinary bread of human effort into a new sacramental reality. What is given becomes more significative, and so more effective. What is signified, what is really effected, is the love of God poured out in the Spirit of Jesus. Life becomes___a~from the Father, an acceptance of what is offered a .nd a_._~more.and_.more total return. This is the life of sonship. It is what all are called to live, what Jesus desires to live in us, if we allow him. For a, director of formation who is willing to give, who is willing to give with a whole life's body and blood, such self-donation promises a communion that grows into ever closer identification. And this, not only for oneself, but also for those to whom one ministers. In this way the mysteries of Christ will not simply be remembered; they will be celebrated anew in the lives of all who are involved in the formative process. Each individual will be called to live again the realism of the incarnation, the transformation of dying-rising, and the self-gift of eucharistic presence. And this very living will be transforming, until each of us and all of us together finally come to "form that one body which is Christ Jesus come to full stature" (Ep 4:13). A nnuncialion Stirring summer air salutes her cheek, Then tomorrows whirl inside her Kaleidoscope of thunderstorm and sunrise. She cups a question--"How?"--around the message To know its shape, And strikes white-hot divinity. "Let it be done!" Storm and sun explode In searing glory That contracts into a spark Within her womb. Sister Mary Cabrini Durkin, O.S.U. 1339 East McMill~n Street Cincinnati, OH 45206 Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension Robert Hale, O.S.B., Camald. Father Hale is the Roman Cfftholic Prior of Incarnation Priory, an ecumenical monastic com-munity sponsored jointly by the Camaldolese Order and the (Anglican) Order of the H61y Cross. His address is Incarnation Priory; 2451 Ridge Road; Berkeley, CA 94709. What relation can exist between ecumenism and the contemplative orders? Or indeed (and more importantly) between ecumenism and the more con-templative dimension in every religious, in every Christian life? ls there something about ecumenism that can reach down to that level and profoundly engage it? Or does ecumenism simply mean attending conferences and crack-ing technical theological books? If such were the case, it would probably run the risk of becoming just another cultural activity for churchy people, and fade sooner or later, with the emergence of a new fad. There are in fact some telling indications that ecumenism can reach down to the contemplative dimension, nourish it and challenge its full commitment. One thinks of a Taizi:, for instance, or of Chevetogne; one remembers a Thomas Merton, so profoundly ecumenical throughout his entire spiritual journey. The list of communities and individuals that witness to this con-templative dimension of ecumenism could certainly be extended at length. But what is it about ecumenism that does reach into the contemplative level? And indeed what is it about contemplation which (perhaps) really requires an ecumenical opening out? This article will seek to probe some of the ways these two areas overlap and interact. Ecumenism and Prayer of Petition Of course one of the most obvious ways t'hat the two are brought together is the moment of petitionary prayer. And it is precisely the contemplative who 499 500 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 is not ashamed to ask for things from the Father, for the more we advance in prayer, the more experientially we know that all is grace. So the more childlike our prayer can become, insistently asking. Cassian, for instance, proposes to very advanced contemplatives the constant repetition of the verse from the Psalms: "O God make speed to save me: O Lord make haste to help me.'" This contemplative form is an "important stage''2 towards the emergence of the Prayer of Jesus in Sinite and Athonite Hesychasm.3 "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me" is not the only formula used, but the prayer almost always has the.character of a petition.4 In the western tradition, the author of the Cloud suggests that when contemplatives pray in words, "their words are few. A short prayer pierces the heavens.''5 This also because "the contemplative must hold himself continually poised and alert at the highest and most sovereign point of the spirit,"6 and at that level one isn't loquacious. And what should this briefest of prayers be? Let me try to illustrate what I mean with an example from real life. A man or woman ter-rified by sudden disaster is forced by the circumstances to the limits of his personal resources, and marshals all his energy into one great cry for help. In extreme situations like this, a person is not given to many Words nor even to long ones. Instead, summoning all his strength, he expresses his desperate need in one loud cry: "Help!'" One could multiply the citations from contemplative authors,8 but the point probably doesn't need belaboring: the contemplative, like the insistent widow in Christ's parable (Lk 18:1-8), is not afraid to lose a little dignity and time in beating urgently on the door. The Fathers speak of the contemplative also as a Jacob who must frequently wrestle with God. George Herbert's striking poem entitled "Prayer" re-evokes this more urgent and dramatic function of prayer: Engine against th'AImightie, sinners towre, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear.~ ' John Cassian, Conferences, X. 10; 2. Sources Chr~tiennes (Paris: Les l~ditions du Cerf, 1958) LIV, p. 88. 20. Chadwick, John Cassian (Cambridge: University Press, 1968), p. 106. ~ See for example A Monk of the Eastern Church, The Prayer o f Jesus (New York: Desclee, 1967), pp. 29-58. ~ Ibid., pp. 65f. ' The Cloud of Unknowing and The Book of Privy Counseling (New York: Image Books, 1973), pp. 95-96. 6 Ibid., p. 95. ' Ibid., p. 95-96; see also W. Johnston, The Mysticism of the Cloud of Unknowing (St. Meinrad: Abbey Press, 1975), pp. 168-172. ~ See for instance Ludovicus BIosius on "Aspirations" in A Book of Spiritual Instruction (Maryland: Newman Press, 1955), pp. 30-37; see also A. Baker, Holy Wisdom: Directions for the Praye~ of Contemplation (London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1950), pp. 509-518, etc. * George Herbert, The English Poems (London: Dent, 1977), p. 70. For an Orthodox analysis of the mystical theology in Herbert's poetry see Sister Thekla, George Herbert: Idea and Image (Buckinghamshire: Greek Orthodox Monastery, 1974). Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension / 501 We perhaps need a little of this violent urgency when praying about reunion. We have gotten our Christian collective selves in quite a mess. Anglicans have been praying for centuries that God might "give us the grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions.'''° More recently, Vatican lI has endeavored also to stir up Catholics to "remorse over Christian divisions and a longing for unity.'"' But ecumenical theologians are unanimous in insisting that we're not going to be able to get out of this one trusting merely in our own skills. Authentic reunion in diversity will be primarily a gift. But we, like the lame and blind in the Gospels, must beg for the miracle. Christ isn't going to force it down our throats. Shifting Cassian's (and the Psalmist's) prayer into the plural, we must beg: "O Lord, make speed to help us!" Or maybe we'll just cry out with the author of the Cloud." "Help!" Ecumenism and Contemplative Renewal Thomas Merton, in an important article published the year of his death, and which well merits rereading, argues the intrinsic connection between ecumenism and contemplative renewal.'2 With the Counter-Reformation, contemplative life tended to assume an "inflexible" form, adopt a "stern em-phasis on 'regularity,' not to say legalism" which was "justified by a casuistical and sometimes arbitrary theology" and marked by "touching, though bizarre, manifestations of mystical stamp.'"3 One of the occupational hazards of the post-Tridentine contemplative ~ndeavor is that in its rigidity and tension it must sustain "an illusion of Special election and of incorruptible truth." ,4 The "contemplatives" caught up in this self-conscious nervousness can "do so much to save their souls that they lose them., they concentrate on such particular, limited aspects of good that they become perverse and singular.'"~ Anyone who has some acquaintance with contemplative monasteries and convents, and with "contemplative souls," is quite aware that Merton is on to something; the danger he is talking about is still inside our prayer life. What might serve as a protection and antidote? Merton proposes a good swig of ecumenism. He is talking specifically about monasteries, but the argument clearly has a wider relevance: The monastic life must preserve or acquire an ecumenical relevance, in the form of an ,o The Book of Common Prayer(New York: Oxford University Press, 1952), p. 37; this prayer has fortunately been conserved in the new Book of Common Prayer (New York: Seabury Press, 1977), p. 818. " Decree on Ecumenism, Introduction, n. I, in Abbot, p. 342. ': :T. Merton, "Ecumenism and Monastic Renewal," Journal of Ecumenical Studies (1968), reprinted in Contemplation in a World of Action (New York: Doubleday, 1971); citations here will be from the book. ,5 Ibid., p. 185. " Ibid., '~ Ibid., pp. 185-186. 502 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/4 openness which is not only ready and able to discuss credal or sectarian differences w~tla polite detachment, but which is able to share on the deepest level the risks and agonies of Christian crisis, i6 If the problem isnervous rigidity and narrowness, clearly the opening out that ecumenical consciousness requires can constitute a needed healing force. Thus Merton is delighted that "monasteries are promising to become centers not only of ecumenical discussion but of deeply lived and participated ecumenical experience. ' ' ' 7 The author of the Cloud speaks of the "arduous toil" of the "con-templative work.'"8 For such a taxing activity, we need the solid nourishment of the Word, of the Eucharist, of the Fathers. Our own extremely rich Catholic heritage has often been rather diluted by post-Tridentine devo-tionalism, by anti-quietism squeamishness regarding contemplative prayer. The Reform insistence on the centrality of the Word, the Anglican and Orthodox awareness of the Patristic heritage, contemplative traditions that have flourished in other Churches--all these can nourish and broaden our own contemplative prayer. Merton himself is an evident example of a Catholic contemplative growing constantly from an openness to so many other heritages. If contemplation consists in so growing in union with God that our deepest consciousness expands to the dimensions of his love, certainly that love is limitless, and his salvific will embraces all men. If Christ has come to batter down men's walls and grant us his koinonia and reconciliation, surely he is the chief and principal ecumenist. And as we grow in union with him through con-templative prayer, then we shall become ecumenists at this deepest level of our Christ life. Contemplation and Ecumenical Renewal But if ecumenism can revitalize our contemplative life, it is also true that contemplation can contribute decisively to the growth of true ecumenism. Jean Tillard has noted: The reunion of two separated churches is not a mechanical process. And it cannot be the result only of theological discussions and official authoritative decisions. It is primarily a spiritual matter.Our reconciliation will be a true one and our unity a full one only if they are spiritually prepared and spiritually received. In other words, reunion has a mystical dimension." ~ Ibid., pp. 186-187. " Ibid., p. 196; see concrete proposals in R. Hale, "The Benedictine Spirit in Anglicanism," American Benedictine Review (Sept. 1979), pp. 245-248. '~ Cloud, op. cit., p. 83. '~ J. Tillard, Sermon preached at Mass of Reconciliation, Holy Cross Monastery, West Park N.Y., Sept. 18, 1976. OLcourse theDecree on Ecumenism insists that "spiritual ecumenism"-- conversion of heart, prayer and holiness of life--constitutes the "soul of the whole ecumenical movement." Ch. 11, nn. 7-8, in Abbot, pp. 351-352. Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension /503 If there is one aspect that has been wanting, the expert ecumenist continues, it is precisely this contemplative dimension: During the last years, we probably did not care sufficiently about this profound dimen-sion. We had a theological, doctrinal official ecumenism. Did we have a real spiritual one?2o The need of this contemplative dimension to fortify the ecumenical movement is probably more urgent than ever. Cardinal Hume has recently noted that ecumenism seems to be entering "a phase which is characteristic in the spiritual life--the dark night of the soul.''2' The analogy is most telling, because the dark night "follows on an initial period of fervor and enthusiasm and, when it happens, the soul runs the risk of giving way to frustration and impatience. It can sometimes have the impression of having been abandoned by God.''2~ Anyone acquainted with the current ecumenical situation will recognize the aptness of the Cardinal's reference. But the only way to get through the dark nights, according to St. John of the Cross, is through a most profound faith that is nourished from within by a contemplative experience of God's loving faithfulness. Things ecumenical do seem rather blocked at this point, and flashy joint liturgies and improvised lowest-common-denominator accords are not going to get us through. It may be that only the tenacious stay-ing power of contemplative experience will do it. Towards the beginning of this article, the importance of contemplative petitionary prayer was noted; but perhaps even more basically than that, ecumenism needs contemplative faith. Two Visions The ecumenical hope proposes a vision of a "coming great Church" in which each ecclesial community will .~be able to maintain its own unique spiritual and theological heritage, but all will be bound up in one sacramental and doctrinal communion, and rooted in the one Christ.~ The contemplative badly needs this beautiful ecclesial vision. It is a kind of giant mandala that reveals the Center, and also the circumference of his prayer. It is also a macrocosm of what his own spiritual life should be: the harmonious intercom- 20 j. Tillard, op. cit. 2' B. Cardinal Hume, cited in Catholic Herald (July 6, 1978), p. 3. 22 Ibid. 2~ Pope Paul VI, in treating of the reunion of the Anglican Communion and the Roman Catholic Church, sketched in broad outline one aspect of this vision: "There will be no seeking to lessen the legitimate prestige and the worthy patrimony of piety and usage proper to the Anglican Church when the Roman Catholic Church--this humble Servant of the Servants of God--is able to embrace her ever beloved Sister in the one authentic communion of the family of Christ: a com-munion of origin and of faith, a communion of priesthood and of rule, a communion of the Saints in the freedom and love of the Spirit of Jesus." Pope Paul VI, Homily for the Canonization of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales, L 'Osservatore Romano (26-27 October 1970), p. 2. See also Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 62 (1970), p: 753. See also R. Hale, "La comunione anglicana: chiesa ponte, chiesa sorella," Vita Monastica l October 1978), pp. 3-11. 504 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/4 munion of the several distinct dimensions of his being (for instance: body, mind, spirit) centered in Christ. It is also a model of what every community ideally would be--the unique personality of each safeguarded in the one pro-found intercommunion in Christ. The contemplative certainly needs the ecumenical vision. But the contemplative also has a vision: his glimpse of that communion which binds the Son to the Father in the one Spirit. And that one primordial communion is the source and measure of the ecclesial communion we seek; the prayer is often enough cited, but it deserves continual remeditation, for it sums up the contemplative and the ecumenical hope: "Father, that they may all be one, as you are in me and I in you, so also may they be in us" (Jn 17:21). REPRINTS FROM TIlE REVIEW "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer," H. F. Smith, S.J . 30 "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice," M. Ollva, S.J . 50 "Celibate Genitality," W. F. Kraft . 50 "Colloquy of God with a Soul that Truly Seeks Him" . . 30 "Consciousness Examen," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Prayer of Personal Reminiscence," D. J. Hassel, S.J . 60 "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .75 "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio," ¯ M. Neuman, O.S.B . 50 "The Four Moments of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 Please include 75¢ postage and handling charge with pre-paid orders. An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice I1: Community, Prayer and Eucharist Max Oliva, S.J. Father Oliva recently completed seven years as Director of Social Ministries for the California Province of the Society of Jesus. He is now Coordinator-Facilitator of Companions for Justice, a summer program of insertion with the poor for Jesuit priests and brothers. This summer he will be conduciing workshops on faith' and justice for laity, religious, students, seminarians, educators and people who work in social ministry. He continues to reside at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Introduction' The author pointed out in Part I of this article2 that we are called to the ministry of social justice by Jesus Christ, who works with us and whose Spirit is the source of our courage, wisdom, power and hope. It is God who must be the center of our lives, the focal point of our iden-tity: God's personal love for us is the basis of our worth. One writer expresses it this way: Christianity is such a radical and sweeping counter-stance to accepted standards and ways of action that the couiage it requires can only come from the security that is founded in being loved as sons and daughters of God. Only if we are firmly founded in dependence on God's love can we be willing to take the risks and suffer the pain involved ' The author is indebted to Father Bill Spohn, S.J., Assistant Professor of Theological Ethics at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley, for his helpful comments in the preparation of this article. 2 Part I of "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice" appeared in the September, 1977, issue of Review for Religious. 505 506 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 in really living out our Christian call to love others as compassionately and completely as Jesus does? . If God is the center of our lives, we can be people of unconditional trust, trust that transcends our fears of getting involved in justice issues, trust that looks beyond our uncertainties and insecurities, our skepticism and lack of belief, even what is reasonable or logical. It is unconditional trust in the loving power of God. Abraham had this trust: "I will make you a great nation and I will bless you and your descendants." Abraham went as the Lord directed him." (Gn 12:2,4) Mary also had this unconditional trust: "The angel said, 'You have found favor with God. You shall conceive a son and give him the name Jesus.' . Mary responded: 'I am the servant of the Lord. Let it be done to me as you say.' " (Lk 1:30,31,38) Each believed that nothing is im-possible with God. Each entrusted even though they had no idea what the future would bring. So it is unconditional trust that God's promise will be fulfilled through us, that God does not call us to do more than we are capable of, and that he is with us as we follow his call whether it be to enter into the lives of the materially poor or to encounter unjust social structures and those who manage them. Community In our faith commitment to justice, we depend on other people for challenge and support. Community may mean the members of one's family, selected friends, or a religious congregation. Our community may consist of those we live with as well as our "extended community," that is, people out-side one's immediate living situation, men and women, who more explicitly share a similar commitment to justice with us. Whatever the shape community takes for us, other people are indispensable if we are to be continually re-freshed and empowered to act for justice. In regards to the ministry of social justice, the author has found certain values in community to be important for an effective ongoing commitment'. In some ways, one can say that charity, or justice, begins at home, where we learn to value people above issues, where we learn to respect and trust dif-ferent ways of responding to the injustices of our world. However, it can also be said that the change~ that happen in us when we enter into another culture (be it ethnic or the culture of poverty)-- losing our fears, working through our insecurities and feelings of repugnance in a new environment, being freed from our prejudices--enable us to be more loving to the "difficult" people we live with, the sick, the aged, the lonely, the alcoholic, thehard to get along with. We go out to,the poor .where we are enriched by them and return to com-munity where we are better able to enrich others and invite them to become more involved in the struggle for justice. ~ St. Mary Seraphim, P.C~P.A., review of A Transformed Mind and Heart--Becoming Vulnerable and Compassionate, by Joseph Breaull, in Spiritual Life, Fall 1979, p.183. A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice: H / 507' In order to effectively call one another to a faith justice commitment demands that our relationships be reciprocal: mutual trust and respect, open-ness to be challenged as well as to challenge, presuming goodwill on the part of the other, and inviting one another to go beyond the comfort of one's present degree or manner of commitment. One needs realistic expectations in looking to another's progress, an ability to rejoice in.small victories and enough self-insight to realize from one's own heart how intricate and demanding the pro-cess of conversion is even in regards to seemingly "little" things. Some people are more aggressive than others in promoting justice in their community. The one whose posture it is to confront others needs to be com-passionate in his br her attitude and behavior towards the other. Like Jesus, he or she will not "break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick" (Mt 12:22). On the other hand, other people are more low-key in their approach, one might even say timid at times. They may need to push themselves to speak out for the materially poor or for issuesof peace. Each approach needs to find its balance that the Lord may more clearly be known and the kingdom be furthered. It sometimes happens that the more aggressive approach opens up the door for the more gentle person to enter the scene. As one whose own style is low-key, it is the author's experience that he is often invited to present ideas on social justice in situations where a more confrontative approach has proved fruitless. This is especially the case when the person or group is at the begin-ning stage of a commitment to justice. It frequently happens in community that a "pioneer~type person"--the first one into a new field or apostolic endeavor--is tempted to bitterness and withdrawal because of a perceived lack of support from his or her own col-leagues. This is certainly true in the area of actions for peace and justice. What is actually often occurring is a fear and defensiveness on the part of those not similarly involved, that what they do and standfor is somehow under attack or being devalued. Take, for example, the case of a woman religious who belongs to a congregation which has traditionally taught in schools. She asks fora different kind of ministry, to work in a low-income area as a parish sister or to become a lawyer and work.with the materially poor. She may appear a threat to the other sisters without even being conscious of it much less deliberately trying to achieve' it. She needs to be aware of the possible effects of her seemingly "radical" move, not to discourage her from following her call, but to prevent her from becoming marginal with her congregation. The pioneer needs to transcend his or her own uncomfortable feelings toward the community and reach out to the others in an ~honest request for support. Such an attitude and stance is likely not to polarize, but to touch hearts in compas-sion and reconciliation. Mutual support and education are much more likely to result. Community can be an excellent vehicle for calling forth the best that is in us and helping us to realize and own our gifts. One value of having different 508 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 approaches to the ministry of social justice in a community is that others help us to clarify our own way of responding. It is the author's experience that a real help to enhancing the contribution of community is some form of group process. Group meetings can take the form of discussions of sensitive issues, such as, communal and personal life-style, or how to support a community member who out of conscience has decided to perform an act of civil disobedience and risks jail. Community gatherings can be used for the purpose of sharing one's faith and the motiva-tion one has in acting for justice. A meeting may be the kind of forum necessary for a member of the community to share his or her fears of acting for justice or the vulnerability one is experiencing in acting for justice. It is helpful in such a process not to be anxious over the seeming lack of "measured results," but to learn to.be at peace with the process, even the pain that others may be experiencing or the struggle that the group is undergoing. Some groups may find it helpful to bring in non-community people as resources, such as those who are materially poor or those who are involved in actions for justice. Whatever the actions of the individuals in community or the community itself, reflection on these efforts in the light of faith protects us from either harsh actions in the name of "justice" or misguided sentimentality in the name of religion. The Eucharist To gather together in worship is the most profound way we express ourselves communally. Liturgy, whether eucharistic or not, unites us to one another and to our God and to the poor and oppressed in the world in a unique way. Let us take a few moments to consider the Eucharist. We believe that Jesus Christ is really present in the Eucharist. In the Eucharist we are united with Christ in a special way and with the Father through Christ. In our commitment to justice we are called to image Jesus in his own commitment. He identified himself with the poor and the marginated of his day and challenged those who had much to share themselves with those who had little. We receive in the Eucharist the same Christ who received the mission to "bring good news to the poor, to proclaim'liberty to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and freedom for the oppressed" (Lk 4:18). God is the source of our compassion and our commitment to justice. We are to be "perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect" (Mr 5:48): loving, merciful, just. We come to the eucharistic table aware that we are not self-sufficient, that we need courage and commitment beyond our own ability and desire to be so. We are empowered to be Christ in our world through the nourishment that is the Eucharist. The Eucharist, however, is not simply a private devotion or only a per-sonal experience of the presence of God. It is personally strengthening, to be sure, if approached with openness and faith, but it is also outer-directed to the community gathered at each Eucharist and to the whole world. The Eucharist A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice: H / 509 is global vision, for it is the Redemptive Act for the whole of humanity. It is not only at the center of our lives as Christians but also at the center of the world. The Eucharist is at the center of our commitment to social justice. It calls us out of ourselves to be like Jesus who gave himself in love and in total self-surrender to his friends. The Eucharist is self-gift, an open-ended gift of ourselves, for the many. The eucharistic table becomes the starting point of a great revolution, and the victims of this revolution are those who share the Eucharist. It is a call for a change of hearts, not a revolution in which the blood of others is shed, but one's own.4 Although it is undeniable that eucharistic celebrations build community among those who participate in them, Eucharist also calls us out to the suffer-ing people in our world, oppressed and oppressor alike. We are invited to be the Body of Christ, to be his memory in the world, to be his Body given for the many and his Blood poured out for the many.s Gospel values and realities relevant to the faith that does justice are abun-dantly present in the Eucharist. We begin our act of worship by acknowledg-ing to one another and to our brothers and sisters everywhere our complicity in the injustices of our time, both our personal sin and our lack of concern and commitment to changing indifferent and unjust social structures. We face our fears and timidity, our temptations to doubt and discouragement, our tenden-cies to try to do good without God, our temptations to build our identity in our works for justice, and we ask that the liberating power of God free us from whatever enslaves and paralyzes us. We ask too for reconciliation with our oppressed brothers and sisters whose hope in a more just world is to some degree dependent on our efforts to achieve justice. The Old and New Testaments challer~ge and invite us to participate in the liberating efforts of our time, to do justice, to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, to give to the blind new sight, and to set the downtrodden free. The Scriptures motivate us and support us in our efforts to transcend our own interest and to follow the call of God to universal compas-sion and solidarity, a call that influences how we act and how we live. The Eucharist helps us to a more fundamental identification with the materially poor and powerless as we cohtemplate Jesus identifying himself with the poor and the hungry. "In the Eucharist we receive Christ hungering in the world. He comes to us, not alone, but with the poor, the oppressed, the starving of the earth. Through him, they are looking to us for help, for justice, for love expressed in action. Therefore we cannot properly receive the Bread of Life unless at the same time we give bread for life to those in need wherever and whoever they may be.''6 ' Samuel Rayan, S.J., "Feeding of the Five-thousand: A Meditation," Religion and Society, Volo XX, No. 1, March 1973, pp. 5-7. ~ Ibid. ~ Pedro Arrupe, S.J~, "The Hunger for Bread and Evangelization," Address to the 41st Inter-national Eucharistic Congress, 1976, p. 1. 510 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 In a world that spawns alienation and various forms of dehumanization, the community that gathers around the table of the Lord speaks eloquently of other realities: true sisterhood and brotherhood, that the glory of God is people fully alive, human dignity, and the positive value of human develop-ment--. both materially and spiritually. The Eucharist calls us to accountability and responsibility for our world in a commitment that is rooted in the solitude of our hearts. Prayer The importance of prayer in a life dedicated to the faith lhat does justice cannot be overemphasized. There are so many forces and attractions that endeavor to steer one away from a consistent commitment to justice. Beyond one's occasional fears and hesitations to become involved, there are the anguish of those who are oppressed which can promote our :compassion but also tempt us to despair .and the obdurateness of social structures and the self-interest of those who manage them which can overwhelm and paralyze us. There are. also temptations to think that one is the Messiah and feelings of being rejected by one's community and friends when their commitment is dif-ferent from our own, which can result in bitterness and alienation. There are the temptations to permanent withdrawal from the struggle for justice or the tendency to opt for the values and life-style that one has spent a good deal of time.and effort opposing--the "good life." Prayer is essential if God is to re-main: the center of our commitment to justice. It is in the quiet moments .of prayer that we discover who our center is, our loving God or the idols that threaten to divert our attention and our commitment. Prayer--God's presence to us and our presence to God--is a key means~of deepening our relationship with the One who calls us to the ministry of faith and justice and of coming to know ourselves with true self-knowledge. However, just as the Eucharist has both a vertical and a horizontal dimen-sion so must our life of prayer: Our union with God leads us to loving service of the b.rothers,and sisters, and nourishes that commitment. Thomas Cullinan writes about it in this way: One df the great classical portrayals of the Buddh~ shows him sitting in the normal lotus position with his left hand upturned, holding a begging bowl, and his right hand resting on the other knee with one finger pointing down to earth. The left hand, the begging bowl, represents the need for enlightenment. The other hand, resting, poihting down to earth, represents the need for us to be embedded and realistic in the human condition in which we find ourselves. We cannot live anywhere other than where God has asked us to live. Any man of faith can tell one that the tension set up between these two hands, the tension between the need for enlightenment arid serious appreciation of the world we are in, is bound to cause great suffering, great loneliness. We can escape from this tension of living faith by taking the right hand of involvement, or the left hand of enlightenment, to the exclusion of the other. With the right hand; for instance, we can seek to be so relevant to our world that we finish up as humanists with a A Spirituality for ?he Ministry of Social Justice." mere Christian overlay. On the other left hand we can escape the tension-of living faith by constructing for ourselves an alternative society, a special world of Christians who have set UP something alternative to the world in which God has placed them., missing perhaps t~he central point of incarnafi.on.' We can escape the tension of living faith by making of our prayer a private experience of enthusiastic pietism that has no relevance to the political reality in which we live. 'True prayer leads us out of ourselves to be Christ in our world and discover him in others. The same can be said of mysticism as William Johnston writes: Authentic mystical experience necessarily brings with it a great love for all mankind. It can lead to remarkably deep friendship and intimacy in those who share the same ex-perience; it also leads to a great compassion for the poor, the sick, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the imprisoned, the underprivileged . This union or solidarity with the poor and the oppressed is of the very essence of Chrisiian mysticism.8 Prayer is essential for an effective ministry of faith and justice and for the ongoing integration process that is involved. We need, as Bryan Hehir points out, a sense of history as we go about our ministry of justice, a Christian sense of history that has in it the following dimensions: Ultimate success is the eschaton, every work done for justice is redemptive, the Cross marks every great work in the Church, and the risen life governs our perspective.9 Our times of reflection and solitude give us the opportunity to keep this sense and vision of history alive in our hearts. There are many forms of prayer and it is not the intent of this article to ex-plore in any depth the differ6nt ways one can pray. Obviously, shared prayer can be a very enriching experience, a chance to be strengthened in our mutual commitment and an opportunity to recogiaize and value our different insights and ways of responding to injustice. The author has found an annual retreat especially helpful in keeping one centered on the call of God and aware of one's tendencies to enslavement. Some form of ongoing spiritual direction, whether one does this primarily by means of a journal;and occasional sharing with a friend or by means of regular contact with a spiritual director, is a necessary component to one's prayer life, keeping a sense of objectivity and realism alive. We have already touched on the Eucharist which is a profound way of praying. - Not only is an unexamined life not worth living, it is dangerous. The forces of evil as they are embodied in unjust structures and the sinfulness of men and women are more powerful than us, even with our sophisticated tools of social ' Thomas Cullinan, O.S.B., lfthe Eye Be Sound (London, England: St. Paul Publications, 1975), pp. 56-58. * William Johnston, S.J., The Inner Eye of Love (New York: Harper and Row, 1978), p. 132. ' Ft. Bryan Hehir, "The Ministry for Justice," Network Quarterly, Vo. II, No. 3, Summer 1974, p. 4. 512 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 analysis. We need these tools, but even more basically we need union with God in prayer. God's love for us and our world and our growing realization of this personal concern of God gives us the hope and joy that we need to persevere with integrity in the struggle for a more just and human world. Conclusion Community-- Eucharist-- Prayer, each is necessary if we are to live on the level of meaning and not simply on the level of measured productivity or documented results. It is easy in the ministry of faith and justice to get so caught up in the latest issue or in the myriad of justice issues so as to lose the vision of why we are involved, a response to God's call to help build the kingdom. We need the support and challenge of friends. We depend on the nourishment that comes to us in the Eucharist. We rely on the guidance of the Holy Spirit whom we come into contact with in our prayer. God is the center of our commitment to social justice; it is God who calls us out of ourselves to be loving servants of others. Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life Peter J. Kearney Father Kearney teaches Sacred Scripture. His address is The Catholic University of America; School of Religious Studies; Department of Theology; Washington, D.C. 20064. For those who seek to explore how the Bible relates the inner life to active ministry, reflection on the biblical symbols for life can provide rich discoveries. Symbols touch the deeper levels of the human person, the well-springs for both contemplation and action. It is frequently through symbols that the Scriptures speak, unfolding them and interrelating them to draw us into greater awareness of the life speaking within ourselves and to fruitful sharing of this word in ministry. The very first chapter of the Bible describes the origins of life and employs a paradox which sets the tone for many of the reflections that here follow: to live isto be active, but to live fully is simultaneously to be at rest. In creating, God first sets the stage for the appearance of living things. When the "living creatures" come on the fifth and sixth days, the earth is marked by activity and motion. On the seventh day, God is at rest, but with his work completed he is now most fully active, sustaining in creation all that he has made, for creation is a process that is ever continuing, ever renewed (see Ps 104, esp. vss. 27-30), He sustains his creation and remains always at rest, for he never grows weary (Is 40:21-28). He wills that his human creation share his repose, which is really a fullness of life (Ex 31:16-17; Is 40:29-31). Life and Kingship The above-mentioned texts from Genesis, Exodus and Isaiah all come from a relatively late period in Israel's history (the Babylonian Exile in the 513 514 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 sixth century B.C.), but they express ancient ideas on life which had earlier been associated with the royal dynasty of David. The one who most expressed the fullness of life on this earth was the king. For he had asked God for life and God "gave him length of days forever and ever" (Ps 21:5). The poetry of the psalms could attribute divine qualities to the king because he mediated God's blessings to the people and his rule, when properly carried out, expressed God's harmonious ordering of the universe (see Ps 72). Here Israel borrowed from a much more elaborate royal theology in Egypt, where the pharaoh was divinized to a far greater degree. In Egypt, the pharaoh could be regarded as a source of life in his kingdom because a di,vine spirit had been breathed into him by a god and this spirit became the power by which the pharaoh ruled.' This spirit issued in royal pronounce'rnents by which the life of Egypt was sustained. Likewise in Israel, in ideal conditions, the land could be at rest as though it were paradise itself, because the spirit of the Lord "rested" upon the king and enabled him to pronounce decrees which brought justice to the weak but death to the wicked (Is 11:1-9; see also 2 S 23:1-4). Such thinking clarifies the background of Genesis 2 and 3, where the creation and fall of man, while describing human nature in general, is actually a theology of Israelite kingship.2 The coronation of a king was his "being raised up from the dust" (1 K 16:2), just as Adam was formed from the dust of the earth (Gn 2:7).3 Like a king, Adam received the spirit or "breath of life" (Gn 2:7) and then could share in the divine rule, symbolized by his naming the animals (Gn 2:19-20). But unlike the pharaohs or other ancient kings who im-itated them, the Israelite king could make no claims to divinity and thus he was not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of all things, a property of God alone.' The narrative of Adam's failure to obey and his consequent expulsion from paradise is probably a polemic against the abuses of kingship perpetrated by Solomon, who patterned his absolute authority too closely on the Egyptian model. The story also opposes the pagan concept that a superior kind of knowledge (Gn 3:6) was available to those who sought communion with divine powers through the sexual practices of the Canaanite nature wor-ship. Thus the earth yields its fruits only to man's toil (Gn 3:17-19) and not because of the magical rites of the Canaanites. For the king, as for humans in general, the true wisdom is in knowing oneself as a creature of God and rejoic-ing in this condition. ' See W. Wifall, "The Breath and His Nostrils; Gn 2:7b," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 36 (1974), pp. 237-240~ 2 See W. Brueggemann, "David and His Theologian," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 30 (1968), pp. 156-181. ~ See W. Bruggemann, "From Dust to Kingship," Zeitschrift far die Alttestamentliche Wissenscttaft 84 (1972), pp. 1-18. ' See I. Engnell, " 'Knowledge' and 'Life' in the Creation Story" in M. Noth and D. Thomas (eds.), Wi~sdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum, 3; Leiden: Brill, 1969), pp. 103-119~ Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life The results of Adam's failu~ ~ire expressedas a life of wearisome toil upon an earth which resists man's efforts (Gn 3:17-19), a life of exile (Gn 3:23:24). Similarly, weariness, the disturbance of proper order and ultimately exile from the land could be readily associated with the failure of kingship. The prophet Isaiah,could accuse King Achaz of "wearying" both God and man through his failure to trust (Is 7:13). David may have had himself once crowned like a god (2 S 12:30), but his failure to maintain peace within his own family would lead to his own exile from Jerusalem in a procession of almost paralyzed weariness (2 S 15:14-16:14)5 which symbolized the disturbed order of the kingdom. But when the kingship functioned properly, it was as though the land itself had become paradise, and rest was restored. Such a state was symbolized through the figure of Noah (whose name sounds like the Hebrew word for "rest").~ The peaceful rule of the king was expressed figuratively through his holding the waters of chaos in check (Pss 72:8 and 89:26). In the story of Noah, the waters of chaos subside and creation is begun anew (Gn 9:7). God's eternal covenant with Noah (Gn 9:16) symbolizes the Davidic covenant (2 S 23:5), part of God's order in creation (Ps 89:35-38). Light and Truth A further significant borrowing from Egyptian thought was expressed in the Israelite use of sun imagery. In Egypt, the sun was worshipped as the source and sustainer of life. In paintings and carvings, the sun disc was pic-tured with wings, as though it were a huge bird making.its daily flight across the sky, There are traces of such imagery in Israelite poetry.7 When the Israelites were making their way through the desert after the Exodus, God was said to have "spread his wings to receive them," carrying them triumphantly forward (Dt 32:11). Here the symbol of eagle wings is applied to God because the extremely high flight of theeagle made it the most likely bird to provide the symbolism for the wings of the sun. Such metaphor was intended to express the desert period of Israel as a life-giving experience, through the use of the natural symbol for the source of life, the sun. Much later, during the period of the Babylonian Exile, similar imagery could be used to mark the end of exile and therefore of weariness: just as the eagle's long life was imaginatively thought to be due to his high flight near the rays of the sun, similarly "they that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar as with eagles' wings; they will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint" (Is 40:31). The symbol of the wings of God becomes particularly rich in a number of ' R. Whybray, The Succession Narrative: A Study of !i S 9-20 and 1 K I and 2 (Studies in Biblical Theology, Second Series, 9; Naperville: Allenson, 1968), p. 46. 6 See W. Brueggemann, "Weariness, Exile and Chaos (A Motif in Royal Theology)," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 34 (1972), pp. 19-38. ' See J. Murtagh, "Under the Shadow ofthy Wings," TheBible Today, no. 32, November 1967, pp. 2229-2232. 516 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 the psalms. Even though during the religious reform of King Josiah, sun sym-bols were removed from the Jerusalem temple (2 K 23:11), some managed to survive in the hymns which were sung in that temple. For example, Psalm 61 presents the king at prayer (see vs. 7), asking that God give him "rest" and place him "high upon a rock" (the royal throne, see vs. 8); he expresses his longing to take refuge in the shadow of God's wings, thus poetically attributing the life-giving rays of the sun to God, and presenting himself as the one filled with life from God, much as was the pharaoh who transmitted the life-giving rays of the sun to the people by means of his wise and effective rule.8 Elsewhere the pilgrim psalmist rejoices to see the sparrows and swallows sheltering their young in nests built on the temple (Ps 84:4). No doubt this sight specially touched him because it paralleled.his own relationship to God, whom he calls in this same psalm "a sun and a shield" (vs. 12). Such a background clarifies Jesus' complaint against Jerusalem "How often 1 wanted to gather your children together as a mother bird collects her young under her wings, and you refused me" (Lk 1,3:34). Jesus in effect was calling the people to recognize that the life-giving Presence of God which they had associated with the Temple was actually found in him. Because they did not recognize this, their temple would be abandoned (vs. 35). Luke here approaches the theology of John, whose prophecy about the destruction of the Temple contained an allusion to the raising up of the real Temple, the body of Jesus (Jn 2:19-21). Just as the sun is a natural symbol for life, so its brilliance aptly suggests the clarity of knowledge and truth. Thus light can signify the experience of revelation, a sensing of God's personal presence in the temple. In Psalm 36, the author praises God's goodness in having "the children of men take refuge in the shadow of your wings" and exclaims "in your light we see light," that is, the people draw their life from the living God in his temple (vss. 8, 10). In Psalm 27, the king calls God "my light" upon whose loveliness he wishes to gaze in the temple, in an experience of revelation so intimate that it can be described as face-to-face encounter (vss. 4, 8, 9) with One whose tenderness lasts even though that of father and mother might fail (vs. 10). The light of knowledge can also reveal God more indirectly through the maxims of human wisdom and the revealed word of God expressed in Israel's laws and religious traditions. In the case of wisdom thought, Egypt once more supplied a mythological theme, the person of Maat, daughter of the sun god Ra and goddess of justice, order and harmony. She is probably the source for the feminine personification of wisdom in Proverbs 8 and 9, where she invites the youthful-Israelite to come learn of her wisdom contained throughout the book of Proverbs.9 Her pagan origins from the sun express the theme of light s For the role of pharaoh, see, for example, "The Hymn to the Aton" in J. Pritchard (ed.), An-cient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (Princeton University, 1955), pp. 369-37 I. ° See N. Habel, "The Symbolism of Wisdom in Pr I-9" Interpretation 26 (1972), pp. 131-157. Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 517 as the knowledge and wisdoha ~hrough wtiicli mhn can integrate himself into ¯ the universe, which the brilliance of the sun seems to unite in a harmonious whole. This wisdom in the book of Proverbs sometimes appears to be merely practical advice about how to get along in life (e.g., Pr 23), but it is in fact the expression of a deeply moral sense.'° The light of life penetrates deep within man: "A lamp from the Lord is the breath of man: it searches through all his inmost being" (Pr 20:27). Similarly, the light of God's knowledge touches the recesses of man's moral life, penetrating deep in his heart: "The nether world and the abyss lie open before the Lord; how much more the hearts of men" (Pr 16:11). In this saying, the scribe profits from the symbol of the sun apparently going into the world of darkness each evening and uses it to present an image of God seeing deep into the heart of each one. In Psalm 139, the king marvels at this intimate knowledge of him which God possesses (vss. 1-6) and then applies solar attributes to God," praising his brilliance and his omnipresence (vss. 7-12). God's knowledge awakens in the king a strong sense of moral obligation to which he professes his conscience has remained faithful (vss. 23-24). This joining of divine solar imagery and the human response of virtuous practice can be found also in Psalm 112, reen forc-ing the understanding that life has an intrinsically moral dimension. Such thought is echoed in Jesus' words about light as a symbol for personal morali-ty: "The eye is the body's lamp. If your eyes are good, your body will be filled with light; if your eyes are bad, your body will be in darkness. And if your light is darkness, how deep will the darkness be!" (Lk 6:22-23). The Old Testament association between wisdom, morality and light is also distantly echoed in the Epistle of James, which calls God "the Father of~the heavenly luminaries" (Jm 1:17), who gives a "wisdom from above" (3:17), expressed in the moral counsels which pervade the epistle. Israelite thought also applied such language not merely to a general theory of human life, but also to the wisdom which it possessed in its own peculiar religious traditions, grouped under the general heading "law." With regard to specifically legal traditions, just as the Babylonian king, Hammurabi, presented his lawcode as written in obedience to the sun god,'2 so the Israelite king could regard the laws by which he ruled as expressing the wisdom and life-giving power symbolized.by the sun. In Psalm 19, the king describes the harmonious unity of the world, in particular the path of the sun across the sky (vss. 2-7) and then praises the divine precepts as filled with the qualities of the sun: "refreshing the soul., giving wisdom., rejoicing the heart., enlighten-ing the eye., enduring forever" (vss. 8-10). To move beyond the merely legal ,o R. Murphy, "Introduction to Wisdom Literature," Jerome Biblical Commentary (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1968), 28:8. ~'J. Holman, "Analysis of the Text of Ps 139" (Biblische Zeitschrift 14 (1970), p. 225. ,2 See "The Code of Hammurabi" in Pritchard (ed.) Ancient Near Eastern Texts, p. 163. 518 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 traditions, the prophet Ezekiel was no doubt alluding to this same psalm when he said the word of God was "as sweet as honey" (compare Ps 19:11 and Ezk 3:3).' Even though it was a word of doom (Ezk 2:10), upon itdepended the life of both sinner andjust and even Ezekiel himself (3:18-21). Similarly, the legal and historical Israelite traditions in the Book of Deuteronomyhave life-giving properties.Since Deuteronomy represents the religious reform of Josiah and his attempt to purify Israelite religion of its pagan associations, sun sym-bolism is muted here. Moses warns specifically against worship of the sun or any of the celestial bodies (Dt 4:19), but the ancient symbolic association between sunlight and truth is still discernible in his words. Moses' rhetorical challenge to seek through the days of old sii~ce creation and "from one end of the sky to the other" alludes to the eternal path of the sun through the heavens (Dr 4:32); in this same chapter, he has the nations themselves profess that the traditions in Deuteronomy are a sign both of God's intimate relationship with his people and of their great wisdom, two themes traditionally associated with sun symbolism (Dr 4:6-7). Such language prepares for Moses telling the Israelites that there is no need to seek God's command up in "the sky or across the sea; it is rather in their own mouths and hearts (Dt 30: l 1-14). In effect, there is no need to follow the path of the sun, as symbolic source of wisdom. The laws of Deuteronomy, which the people will have thoroughly learned, embody the wisdom they need. Thus Moses can exhort them to "choose life" (30:19), that is, to assimilate the life-giving property which the traditions of Deuteronomy contain. Against this remote background of solar imagery, several aspects of John's gospel are clarified. The entire work conveys a sense of repose, of li.fe in its fullness, possessed by Jesus and communicated to his disciples, Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in him (10:38) and Jesus promises that they will both dwell within the one who is faithful to Jesus' word (14:23). His fullness of life is paradoxically expressed through Jesus' word (14:23). His fullness of life is paradoxically expressed through Jesus' complete control of the cir-cumstances, which surround his death. Gone from this gospel is the agony in the garden. Jesus tranquilly goes to face his captors (18:4-9) and'ultimately bows his head after a solemn proclamation that his work was finished (19:30). John allows the s6tting of Jesus' death to be permeated with an atmosphere of life, thus' giving dramatic expression to his theology that the raising up of Jesus on the cross was simultaneously a raising up to glory (8:27; 12:32), that his death is a source of life(l 2:24). In addition, the protective presence of God which had been revealed to Israelites in the temple is now revealed in Jesus. This presence had been announced during liturgy in Old Testament times by formulas such as "l, the Lord, am your God" (Ex 20:2) and "I am the first and I am the last" (Is 44:6); throughout John's gospel Jesus echoes such expressions, identifying himself, for example, as the Vine, the Good Shepherd, the Resurrection and Life and thus conveys that the life-giving presence of God in the temple is now to be found in Jesus' own person. Seeing Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life God in the temple now happens in a new way, for one can look upon Jesus and see the Father (14:9). Of course, the themes of light and life repeatedly inter-twine throughout John's gospel. As in the Old Testament, this light is closely related to knowledge, revelation and truth; also, this truth has a strong moral dimension, for the light which Jesus brings is expressed in what the Father has commanded (12:46-50) and those who are loved by the Father obey the com-mandments Jesus gives (14:21), all summarized in the commandment of love 05:9-17). Just as the Israelite king ruled with justice (Ps 72), so Jesus associates his own kingship with the truth which is a life-filled communion with God: ". I am a king., the reason why I came into the world is to testify to the truth" (Jn 18:37). The.moral dimension of truth is further expressed by speaking of the light as showing the way one should walk (l 1:9-10; 12:35-36). It receives its fullest formulation when Jesus proclaims that he is the Way, the Truth and the Life (14:6), thus indicating that union with God reaches its fullness through union with the person of the risen Jesus. Implied in this union is a sharing in the "sabbath rest" of God himself, a life-filled, activity-filled rest which belongs unceasingly to Jesus, who revealed on a sabbath day that "My Father is at work until now, and I am at work as well" (5:17). Several other New Testament Passages express a similar theology of life, among them Jesus' praise of his Father and invitation to his disciples in Mt 11:25-30. Jesus proclaims the mutual knowledge between Father and Son, suggesting the intimacy frequently found in the gospel of John. As in this lat-ter gospel, the Son can reveal the Father to those whom he wishes (Mt 11:27). He then offers to the weary a promise of refreshment and rest, which is actually a fullness of life. Speaking after the manner of ancient kings, Jesus proclaims his gentleness in ruling, and by means of the symbol of a yoke, invites his followers to obey his commandments, much as he does more explicitly in the gospel of John. In Matthew, the teaching of Jesus is likened to a "yoke," a symbol which stands for the discipline needed to achieve wisdom (Si 51:26) and which reenforces the association between Jesus' commands and the truth. Also in the gospel of Mark, Jesus holds out an invitation to his disciples to come with him and rest (6:31). One might think that the crowds who then followed Jesus were disturbing this rest, but they rather come and share in it. Here Mark subtly alludes to Psalm 23, in which the king, shepherd of his people, proclaims that the Lord is his own shepherd who gives him rest in green pastures, saving him from the darkness which is the threat of enemy powers and showing him the right paths by which he may govern the kingdom in justice. The king celebrates this intimate relationship with God in the tem-ple, where a festive banquet is spread before him. In Mark 6:30-44, these themes are echoed as Jesus looks with pity on the crowds who are like sheep without a shepherd. He teaches them at great length; we are to understand that his words are a source of life to them, parallel to the wise proclamation of 520 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 the ancient kings. The meal of bread and fish is distributed as the people are seated on the green grass. Here there is no temple, but the passage retains a liturgical atmosphere, for the meal clearly symbolizes the Eucharist. The peo-ple eat their fill and give symbolic expression to the life-giving property of this sacrament, given, as Jesus elsewhere says, so that the people may not grow weary along the way (Mk 8:3). This scene in Mark 6 can lead in turn back to the gospel of John, for it shows why the theme of the Good Shepherd (Jn 10) is apropos in a gospel concerned with the theme of life in its fullness: "I came that they might have life and have it to the full" (10:10). Food and Water The multiplication of the loaves in Mk'6 also illustrates the association between the word of God spoken by Jesus and food. They can be related inasmuch as they both sustain life. Such a connection can be found in the traditions about Elijah, who announces a drought that will last until he says otherwise (1 K 17:1). However, for the poor widow whom he visits, his word provides a supply of food that will continue through the drought. This story contains the same central theme as that expressed in the subsequent episode, when the prayer of Elijah causes the widow's son to come back to life, namely, the life-giving power of God's word spoken through his servant Elijah. As in Genesis 2-3, there is strong polemic here against the claims of the Canaanite religion to impart life through nature worship.'3 This opposition reaches its greatest intensity when the command given by Elijah spells death for the four hundred Canaanite prophets (1 K 18:40). A similar theology of God's word is probably contained in Exodus 16, where the manna is given in sufficient supply for all, provided the people follow exactly God's instructions for gathering it (vss. 4, 18).'4 The mention of the manna tasting like honey (vs. 31) probably alludes to the sweet taste of God's law proclaimed in Ps 19:11. In Dt 8:3, the link between God's word and the manna is made quite clearly: the Israelites' nourishment with manna was a sign that "not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of the Lord." Jesus' use of these words during his temptation in the desert (Mt 4:4) shows that his fasting is a symbolic dying, a depriving himself of one means of sus-taining life, so that he might be filled with another, God's word.'~ Such im-agery is also well established in several prophets. Amos likened the absence of God's word to a famine (Am 8:11-12) and Jeremiah spoke of "devouring" the words of God (Jn 15:16); Ezekiel elaborated on Jeremiah's imagery by an '~ See F. Eakin, "Yahwism and Baalism before the Exile," Journal of Biblical Literature 84 0965), pp. 407-414. " For additional material on the symbolic character of Ex 16, see C~ Carmichael, "Deuteronomic Laws, Wisdom, and Historical Traditions," Journal of Semitic Studies 12 (1967), pp. 198-206. '~ On fasting as "dying," see T. Gaster, Thespis: Ritual, Myth and Drama in the Ancient Near East (Anchor Books; Garden City: Doubleday, 1961), pp. 26-34. Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 52"1 allusion to Ps 19 in describing his eating the scroll of God's word and finding it sweet as honey (Ezk 3:3). In John's gospel, Jesus speaks of having food to eat of which his disciples do not know, namely, the doing of his Father's will (Jn 4:32-34). Later, after giving bread and fish to his disciples at the lake shore, he commands Peter to "feed my sheep" (Jn 21:17), a charge which in the context of John's gospel undoubtedly means allowing the sheep to hear the "voice" of the Good Shepherd 00:3-5, 16), much as they heard his teaching in Mark's gospel, when they ate bread and fish supplied by Jesus (Mk 6:34). Such passages establish the close bond between word and sacrament in Christian eucharistic theology, as most clearly expressed when the disciples on the road to Emmaus recog-nized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, but only after having their hearts prepared through Jesus' explanation of the Scriptures (Lk 24:31-32). Israel expressed its reflections on life also through the natural symbol of water. In the creation account of Genesis 2, the stream which waters all the surface of the earth provides the clay from which man is made (vss. 6-7) and a river in Eden is the source of fertility in the garden (vs. 10). This river should be understood as a further specification of the stream in vs. 6, for it divides into four branches (vs. 10), symbolizing the four directions of the earth and thus marking out Eden as the source of life for all the earth. Such symbolism had a concrete application to the Jerusalem temple, which was regarded as a representation of the garden of Eden and thus through poetic imagination was provided with "a stream whose runlets gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High" (Ps 46:5). Once again, as with the imagery of the eagle wings, the temple stands as a source of life for the people. The most dramatic elaboration of such symbolisn~ can be found in Ezekiel's vision of the stream which flowed from the temple (Ezk 47) and grew to a mighty river changing the Dead Sea into fresh water filled with fish. The trees along its banks, with their copious fruit and medicinal leaves are an adaptation of'the tree of life from which Adam and Eve were permitted to eat. This association between the temple and healing helps to understand why Israelite liturgy, as a source of life, implied forgiveness of sin in its very performance, a belief against which various prophets struggled when such healing was understood as occurring automatically (e,g., Am 5:21-25; I~ 66:3). Since sunlight and water were both perceived as natural symbols for life, there are several other ways in which water symbolism coincides with that of light, most notably in the role assigned to the king and also to the command-ments of God. In 2 S 23, the images of sun and water coalesce when it is proclaimed that the king "is like the morning light at sunrise on a cloudless morning, making the greensward sparkle after rain" (vs. 4). The state of "rest," a synonym for "life," is associated with water as the king thanks God for leading him "beside restful waters" (Ps 23:2). The state of war is a threat to this rest and so when the king faces enemies, he speaks of himself as af-flicted with a thirst which symbolizes his nearness to death: "My throat is 522 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 dried up like baked clay, my tongue cleaves to my jaws; to the dust of death you have brought me down" (Ps 22:16). The natural experience of thirst in battle (see Jg 5:15-19) allows the king to express his desire for victory as a long-ing for water: "As the hind longs for the running waters, so my soul longs for you, O God (Ps 42:2). Do me justice, O God, and fight my fight against a faithless people" (Ps 43: l ; Psalms 42 and 43 were originally a single psalm). ,6 When the victory comes, it can be symbolically expressed through the slaking of the king's thirst: "From the brook by the wayside he will drink; therefore will he lift up his head" (Ps 110:7). The life which he has absorbed, he then transmits to his kingdom through the just exercise of his power: "He shall be like rain coming down on the meadow, like showers watering the earth. Justice shall flower in his days." (Ps 72:6). A just rule is carried out within the framework of just laws, enacted in con-formity with God's will. Thus water symbolism can be readily applied to laws insofar as they are life-giving, particula~'ly so because water is life-giv.ing when it is transformed from a chaotic force into channeled streams and into rainfall that comes in the proper, well-ordered time. Thus in Genesis 1, life can begin upon the earth once the chaotic waters have been assigned their proper place (Gn 1:6-11). In similar fashion, several psalms contrast the tumultuous primeval waters with the life-giving streams and rains which result from the divine ordering of the seas (Pss 46:3-6; 65:8-14; 104:5-18). Thus the decrees of God, ordering the life of man, can be compared to life-giving water. When Moses changed the bitter waters into fresh because he followed the directions of God, his action could be joined to the notice that the Lord there gave the Israelites laws which would let them.experience his life-giving healing power (Ex 15:22-26). Later on, an episode in the area of Horeb, the place for receiv-ing commandments from God, seems to have been transformed by an editor into a scene at the Jerusalem temple (Ex 17:1-16). The water from the rock at Horeb symbolizes both the commands of God and the water associated with the mountain of the Lord in Jerusalem (see Ps 46:5). MoseS seated high on a rock with his arms outstretched and growing weary resembles the king in the psalms, enthroned on a high rock and stretching forth his arms in prayer as he grows weary against his enemies (Pss 61:3; 62:5; 143:6-7). Just as in these psalms the king places his hope in a faithful following of God's will, so the people receive their strength from faithfulness to God's commands, symbol-ized by the water from Horeb. Such theology is quite close to that of the prophet Isaiah, who combined in his own fashion the themes of water, rest, and trustful adherence to the com-mands of God. For Isaiah, the gently flowing waters of Shiloah, which sup-plied Jerusalem with water and perhaps also suggested to him the motif of the See note on Psalm 42-43 in the New American Bible {Paterson: St. Anthony Guild, 1970). Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 523 "stream flowing from the Temple," symbolized the quiet trust of faith which was a source of life for Israel; because the people rejected this gentle stream, the waters of the Euphrates River, that is the destructive power of Assyria, would engulf them with its chaotic force (8:6-8). Jerusalem was meant to be a place of rest for the weary, that is, a center of life for the people (28:12), but the king of Judah rejected faith and thus brought weariness (7:13). This rest could be achieved if only the king would cease seeking aid from foreign powers (30:2, 15, ] 6; 31 : l) and provide for just rule within his own kingdom,'7 giving a share of life to the poor and defenseless among his own people (1 : 17, 5:22-23; 10:1-4). Far from being an expression of inactivity, the theme of rest and quiet in Isaiah is a call to reform to a just distribution of wealth according to God's will, so that Jerusalem could again be a center of life, a city of rejoic-ing: "Justice will bring about peace; right will produce calm and security. My people.will live in peaceful country, in secure dwellings and quiet resting places. Look to Zion, the city of our festivals; let your eyes see Jerusalem as a quiet abode" (32:17-18; 33:20). The waters of life is a theme of special richness in the Gospel of John 18. '~ In the story of the wedding feast at Cana (Jn 2:1-12), the jars of water are pro-vided according to the rules for ceremonial washings and thus the water can aptly symbolize the Jewish law. The wine is a familiar symbol for messianic fulfillment ,(e.g., Ho 14:8) and here expresses the centrality of Jesus who replaces the Law as God's 'primary means of revelation. The episode of the Samaritan woman (Jn 4:1-42) employs a clearer allusion to the imagery of revelation in the symbol of "living water," that is, water which both flows and symbolizes life; here the source of this "living water" is Jesus rather than the biblical traditions symbolized by the well of Jacob. This "replacement" theme continues in John 7 and 8 in connection with the Feast of Booths. This ancient autumn harvest,festival, at which the Israelites joyfully thanked God for his blessings and prayed for a fruitful harvest in the months ahead, com-bined the symbols of sunlight and water, both naturally associated with the fertility of the fields. Probably Psalm 84, a pilgrimage song which calls God a '°'sun" (vs. 12) and sings of the "early rain" of autumn (vs. 7), was part of this festival. The temple was the scene of illumination and water libation during this feast, but now the new center of life is the person of Jesus, God's new tem-ple (Jn 2:21), as he proclaims during the festival that he is "the light of the world" (8:12) and the source from which living waters shall flow to give life to those who believe (7:37-38). These waters finally do flow from the body of Jesus on the cross, when the soldier pierces him with a lance (19:34-35). In ac- ~7 For the idea that "being still" in Isaiah refers to a gradual reform from within the nation, I am indebted to Rev. Henri Cazelles. ,8 For most of what follows on the theme of water in John, see R. Brown, The Gospel According to John (The Anchor Bible, 29 and 29a; Garden City: Doubleday, 1966 and 1970). 524 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 cord with John's theology th

Issue 39.6 of the Review for Religious, November 1980. ; The Fot~rth Level of Prayer Developmental Stages and the Novice Limits of Adaptability of the Exercises Volume :~9 Number 6 November 1980 REVIEW ~:OR Rrl.J~aOt~S (ISSN 0034-639X). published hi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Departmenl of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room a,28:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri, © 1980. By R~v~w FOk RFa.~¢aous. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. Missouri. Single copies: $2.(X). Subscription U.S.A.: $8.1XI a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year. $17.00 fi~r two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write R~v~w I;Ok R~-:~,~;~ot;s: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor November, 1980 Volume 39 Number 6 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manu~ripts and books for review should be sent to REw~:w ~on R~:~AG~OUS; 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 College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as repr.ints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. The Benedictine Call to Judgment James M. Desche~e, O.S.B. Brother James has written this article especially to celebrate the 1500 anniversary of the Benedic-tines. His last article, "Journey into Christ," appeared in the issue of July, 1980. He resides at Christ-of-the-Hills Monastery; P.O. Box 32849; San Antonio, Texas 78216. Make no mistake about the age we live in; already it !s high time for us to awake out of our sleep., the night is far on its course., day draws near. (Rm 13:11,12). Despite the Lord's command to comfort the afflicted, one cannot help but be struck by the frequency with which the Lordhimself afflicts the comfort-able. Despite our very human tendency to seek peace and security, one cannot easily forget (for the Lord will not permit it) that Christ came "not to send peace, but a sword" (Mt 10:34). When, like ancient Israel, we have come to prefer the security of enslaved lives, the Lord, ever perverse in his grace, calls us out of our comfortable slavery to wander in a desert of freedom, exiled from security and peace. ¯ Wandering.in that terrible place, we long with all our hearts to be back in the dreary mud pits of Egypt, preferring the dry but dependable crusts of slavery to those fierce, unsatisfied hungers we discover within us as we sojourn in the desert of fre~edom.and ~of judgment. Whatever the pain of crises in our lives, we must never forget that the crises themselves are divine gifts. The Greeks, who had a word for everything, gave us the word crisis. But they wisely knew (as we often do not) that the word, while it involved pain, really meant a time of challenge and judgment, an opportunity to-measure and evaluate and change. For the Christian, crises are moments in which God confronts us with truths we had preferred not to see, with realities we have chosen to ignore, with decisions we have refused to make. For the Christian, a crisis is a 801 802 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 moment--albeit painful--of deepest grace. For a Christian who has become settled in a life of slavery to routine and superficial existence, a moment of crisis is a moment of salvation and an opportunity to regain touch with th~ deep roots of being, to be enlivened and energized by a return to life and grace. Just as there are moments of crisis ! of j udgment-- in each human life, so are there moments of crisis in each human generation and in each human society. This is the human condition: to stand--as an individual and as a race--at eve.ry moment in need of judgment and of conversion, in need of redemption and of new life. It is his recognition of this condition--and of Christ's lordship over all our crises--that prompts Saint Paul to call us to judgment: "Make no mistake about the age we live in; already it is high time for us to awake out of sleep." Paul's word, translated here by "high time," is the Greek kairos, with its sense of urgency, of.opportunity, of occasion. The word for Paul usually suggests a critical time (a time of judgment), a God-filled moment of salvation, an end and a beginning. Fifteen hundred years ago was born a man whose wisdom in crisis was to have an incalculable influence on the history and life of our. western world. Benedict, born around the year 480 in the small Umbrian town of Nursia in the Apennines, found himself thrust into a world in crisis. The old Roman Empire and its social fabric were f~lling into ruin around this young man. Rome itself narrowly escaped attack by Attila the Hun in~452 only to be sacked a few years later by the Vandals. Nor was the Church im-mune from crisis. In 451, churchmen struggling over the doctrinal issue of the two natures in Christ met in council at Chalcedon. The results were a victory for dogma but a defeat for Christian unity, giving rise to the two schisms of the NestOrians and the Monophysites, and planting the seeds of the great disunity between east and west that were to bloom prodigiously in the later Middle Ages. In brief, it was an age not unlike our own. Into the crisis of his age entered this man Benedict who wisely allowed the larger crises of his time to become one with his own personal moment of crisis, of judgment and of salvation. In the person of Benedict, in fact, a judgment is passed upon the age itself: "Even while still living in the world, free to enjoy all it had to offer, he saw how empty it was and turned from it without regret" (St. Gregory the Great: Dialogues, H, Preface). It is the genius of Saint Benedict, and the special mark of his,holiness, that this judgment, while never compromising itself, always avoids the taint of the puritan harshness we of later generations have come to expect in those who renounce the world. Instead, as we discover in the Prologue to his Rule, Benedict's judgment is filled with goodness and grace, with charis as the ancients knew it, sounding clear notes of kindliness; graciousness and mercy. Benedict calls his advice that of a "loving father" and finds only joy in the~call to judgment: "What can be sweeter to us, dear brothers, than this voice of the Lord inviting us? Behold, in his loving kindness the Lord shows us the way of The Benedictine Call to Judgment / 803 life" (Rule, Prologue). As the monk confronts the crisis of his own life, any hardness results from the very hardness and smallness of his own heart. But in crisis, the Lord stands ready to give the monk a neff heart and with this growth comes an ineffable joy: "For as we advance in the religious life and in faith, our hearts expand, and we run the way of God's commandments with unspeakable sweetness of love" (Rule, Prologue). In its essence, the monastic or religious life as Benedict understands it is a call to judgment, a call to be ever open to the voice of the Lord, a vocation to enter into each and every moment of crisis with the faith tha, t God is present in that moment to recreate and renew our hearts and our lives. The great enemy to this vocation is hardening the heart: "Today if you hear his voice, harden not your hearts." And Benedict's remedy for this is sounded in the opening of his Rule: "Listen, my son, to your master's precepts, and incline the ear of'your heart." For Benedict this is no poetic fancy. To listen, to incline the ear of the heart, is exactly what is meant by obedience. "By the labor of obedience you may return to him from whom you had departed by the sloth of disobedience" (Rule, Prologue). Obedience, to the Latin ear ofSaint Benedict, always carried a message we easily miss in the English word. Obedience (from ob +audire) has to do with listening, with hearing, with attending to. It involves an openness and a sensitivity to the voice and,the, will of the Lord speaking to each person in each situation. To obey is tobe wholly open and submissive to the Lord in crisis; it is to be ever willing to enter into crisis because that is .where the Lord will be found at that moment. It is a willingness to allow the Lord tobe our judge, to have his way with us. It isa willingness to let one's,heart be broken, if that is the Lord's will. It is to. hold back no part of one's life,ands'being from the Lord of all life and being. To obey is to be wholly the Lord's creature, Benedict clearly indicates that it is in obedience that the monk finds a deep stability when he quotes from the Gospel the words: "Whoever listens to these w~ords of mine and acts upon them, I will liken him to a wise man who has built his house on rock. The floods came, the winds blew and beat against that house, and it did not fall, because it was founded on rock" (Rule, Prologue). When we are in crisis, security and stability appear to lie in avoiding the critical issue. When .the Lord calls.us out of slavery into the desert, slavery doesn't look so bad. Only the0deepest faith and the deepest trust in the Father's love can teach us to face the crisis, to enter into judgment, to listen to and obey the voice that calls us into seeming desert and chaos and.ruin. For Benedict this faith and trust are reflected in the words: "In his loving kindness the Lord shows us the way of life." What appears to be a way of death is really the way of life. One of the.practical ways Benedict provides to his monks for learning this deep trust in the Father's unfailing love is the office of the abbot; the abba who incarnates among the monks the Father himself. It is by his obedience to the abbot that the monk learns obedience to the Father. Indeed, it isin his obe- 804 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 dience to the abbot that the monk is obedient to the Father. Yet Benedict is careful to remind the monk that obedience-- in its radical sense of openness to crisis and the will of God expressed in concrete situations--is not limited to the relationship between a monk and his abbot. The monk is to recall that he must be obedient to all his brothers. "Not only is the boon of obedience to be shown by all to the Abbot, but the brothers are also to obey one another, knowing that by the road of obedience they are going to God" (Rule, Chapter 71). The call to crisis involves every member of the community. No one is to be denied our obedience--our listening, our sensitivity, our responsiveness. Every crisis between Christians, whether they be monks or not, is a God-filled kairos, a time of salvation. In light of the foregoing, it may be objected by some that this appears to be a diminution of the force of the vow of obedience. I have avoided all the juridical and legal aspects of the vow. Yet I have done this purposely, and for two reasons. First, the vision I find in Benedict of obedience is deeper, stronger and more demanding than. any purely juridical concept. Indeed, it is possible (perhaps even common) to find juridically conceived obedience an effective means of escaping real crisis, real judgment and encounter between the monk and the Lord. Secondly, a purely juridical view limits our considera-tion to those who are juridically bound by a vow. Yet Benedict's view of obe-dience is no less applicable to every Christian man and woman than to monks. All are called to crisis, to judgment. No Christian is exempt from this demand nor from the demand of obedience to each of his fellow Christians. Nor is any Christian exempt from the demand Benedict makes by the vow of conversatio morum, usually translated as "conversion of manners" or "reformation of life." For in its most profound sense, this vow is essentially a radical call to crisis, to judgment. It requires that at every moment we respond to the voice of the Lord calling us to newness of life. Today's response may have to be relinquished to tomorrow's response. Our hearts must be continu-ally open to each new judgme.nt and call from the Lord. We are not to settle down, not to set camp in the desert, but to be continually on the move. There is no standing still in the service of the Lord. Endless conversion, perpetual metanoia, are the marks of a truly living Christian. To guarantee that the monk will not be tempted to escape this demand of endless reformation and endless conforming to the living will of God as revealed in crisis and discovered by obedience, Benedict adds the third vow of stability. By this the monk renounces his right to escape God's demands in the present moment and circumstances by moving into other circumstances. Run-ning away is not permitted the monk and so there is nothing for him to do but to submit to the divine crisis and know it is God's will that he submit. From the day of his profession, the monk is assured by God's promise that it is here, among these particular persons,, that God will confront him in crisis. To flee from these brothers, then, is to flee from God and his call. (I do not wish here to enter into the problematical issues of canonical transfer of stability or of The Benedictine Call to Judgment / 805 departure from the monastic life, though these deserve fuller treatment in light of what has been said here.) One of the last points to consider in Benedict's vision of the Christian life authentically lived is the place of humility. A close examination of his chapters on hi~mility reveals that humility has a great deal to do with truthfulness. It has to do with facing the truth about ones.elf. It has to do with seeing oneself for what one is. It is a virtue of utter and radical realism. Above all, its end is tosee oneself as God sees one. It involves looking at fearful truths intently and steadily, refusing to turn away from them, until by grace and work, all fear is transformed into love and "the monk will presently come to that perfect love of God which casts out fear" (Rule, Chapter 7). Humility is thus related to crisis; it helps us to face crisis, to endure judg-ment, to bear the truth. It also enables the monk to be of assistance to his brothers in their need to face crisis. The monk serves his brother by being perfectly truthful, by obscuring nothing of his own weakness or sin and nothing of his brother's weakness and sin. Humble monks do not support one another in self-deception. Equally importantly, the monk is alway.s ready, in humility, to take from the moment of crisis the truth of his own goodness and to affirm the same in his brothers:.Humility is the readiness to admit the truth as it is revealed at every moment. This is particularly seen in the requirement that the monk hold back nothing about himself from his spiritual father. Every selfish thought, every petty jealousy, every twinge of hatred--all must be laid without hesitation before the spiritual father. In this way, spiritual direction for the monk becomes in the truest sense a crisis and a moment of salvation. Nothing of Benedict's vision is without relevance to the life and growth of every Christian. In this fifteen-hundredth year of Saint Benedict's gift to Christianity, it must be seen that his gift is a gift to all men and women who seek the Lord. The gift of his monks is to be bearers of crisis. The monk must live in such a way that the world may never forget that Christ is Lord. The monk must live in such a way that the values of the world, insofar as they are opposed to the values of Christ, are absurd and empty. Benedict's sons and daughters must see that their lives bring a continual judgment on the lives of all men and women; that their lives are lived in a way that proclaims the power of truthfulness, of humility, of obedience. The monk must live his life in such a way that it would make no sense if there" were not a loving Father guiding and ruling all things. It is this "senselessness" that can bring the world into crisis, into facing the truth of its own empty values, its own abandonment of God, This is the Benedictine crisis, this call to judge the world not by condemn-ing or rejecting it, and certainly not by fleeing it; but by living every moment in such a way that the world must face the question of God's rule and the reality of his kingdom. Our criticism must lie, like Benedict's, not in speaking against the world (though this too has its place), but by the positive and grace-filled 806 / Review for Religious~ Volume 39, 1980/6 living of our lives in truth, in love, in brotherhood, in simplicity, in peace: In our time, perhaps more than ever, this is the task to which Benedict's monks and nuns are called, For all of us it is a time of crisis, of asking whether weare really doing what Saint Benedict interided. To answer this question, we do not 'need to examine our effectiveness. For our effectiveness lies entirely in our observance of the Rule and spirit of Saint Benedict. It is by being witnesses to God's kingdom that we shall have our effect, and this witness lies in our fidelity to the principles we have briefly looked at~here: obedience, continual reformation, stability, humility. For fifteen hundred years the presence in the world of Benedictine monks has been a sign and a challenge, a judgment and a question .--a crisis. So long as~we do not ourselves abandon the elements of our life which keep us ever open and sensitive to the workings of the Spirit, so long as we have the faith and the courage to examine ourselves for fidelity to the authentic Benedictine tradition and to step into the future with faith and trust and submissive-ness- so long as these things are present,,the Benedictine family and mission will be .needed, will be in crisis, will be genuinely alive, ~ We attest to a frightened world that the'sword of Christ.is but a prelude to the peace of Christ, that death through olSedience leads to the fullest life, and that the ruins of our lives in the crises we meet are the foundations of Resur-rection. The world's fear must be cast out by the perfection of our love.For it is love that is the greatest judgment and crisis in all of human history. Benedict, in his school of the Lord's service, shows us the way to the crisis of love. The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery David J. Hassel, .S.J. Father:Hassel is Associate Professor of Philosophy at Loyol~i University in Chicago. His last arti-cle, "'Prayer of Personal Reminiscence: Sharing Oners Memories with Christ," was printed in the issue of March, 1977 and is still available in reprint form. He currently resides at 6525 North Sheridan Road; Chicago, IL 60626. Ironically, the terms most frequently used to describe our present-day spirituality can cause us the most c6nfusion: peace, consolation and desola-tion, dryness in prayer, contemplation in action, discernment. Since these terms.point to.mySterious processes within our experience, even a book-length analysis of them would be hardly adequate. But perhaps an article can achieve some clarity if it attempts simply to locate the happenings described by these terms~ In other words, if we were to ~st~rvey the various level~ of human awareness--e~en with some crudity--we might better understand the events occurring at these levels.' But before doing tlais survey, could we first describe the problems to be touched hire? For ~xample, people can feel disturbed about the peace they experience in their decisions and their prayer. Is this peace simply the euphoria of having finally made a decision after hours or days of sweaty deliberations? Is peace in prayer mainly exuberant physical ~nd mental health? The f6~ty'- year old priest has decided that God no longer wants him to practice° his priesthood but now wishes him to marry the woman who has helped him so ' I am deeply indebted to the retreatants whose honesty and trust have furr~ished me with the data out of which this article rises, i am particularly indebted to the following persons who have attempted to save me the usual number of unhealthy exaggerations inevitable in such an article as this: Mary Ann Hoope, B.V.M., Robert Harvanek, S.J., Paul Clifford, S.J., John Schuett, S.J., Richard Smith, S.J., Robert Murphy, S.J, :Mary Jane Linn, C.S.J., Frank Houdek, S.J., Jules Toner, S.J., Mrs. Mary Ellen Hayes. 807 808 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 much in his ministry and in his discovery of manhood. He feels peace in this decision; but is this "peade" simply the relief from heavy parish obligations and the glad anticipation of married life? Will "peace" remain when his new life begins to place renewed obligations on his shoulders? Again, a person can experience what seems to be a split in his personality. He finds himself half-miserable, half-happy. He asks himself: "How can I, at one and the same time, experience the depressing defeat of losing my job and yet, in my depths, feel confident? Are there two of me? Is this the play of con-solation and desolation within my life? Or are the pressures of life splitting my consciousness into two?" A third problem is Christ's command: "Pray always." Such a request seems psychologically impossible when a mother is raising four children between the ages of two years and twelves years or when an engineer is testing a heavily traveled city bridge for stress-breaks and wondering what will hap-pen in the business community and-at city hall if he condemns the bridge, or when the advertising executive is sizing up a prospective customer, estimating the product to be advertised, and puzzling over the morality of a slick sales-pitch which has just come to mind. But if Christ is asking the psychologically impossible, is he not providing the conditions for skepticism about his whole message? A fourth problem arises when we focus upon discernment process the three puzzling cases just mentioned. What does it mean to discern God's will in a decision, if I am unsure about peac~, consolation-desolati0n, and ongoing prayer in my life? Such discernment is often termed the concrete call of Christ to the individual Christian or to his community. But does God call only through external circumstances and other people, or does he not also" make his desires known within the experience of the individual Christian? Does such an interior experience occur in the imagination or in the mind or in the heart of the person? Or in all three at the same time? Or somewhere else? Some clarity, it is contended here, can be attained in these problems if one distinguishes four levels of awareness in the praying Christian: the superficial, physical, psychic, and mysterious. Could we, therefore, describe these levels then indicate a way of uncovering the fourth level, next show the type of partial solution which the appreciation of this fourth level offers to our prob-lems, subsequently explain how the fourth level would seem to affect the upper thre~ levels of awareness, and finally offer some cautions about the use of this fourth-level explanation? These five steps would be the strategy of this presentation. Four Levels of Awareness2 First Level: the Sensuous-Superficial. This first level is the skin-surface of experience: sensuous awareness. It is a tissue of minor irritations and pleasures. For example, I am displeased by the cold draft playing on my neck during the auditorium talk, or by the raspy.voice of the woman describing her The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery / 809 Florida vacation or by the first gnawings of hunger at 4:30 p.m., or by the slight rash on the back of my hand. At this same level, I experience satisfac-tion at a favorite meal of ham and sweet potatoes, at the sweet smell of spring grass just cut, at the relaxation of a hardy laugh, at the caressing of the family cat. Such minor irritations and pleasures ordinarily do not demand much at-tention and are taken for granted as the normal flow of life. Though I am often barely conscious of them, they do give life its continuous texture. Second Level: the Physical-Vital. Underneath the first level of awareness, there are other happenings which demand attention because they last longer and are more intense tfian events of the first level. Here are the pains and joys which go deeper than minor ir.ritations and pleasantries~ Anyone who has experienced the steady throb of neuralgia or the constant harassment of ulcer pains or the brain-deadening effect of insomnia will vouch for the e~xistence of this second level of awareness. Here are also pleasurable joys which exceed the simple pleasures described in the first level. There is, for example, the exuber-ance of glowing health, the feeling that "all the world is beautiful and owned by me'~-experiences which the carbonated-drink advertisements exploit. At this level the fifth symphony of Beethoven can stir a person to his depths with its elegant majesty, can make him feel noble beyond his dreams. Or this level contains the sustained sat!sfaction of slowly mastering one's tennis or golf. Here, too, the ecstasy of sexual pleasure .occurs with its deep drum-beat of powerful delight. The very power of the pains and pleasures of this second level demand our attention and make us aware of how superficial the first- . level irritations and pleasures are. Yet these second-level happenings do com-penetrate and influence the first-level, sensuous awareness. One's enjoyment of a favorite dinner is enhanced by the feel of good health or diminished by in-somnia. Third Level: the Psychological-Psychic. Although the second level of awareness contains happenings of insistent strength, still the third level of awareness is capable of riveting a person~.s attention and so possessing him or her that, for a time, he or she is seemingly unaware of second- or first-level happenings. The deep sorrows and the pure joys of this level totally permeate a person's being and consciousness. For example, the young woman, working at her first secretarial job, may be hypnotized by fear of failure so that her voice creaks, her fingers clog the typewriter keyboard, her memory fails and she feels no hunger throughout the first day of work. The paranoid person 2 In their article "Phenomenology, Psychiatry, and Ignatian Discernment," (The Way, Supple-ment #6, May, 1968, 27-34) Felix Letemendia and George Crofts'peak of four levels of experience: the sensorial, the vital, the psychic and the spiritual, which somewhat resemble the levels described here. They have borrowed their descriptions from Max Scheler, the philosopher, and from Kurt Schneider, the psychiatrist. Of course, there are many levels of experience, if one wishes to be very specific. But perhaps this more simplifiedlsketch of four levels better serves our present purpose. 810 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 may be so concentrating on the "derogatory actions" of others that he walks through a glass door without knowing that he is bleeding from cuts. At this third level a woman may experience haunting doubts about her ability to love another adeq~uately and thus may begin to feel like a dull, unattractive child u~na.ble to evoke love from another. A father's mental pain at watching his daughter waste away in unrelievable cancer is matched on this level only by the suffering of a wife undergoing systematic and.continuous belittlement from her husband while the children look on bewildered. But at this third level, the depth of the pure joys~equal such sorrows. Here an6ther mother experiences the warm security of being loved by an admired husband and of being respected by admiring children: Here, too, is where the older brother ~njoys the four-touchdown afterri0on of his younger brother whom h~had 6oached on all the moves of a tigl~t end during four years. It is at this third lev61 that the novelist reads over the'laudatory reviews of his book and experiences lasting gratitude to the elderly journalism teacher who had taught him his craft. Here, too, the woman social worker sits late at her desk, savoring the bone-tiredness but deep satisfaction of a day well spent in patiently binding together fragmenting families, persons, and situations. This third level, then; encompasses the top two levels'and, in so doing, can render them almost routine. For the top two-levels, distracting as they may be to this thir~l level of awareness, are integrated into a fuller meaning at the°third level. The tired social worker does feel the pangs of hunger at the ~irs~t level, and at the second level does anticipate the pleasure of relaxing at home with her husband over a leisurely dinner, but all this is occurring in the wider and deeper context 'of fulfillment in her work at the third level of awareness. Fourth Level: the Underground River of God. ~ The fourth level is like a great underground river which, underlying the upper three levels, quietly nourishes them, sustains them in their storms and blisses, acts as the continuity (the stay-in~ power) underneath~their sometimes rapid fluctuations of irritation-pleasantry, pain-pleasure, sorrow-joy. Compared to theupper three levels, this fourth level is a quiet beneath turbulance, a constancy amid flux, a seem-in~ Passivity under great activity. Consequently, the fourth level is never explicitly conscious in itself (as are the top three levels) but only by way of cont~ast with the top levels. It is not simply experiential, but implicitly experiential,' as we note in the following two cases. Discovery of the Fourth LevEl A remarkable case-history, whose details rife changed to disguise the ~ Being ignorant of C. G. Jung, the author would not wish the combined images of underground river and of ever deeper experiential levels to be interpreted as intentionally Jungian. ' John F.~ Dedek in his Experimental Knowledge of the Indwelling Trinity: an Historica/Study of the Doctrine of St. Thomas (St. Mary of the Lake Seminary Mundelein, Illinois, 1958, pp. 125r142) calls attention to Aquinas' doctrine that.the Christian's knowledge of the Trintiy is quasi The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery / 811 person, illustrates how this fourth level can be discovered. A woman novice in a religious order located onthe west coast came to a midwest Jesuit University to begin her collegiate studies. Her novice mistress had taken a dislil(e to her, told her that her lack of intelligence would keep her from ever being a useful member of the congregation, succeeded in turning the other novices against her and yet had capriciously admitted her into vows. When ! met this woman, her skin was blotched with anxiety, the doctor had diagnosed stomach ulcers, she herself felt isolated and :depressed~ But she also was convinced that, despite all the sufferings, God wanted her to be a nun. As three years went by, she discovered that she was a straight "A" student, that she had special talents for political science, that she was being accepted by her fellow students and by the nuns with whom she lived, that she could pray. In other words, she found that she had a future, that deep happiness could occur in religious life. As these discoveries slowly permeated her life, the skin-blotches .disap-peared, the ulcers became healed, the sense of alienation was replaced with the warm feeling of being accepted by her religious community. The steady accomplishment felt at the top three levels of her experience now allowed her to experience by contrast a constant uneasiness or lack of peace at her deepest level, the fourth level. During the period of her novitiate experience, she could not be clearly aware of the uneasiness at the fourth level, because it was clouded by all the disturbances at the upper three levels. Only the growing brightness at the top three levels of-her experience during her collegiate days enabled her to appreciate the bl~i9k uneasiness at the deepest level of her being. After a year or so of disc_e~;nment at-this fourth level, she gradually came to acknowledge that the Lord was asking her to leave the religious community and was calling her to another way .of life. She resisted this leave-taking because she had found so much pleasure, joy, fulfillment in her religious com-munity and in her study-work. Finally she accepted God's will and, leaving the congregation, secured a job in Washington as research assistant to a member of Congress who bullied every member of his staff consistently and impartial-ly. The former novice's skin again took on the anxiety blotches, again she was consulting a doctor about stomach pains, again :she felt herself sinking into a dark and angry depression. But to her surprise, at. t.he fourth level of awareness now opened to her by her previous and present experience, she found a constant serenity never before experienced, The Lord was apparently experimentalis, i.e., "knowledge that is joined to charity" (p. 146). But he is unable to determine whether for Aquinas "this knowledge is merely discursive cognition based on signs or rather some kind of immediate or supra-discursive perception of the divine persons." Such knowledge is cer-tainly at the deepest l~vel of man's experience and, according to.the above analysis, is inferential, that is, the person becomes aware by contrasting the top three levels with the fourth level. The cen-tral texts noted in Aquinas by Fr, Dedek are in I Sent., D. 14, q. 2a., and 3; D. 15, Expositio Secundae Patris Textus. Also Sum. Theol. I, q. 43, a.5, ad 2. 812 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 approving her new way of life. At a great price and with subtle indirectness she had discovered the fourth level of awareness where the Lord calls to her and speaks in her discernment. Among other factors for diagnosing God's will for her, the crucial factor was the continuous uneasiness or the steady Peace at this fourth level. A second quick example illustrates these same points in a less extra-ordinary way. One day in a community corridor I met a fellow Jesuit who had just returned from home. He said to me, "You know my younger sister just died, I discovered two weeks ago that my doctoral thesis of a year's slaving has already been written by a South American, I'm wondering whether I can handle the theology courses scheduled for next year, and I haven't slept more than four hours a night during the last two weeks. But do you know? I must be crazy. Down deep I'm at peace, God loves me and will help me work out these things, I worry at one level of me; but at a deeper level I feel at peace." Could it be that this man is discovering with new clafity 'and enjoying with fuller appreciation the fourth level within his experience--precisely because of the striking contrast between the top three levels of suffering-sorrow and this fourth level of serenity-security? But what is this fourth level so poetically described as the underground river of God within us? First of all, its peace ap-pears to be a sense of God's approval, almost a companioning of the person by God, On the other hand, its uneasiness seems to express God's disapproval which produces an emptiness and loneliness. Secbndly the experience of peace or uneasiness is implicit to the top three levels; that is, it is recognizable by contrast with these levels yet is hidden under and within them. Thirdly, because of its depth and implicitness, this fourth level is difficult to describe directly. Instead, one offers experiential case-histories with the hope that the latter can point within the hearer'sexperience to his or her fourth level. For this reason, too, metaphor ("underlying river of God," "the ocean floor of life-experience" and "the background music of our activity at the top three levels") is employed rather than neat definitions composed of essential char, acteristics or criteria. Fourthly, the peace of the fourth level is marked by a passive alertness to.the top three levels of activity, an intent listening at the fourth level, a sense of not being along, a wi!lingness simply to be and to let be, an expectant openness to all future events. Yet at the same time, this peace permeates, patiently strengthens and lends finer quality to all the activities at the top three levels? What Is Happening at the Fourth Level? Peace. One event of vital importance seems to be happening at the fourth level: peace, a perduring serenity even amid storms at the top three levels. ~ Prayer experience at the fourth level bears a number of resemblances to what Karl Rahner describes as transcendental experience in his Foundations of Christian Faith (Seabury, New York, 1978), pp. 20, 21, 54, 58. The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery / 813~ Once the four levels are distinguished, it becomes clear that the word peace can refer to at least four different states in a person's awareness. At the first level, peace would mean enjoyment of life's little pleasures without its normal irritations. Confer television's beer and cosmetic advertisements for further clarification of this bodily peace. At the second level, peace could well mean a combination of good health, unworried mind and settled emotions. The fisherman, safe from the office telephones and watching the sun rise over water dimpled by surface-fee~ding trout, may well be the symbol of tl~is peace of mind. At the third level, peace may be euphoria, the neatly balanced inner life of felt achievement, of skilled competence, of fully satisfying family life, of pleasant prospect. For examples, look at the All-American father or mother in the Geritol or insurance-annuity advertisements; or, .better, look to the disciplined people who are willing to suffer much for the good of others. This could be called peace of heart. As we have mentioned, the top three level~ of peace, when disturbed, can reveal by contrast the fourth level of peace. Evidently, when one is recollecting himself or sinking into himself to discover his center of being so that he can pray better, he is actually dropping down through the three upper levels of awareness so that he can reach the fourth level where life flows most richly, quietly, serenely. He will note how the peace of this fourth level tends to render peaceful the upper three levels and he will understand better the restlessness of those who appear to have everything but lack peace of being or person. So, h'~ will discover that fourth-level peace is not just the concern of the wise, the religiously inclined~ the fortuna~tely educated; it is the goal and hope of every living person. Indeed, this is precisely what the Taoist, the Buddh.ist, and the transcendental meditator seeks. Yet not all seem to recognize the fourth level cli~arly for what it is: the felt presence of God. And quite a few seem unwilling to pay the price of such .recognition. For the price i~ double: (1) a sometimes painful discerning of ~what factors are operating within the fourth level and (2) for the Christian, the consequent willingness to accept the call of Christ (n6w heard more clearly,) and to respond to it more generously. Let us attempt some exploration of thesetwo points. Discernment. A spate of articles and floods of conversation about discern-ment make it one of the "in" terms. As luck would have'it, the mystery of discernment is not lessened by all this attention. Nor will this article do anything more than try to show where discernment takes place~ To put it starkly, discernment occurs radically at the fourth level.6 What 6 In using the term radical discernment to point to God's approving (peace) or disapproving (uneasiness) movemeni within the fourth level, I do not intend to discount the other convergent factors which go into the full discernment process, e.g., the weighing of reasons pro and con, obe-dience to lawful authority, spiritual direction, the testing of the decision in the actual living of it, use of Scripture, the calibrating of patterns of past behavior and accomplishments (the direction 814/Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 this:statement means become clearer only after one defines the events (or states) of desolation, consolation, depression, and elation. For it would seem that these four states occur only at the upper three levels. In other words, although desolation and consolation are used to read the spirits influencing a person to good or to evil, and although they may well appear to intrude upon the fourth level, still they are quite distinct from a perons's peace or lack of peace at this lowest level. Nor do depression and elation enter the fourth level of man's awareness even though they can obscure the peace or uneasiness of this level. Consolation-Desolation, Elation-Depression. It is necessary to define these four terms experientially in order to understand and to test in one's own awareness the truth of the above statements. First of all, though desolation can cause depression and intermingle with the latter almost inextricably, still desolation is not the psych.ological state of depression. For desolation is induced by the evil spirit, not by the psychological dy~.namisms causing depres-sion such as extreme fatigue, poor self-image, seemihgly depreciatory actions by admired people, neurotic or psychotic impulses, and so on. In addition, desolation has spiritual effects, i.e., those based on faith experience. Thus the person undergoing desolation feels that God igat a cold distance or does not exist at all. This person finds himself convinced that he has no future b~cause he can do no good for. anyone, least of all for the kingdom of Godl He feels totally unloving and unlovable for God and his people. On the other hand, depression is not concerned with faith-o.bjects such as these, but is involved with natural goals and hopes which, however, can be easily entwined with faith objects, e.g., when th~ nun-teacher estimateg that her attempt to write a biology book is being thwarted (depression) by her own lack of competence or (paranoia) by the devious enyy-tactics bf the department chairman so that as a result she cannot Contribute to God's glory and his kingdom. To put all this succinctly, depression paralyzes or weakens the human as human; while desolation freezes or enerx~ates the Christian as Christian. Thus it almost goes without saying that consolation is not elation since of one's life), and so on. But I am saying that in the midst of complex decisions, peace or uneasiness at the fourth lex;el is the predominant factor to be considered. For often enough the reasons pro and con cancel each other out; authority often gives such broad directives that numerous alternatives are left open; spiritual direction can only help the directee discover for himself or herself the peace or uneasiness; testing of the decision in practice can be somewhat ambivalent; use of scriptural prayer is itself tested in terms of consolation and desolation which, in turn, are discerned in terms of peace or uneasiness; patterns of past behavior do not fully account for new demands of life, new turns on the road of life. For more on discernment, confer Karl Rahner's The Dynamic Element in the Church, (Herder and Herder, New York, 1964) Part 111: "'The Logic of Concrete Individual Knowledge in Ignatius Loyola." Thomas M. Gan. non and George W. Traub's The Desert and the City (Macmillan, Toronto, 1969) Chapter VIII: "The Logic of Christian Discernment" says much clearly in short compass. The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery / 815 strengthening consolation ~(as distinct from Satan's eventually debilitating elation) is caused by God, not by such psychological dynamisms as the sense of worked achievement, the feel of competence in skilled activity, the reassurance of someone's deep affection, the hope of career-success, the discovery of one's deepest self. Fo~ consolation, unlike the elation which it can cause and enter, is concerned with faith-effects. That is, God consoles me with the inner faith-vision that he pervades the whole world, with the hope that I can do much for him and his people, with the certainty that I amcapable of deep devotion to the triune God and his people, Briefly, consolation is the state of feeling cl.ose to self, God, and others; just as desolation is the state of feeling isolated from God,. others, and even one s self, Consolation ~s a deep sense of the commu'nion'~of saints because of the felt presence of faith, hope, and charity; while desolation is experience of the utter loneliness of hell. Only God can cause consolatio.n; just as Satan is the sole cause of desolation, a deliberate attack on the three God-given virtues of faith, hope and charity. And both pheno~aeha occuronly at the top three levels of a person's experience- .Dryness in Prayer. Obviously, when consolation and desolation are swinging back and .forth (along with elation and depression) in one's experience, one feels no "dryness in prayer." For this dryness is the state of normalcy, the middle balancing state between the swings of consolation and desolation, of elation and desolation. Indeed, it is the state of~everyday living. Thus, dryness in prayer is not necessarily a sign of God's displeasure. For one cannot undergo the alternations of desolation-consolation or of depression-elation over.long periods of time without becoming exhausted'physically as well as spiritually. There must be periods of so-cailed~dryness if only so that the con-solations and desolations may be felt with refreshed sensitivity. It should be noted here that there is a dryness induced by ungrateful or disloyal actions, by petty selfishness, by clever screening out of spiritual insights which might disturb Complacency. This is when God declines to speak to Us with Consolation lest he seem.to approve our.state, and when Satan does not want to disturb our foolish self-satisfa'ction with desolation. But this dryness of complacency is not the normal dryhess in prayer even though both types of dryness occur within the same top three levels and can intermingle or at least succeed each other This intermingling makes it necessary to enter the fourth level of e~xperi-ence to explain~what normal dryness in prayer is. For underlying this dryness of the top three levels, can be a perduring sense of being right with God, of not being alone, and even of companioning God--despite all one's mistakes, shortcomings, and sin~fulness. This fourth-level, implicit sense of God is itself a prayer of quiet calmness which gives endurance, balance, and centering to all our spiritual living.~ This prayer of trusting expectancy would seem to be the somewhat experiential divine presence of which Aquinas speaks. Here the 816 ./ReviewforReligious, Volume 39, 1980/6 person is, in the words of Hans Urs von Balthasar, "a sustained utterance of prayer.''8 For this reason, such prayer can go on underneath one's fatigue, distractions, deadness of feeling, fitful sexual urges, tightening tensions, twitches and quirks. The quiet, hidden (not explicitly conscious) presence of God is supporting all the events at the tbp three levels of experience as one studies educational theory, works crossword puzzles, sells toothpaste, kisses children goodnight, and argues with one's spouse; This is why the :fourth level of experience can be described as a great underground river which quiets, stabilizes, nourishes, and guides the praying person. It is that which enable us literally to pray always. For, to change the figure, peace of the fourth level is like the quiet background music to all our endeavors on 'the upper levels. Again, this peace is the sense of carrying within oneself the Center of the World and of having nothing to fear (See Rm 8:35-39; I Co 3:21-23). Seeming Dereliction. For these reasons, even a partial obscuring of the fourth level can be a confusing, even an initially frightening, experience. When one'~ sense of the indwelling presence of God seems clouded in some way within the fourth level itself and not merely by desolation or depression at th~ top three levels, one experiences a certain dereliction. One.feels cut adrift, terribly alone, like a solitary canoeist drifting on a great body of night water. For the fourth level contains the center of one's universe, the hope of one's total future, the sourse of one's strength to love when not loved back. Of course, the fourth level of experience is never completely obscured; God is never far away. In fact, our very vulnerability and helplessness prob-ably make us, like the waif, even more appealing to him. Yet because this feel-ing of atheism at the fourth level is often accompanied by a convergence of outside calamities affecting the top three levels (confer the example of the Jesuit mentioned earlier), the suffering is acute. In fact, the sufferer needs the reassurance of spiritual direction as much as the storm-engulfed navigator needs clear sighting on the North Star. Still, in this seemingly total absence of consolation, to say nothing of elation, there perdures the subtle peace of God's presence never doubted even though ba~ely felt. Indeed, after the tem-porary dereliction, one feels more sensitive to peace', more alert to G.od's movements within the fourth l~vel.9 ' A wise and experie~ntial description of prayer amid dryness is Leonard Boase's Prayer of Faith (B. Herder, St. Louis, 1962), especially Chapters IV and V. (Paperback reissue: Our Sunday Visitor Press, Noll Piazza, Huntington, Indiana, 1976, a somewhat rearranged edition). ~ Hans Urs yon Balthasar, Prayer(Paulist Press, New York, 1961), translated byA. V. Littledale, p. 36. (Though not easy reading, this book gives deep understanding of prayer. One of its surpris-ing insights is that "even the dark night of the soul, the total absence of consolation, is a form of consolation" (p. 239). The paradox would seem to be that the ve~:y endurance of desolation with trust and love is itself a type of consolation. , * In his When the Well Runs Dry (Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, 1979), Thomas H. Green, S.J., has provided an encouraging synthesis of Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Leonard Boasei and The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery / 817 Levels of Prayer. Consequently, as one sinks down past the first or sensuous level where vocal prayer finds expression, past the second and third levels where meditative and affective prayer predominate, and into the fourth level where prayer of.simplicity (simple being) occurs, the praying person hears more and more clearly the call of Christ within. Here one listens with a deeply passive alertness underneath the swirl of activities on the top three levels.'° Here the God-hunger is never sated; here in faith one feels heard, faced, touched by the Other. From here one responds with a surprising strength and tenderness. For, from here an all-embracing hope reaches up through the top three levels to say: "There will always be someone to serve and to love wherever I go, whomever I meet, whatever be the conditions of myself and others," From here love explodes up through the top three levels in strong generosity: "How can I give joy to my friends, coworkers, people I serve? How can I help each discover his or her deepest value and find this in each other and in Christ?" Thus, at the fourth level one seems to discover the peaceful river of God's mysterious presence, the radical source of discernment underlying consola-tion and desolation, the prayer of quiet calmness underneath the normal dryness of routinized life, the sometime feeling of dereliction when God is Closest, and the source of exuberantly hopeful generosity at the call of Christ. Influence of the Fourth Level on the Top Three Levels Despite its many levels, human experience is a unified focusing on the world, God, and self. So, it is not surprising that the peace of the fourth level percolates up through the upper three levels--with varying results. For example, in flooding up into the top three levels, this peace may make a face radiant, give added physical strength, direct strong emotions into creative activity, lend stable purpose .to one's thinking, imagining, feeling, deciding. Under these conditions even the ordinarily dour person will occasionally appear to be cheerful and rather outgoing. Because joy and lightness of heart are not infrequently a result of this pe~ace, people may rashly judge that a per-son undergoing deep sorrow at the third level is strange because of "his being unmoved, his quiet smile." On the other hand, uneasiness felt at the fourth level can move up and disturb. A person may be fe~eling euphoric at the top three levels and yet expe-the Cloud of Unknowing, within his own experience of prayer and of giving spiritual direction. ¯ Especially helpful are Chapters IV, V, and VI where he imaginatively and succinctly describes the Dark Night of the Senses and the Dark Night of the Soul. ~o M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., works with brilliant clarity at this fourth level in his two articles "Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet" (REwEw FOR RELIGIOUS, Vol. 35, 1976/5, pp. 651-662) and "Progress in Centering Pr~iyer" (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOOS, VOI. 38, 1979/6, pp. 833-838). These are complemented by Thomas Keating, O.C.S.O., with his "Cultivating the Centering Prayer" (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Vol. 37, 1978/1, pp. 10-15). 818 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 rience a vague restlessness; 'amid continuing success, the man who has everything may feel a sense of incompleteness; within a totally secure situation ("I simply can't lose") a sense of impending chaos sends up ripples of fear from the fourth level. When this happens, people will sometimes~seek to distract themselves from this basic uneasiness. They will overwork., start an unending process of job-jumping, try multiplemarria.ges, haunt psychiatrists, exhaust themselves .on attractive trifles like stamp collecting, golfing, crocheting and televiewing. St. Augustine's description of his ownfascinatio nugacitatis is a case history of one man's twenty-year struggle with constant uneasiness at the fourth level. But if peace from the fourth level is arising within a person's euphoria at the top three levels, it acts as a stabilizing ballast to the ballooning emotions and exuberant activities. For its very perdurance at the depth of one's being gives a sharp sense of the temporariness of success. Indeed, the .implicit awareness of God at the fourth level helps us to feel, as well as to understand, how relative are all events and things compared to the absolute faithfulness of the Lord. In this way, contemplation is permeating not only the top three levels of experience but entering into all the activities issuing from these levels of experience. The duality of contemplation and action is becoming more and more unified as the active person becomes more and more aware of the fourth level of experience. For the prayer of simplicity at the fourth level, in penetrating the top levels of experience, gives a new alertness to God's presence in others, a renewed hope in people's future fidelity, a deeper con-fidence in God's providence. Lastly, it should be mentioned here that the neurotic or psychotic person, if put in touch with the fourth level,, may find a new source of hope. Underneath all the disturbances at the top three levels where the psychiatrist competently works to free his client from constricting fears, is the fourth level where the spiritual director competently tries to help a person interpret God's call. Because these four levels intermingle, both the psychiatrist and the spiritual director must know something of the other's area of competence, must learn to respect each other's discoveries, and must cooperate to help their client accept and live within his limitations. In this way, the neurotic or the psychotic can slowly learn that God will be daily with him, that he can hope against hope without this being just another contradiction, that he is lovable and capable of loving, that, like Theresa of Lisieux, he can become a saint. '~ Four Dimensions of Prayer Experience. Once we have indicated, how the fourth level of awareness intermingles with and influences the other levels, we " In his Storm of Glory (Doubleday, Garden City, New York, 1955, Image) John Beevers indicates that Theresa of Lisieux struggled with personality imbalance of a serious nature from her mother's death (Aug. 28, 1877) until her miraculous cure by the Blessed Virgin (May 13, 1883). See pp. 34, 41-43. The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery / 819 are in a position to change the metaphor of "levels" to that of "dimensions" of experience. For human experience is marvelously unified and thus all the levels of awareness do permeate and mutually modify each other in forming a single human consciousness. For example, the fourth level contains the deep root of every prayer. Yet this prayer flowers differently, e.g., into prayer of the feelings and imagination at the third level, into reflective-meditative prayer at'the second level and into vocal prayer (action-prayer) at the first level. This is why these forms of prayer can be equally profound, can succeed each other quickly during a fifteen-minute period of prayer, can support and challenge each other, and can vary in intensity as does conversation between two human beings. This interchange between levels of prayer experience is also the reason why discernment, though founded radically at the fourth level in basic peace or uneasiness, nevertheless also occurs at the third level in the shapes of consola-tion, desolation, obedience, friendship; at the second level in terms of Scrip-ture, historical memories, and reasons pro and con; and even at the first level in the setting of such conditions for discernment as fasting, silence, and mortification. Obviously, then, the presence of God, so intimately and per-duringly active at the fourth level, is not limited to that level of awareness. Consequently, to change the model of explanation from "levels" to "dimensions" is not to deny the distinctions among the four levels and to homogenize their diverse influences on each other. Rather, it is to assert con-comitantly the remarkable unity of a praying person's consciousness. This is to say that all four levels, while remaining distinct, nevertheless are como penetrating and mutually influencing each other like distinct eddies in the single stream of human consciousnesL ,Some Cautions About the Fourth Level Because the above description of the location and the dynamics of the fourth level is rather crude, one must carefully assess one's own experience to see if it somewhat fits this description. One should not be unduly surprised if things are not totally clear. Then, too, one's spiritual director should be con-sulted for the necessary qualifications of the many flat statements made above. At the heart of each person is the deepest mystery and this article can hold only a fitful candle-flame to it. It is hoped that the shifting shadows accompanying such a flame will not obscure the basic contours outlined. For there are many, many layers of experience, and consequently, many, many interpretations of them to be considered. Still, no matter how many levels of experience, there is always the last and deepest level of man's being where union with God is radical.'2 ,2 Would it be outrageous to predict that growing sensitivity to the fourth level of experience will occur through steady practice of the examen of consciousness? 1120 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 Further, though God may be most present and most clearly speaking at the so-called fourth level, still he is also present in all the levels above. As a result, it takes some reflective living to distinguish these levels and to calibrate their functions. So I have been warned: "Only veterans of the spiritual life will really understand what you are saying; others will be mystified or will mistakenly think that they understand--with consequent bad results." In response to this, I can only say that the Lord protects those trying to find him and that no one can escape the facing of mystery deep within himself. It seems to me that we are never "safe" with any mystery, never in control, never ade-quately understanding, always searching and groping, always trusting amid our fears. If we must take chances in order to grow, then here would be the best place of all to gamble. Now Available As A Reprint Prayer of Personal Reminiscence: Sharing One's Memories With Christ by David J. Hassel, S.J. Price: $.60 per copy, plus postage Address R~view for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Journey into Journey--A Reflection Rita Bernard Walton, S.S.J. Sister Rita's last article, "Nomadic Memories," appeared in the January issue, 1978. She resides at St. Charles Seminary; Overbrook; Philadelphia, PA 19151. i was tired, as though at the end of a long journey. Long it had been, for I had journeyed into the human condition and had come to the doorway of under-standing that the human condition was so fragile, so delicately beautiful and so unique. I had journeyed and had come to the crossroads of another journey. It was there that I met Jesus in a new and startlingly beautiful way. For many days I had concentrated on the road itself, the dust, the rocks, the potholes, the many trials of faith and trust, the deaths along the way. It was easy to lose sight of the sunshine, even when it was directly overhead, when my mind grappled with the why of human events of suffering and death, events that seemed to crash in, like hurricane winds. Jesus had been my companion on the whole of my'journey, but for awhile I lost full sightoof him as I became enveloped in the dust-cloud of self pity and independence. It was only when I fell, or when I cried out in hurt or pain that my vision cleared enough to allQw me to see that others were just as fragile and beautiful as I, and I saw him in them. Friends tended to my wounds, making his,compassion so real. I continued on my journey, renewed in tasting the empathy that had been portioned out to me. It was when I came to what seemed like the end of my journey, at the crossroads, that my vision cleared in grace and I saw Jesus again. He was standing there right in front of me as though in a line at the bus depot. He was as dusty and worn down at the heels as I was. He had been journeying in the human condition, too. We looked deeply into each other's eyes, feeling recognition flood within as our eyes drank in the sight of the human condition. "I have come to do the will of him who sent me" (see Jn 6:35-40) we both said together, laughing and hugging 821 822./Review for Religious, ~'olume 39, 1980/6 each other as old friends do. Calvary lingered in my bones and memory. We had tasted each other's experience in dialogue often along the way before this. The look in our eyes now spoke more eloquently than words as we recalled our meetings on The Hill. I saw myself reflected in his eyes and came to understand how much he loved so many other fragile creatures like me--enough to die upon that Hill. Suddenly, I saw an endless procession of fragile creatures reflected in his eyes as once again I heard him say: "I have come to do the will of him who sent me. come follow me" (ibid.; Jn 1:43). All through my life I had worked to achieve something and here I was wrapped in the total surprise of being given unconditional love and the knowledge of its depth of meaning, of its desire for response. I felt rooted in time, yet weightless, as my mind and heart saw and felt the others who had responded to his call. I saw Jesus before me gesturing like a white-faced clown who beckons a crowd to come forward. He skipped around gleefully to show the.adventure with him that lay ahead. I felt life and death penetrate me, both at the same time. Self came to life and self died as I stepped forth, lifted by the urgency ofthat leap. I found myself transformed, a new clown among clowns, called to love the human condition. The clowns remind us, with a tear and a smile, that we share the same human weakness. Thus, it is not surprising that, in the:clown, we have a powerful image to help us under-stand the role of, the minister in contemporary society.' I had laughed and cried so often along the way, feeling the human condi-tion fired in my bones, but it was only my own condition that I had felt. I had seen others and so often moved on without feeling. In this leap away from myself I experienced the desire to share in, and feast in the human condition of my brother an~d sister clowns, the soon-to-be Clowns as well as the never-to-be clowns. Jesus had touched my fire-brighted stillness and unharnessed me. I no longer marched in my own parade~ My mind whirled in thoughtful excitement and new comprehension as I" found myself thinking of my Old Testament favorites, friends whose life stories had~ encouraged me to persevere along the way. I laughed when I thought of Abraham. In my own way I understood how he felt having been stirred by Yahweh (Gn 12:1). When Abraham was seventy-five years oid he had an experience 0f God that created a disturbance in the order of his life. Yahweh took possession of him as friend and placed within him the seed for upsetting the known order of the time. Abraham was headed toward a new foundation caused by the deliberate intervention of God into the course of human history. In response, Abraham abandoned his natural roots and "went" (Gn 12:14). Abraham was called to bring life to celebration in know-ing God's affirmation, and he allowed God to alter the course of his life ' Nouwen, Henri J. M., Clowning in Rome, New York, 1979, p. 2-3. Journey into Journey--A Reflection dramatically. His response brought biblical religion to birth. God moved across the existing culture, purified the existing religion and showed himself to be a personal, saving God. Abraham's story is a story of the trials and con-solations he experienced in his need to have faith in the God who called and stirred him. I think Abraham would have made a good clown. His faith touched me as I reflected on his journey into a new land. I, too, was journeying in a new land and realized that love had placed within me, also, the seed for upsetting my known order of time. Jesus had intervened in the course of my human history and created a disturbance in the order of my life with his call to follow him. He walked on my sand and seeded the field of me. He called me friend, beloved; and I felt his warmth. I was unbirthed, in labor to be born, wrapped in silent wonder, wrapped in warmth, encased, ensacked in womb-like nurturing, waiting to become more of who I am. I was born and aging, greying, daily dying, stepping slower, encased, ensacked in tomb-like mystery, waiting to become more ofwho I am. I was spiraling unborn to birth, spiraling birthed to dying, going both ways--to life, to death-- like the seed, dying to be alive. Quantum leap, broken shell, o rising beauty from out of clay, reaching upwards to the Son; I felt the warmth of him who enters and transforms in utter silence and mystery. His warmth pulled my roots down into the numerous sands of time. His warmth pulled my beauty up into the spiraling newness of his life. Ah, the wonder of it all. I was 894 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 nurturing the mystery of God in me, waiting for the moment to be more of who I am. I had journeyed into the human condition and found the footprints of those who had been there before me. I had cried out from my own slavery that held me deep within my selfishness. I had longed for a new freedom. My Lord, I ask you' to lure me once more and lead me out into the wilderness and speak to my heart. Give me back the vineyards of your love and make my troubled valley a gateway of hope. Show me how to respond to you as I did when I was young, as I did when I came out of the Egypt of sin and into the land of freedom in your love. When that day comes, teach me again how to call you "my husband" and no longer let me call you "distant Lord." Take the names of sin off my lips; let them never be uttered again. When that day comes make a treaty for me with all that is wild in me. Break up the battle in me and make my sleep secure. Betroth me to yourself forever, betroth me with integrity and justice, betroth me with tenderness and love. Betroth me to you with faithfulness so I may come to know you. (see Ho 2:16-22) The Lord put Moses before me for reflection. He marks a turning point in salvation history and is a promise, an expectation for the future (Dt 18:15). Moses' journey with God took him to.the edge of fulfillment. He was deprived of the joy of entering the Promised Land in this life. His glance across the Promised Land accepted ownership of it for his people and it climaxed his ministry to them. His glance thrust us forward as a people of God. Glances along my journey, glimpses of future freedoms thrust me forward, too, and helped form me along the way. My living-dying-living is an exodus event that I continue to celebrate in my covenant with God in grace. I had to learn, as did Moses and the Israelites, to live with confidence in God. God wished me, too, to be content with him. Though he provided much manna, he continued to call to a deeper surrender, to total reliance (Dt 8:2-3). Exodus became a present :reality in the celebration of Eucharist. My "daily bread experience" called me to come out of my self-will slavery into the freedom of surrendering my needs to my Provider. I began to learn to live Journey into Journey--A Reflection / ~125 without the securities and comforts that had been baals along the way. He gave to me in "miraculous measure" (see Ex 16:14-31, 17:6) to increase my faith in order to conquer temptations and survive the desert trials. I began to realize that my whole life was dependent upon his sovereign grace and prom-ise. I felt the trust formed within me asI came to a new life, became a truer person, nourished and brought into covenant. My gratitude and trust found expression in the celebration of the Eucharist and in the ways I began to live with others. His all-the-time presence which had cut into my life, became a deeper experience of presence. This "peak:' experience left its mark on me and continues to call me into wonder and celebration and into deeper exami-nation of the heart of my being. I found that I was interacting with the extra-ordinary love of God. Justice, equity and charity e.ntered a new depth within me. "The wages of a day laborer are to be paid before the day is over, before sundown of the day itself, since he is poor and looks forward to them" (Dt 24:15). This thought brought affirmation alive in me. To pay my brothers and sisters their due ,wages before the sun goes down, to affirm them for who they are, for what they do, was to help me to live in sacred truce with my God and with each one of them. Affirmation makes me lovable. God affirmed me by my creation, by my calling to be more along the journey. Affirmation enriched community liv-ing and spilled out over into liturgy where the heart of affirmation comes to a depth of appreciation around the table of the Lord. I had journeyed into the human condition and learned affirmation from God's presence to Abraham, to Moses in the desert, and with me in the desert night into which he had invited me. I realized that finally My self-will cocoon had worn thin. It had cracked. The long hours of darkness and death-like sleep were at an end. A new awaking had flashed through my being, and I felt the pulsation of new life in the deep recesses of my unknown self. I felt my weakness, fragileness, and the limited space this life permits; but I had come to know the unbounded space of time that my Creator has. I felt a flutter in my new wings, faith sustained and overcame the fear of being lifted by the gentle breeze that warmed my wings and lifted them to the sun and sky. There ffere flashes of color and shapes of hope I had never seen before. They surrounded me and formed a world of trust that enhanced the colors I, too, had been gifted with. Wings and color, 826 / Review for fleligious, Volume 39, 1980/6 warmth and sun, gentle .breeze and cracked cocoon, --a new world, a new pulsation of life, and surrender, amen, your will be done. . and I was born, and borne aloft to him on the wings of love. Silence, burst of sound. Darkness, flash of light. " Once entombed, now unwombed, made real. Made real and set free, set free in the desert castle of life, sparked by the Flame of Love, enveloped by the Cloud of the Spirit, held only by the Song of Mortalness and the time to sing it in joy. I was made real, with what was real gone. I no longer fit into the crevices of the past nor in the ways of yesterday. I couldn't speak to yesterday as once I did. I tried and laughter faded, while puzzles formed and pain stood up. Yesterday and I were no longer one, and I had to trust that wings and colors would speak for themselves, that pains would be salved by the Son for I could not fold my wings to return to the cocoon of yesterday. A new form of life was presented io me in my quantum leap; for it to remain effective I knew I had to relate to and affect the world where I lived. I had to examine what would guide and support, my internal strength during my period of adjustment~ I was. on journey with a definite purpose, to keep cove-nant with my beloved God. I knew my quantum leap was a "peak" moment to recall and bring to celebration. I knew that I had to celebrate.by living fully alive, deeply in tune and in harmony with the life that surrounded me. God had funneled me down through many generations of people and I had to live as an important part of the whole production of life. I realized that Jesus held the promise of life. He set me free from sin and death through the sorrow and joy of the cross. Faith and trust had to stay alive in me and come to external expression in the celebration of life. Jesus had drawn me close and changed the structure of my existence. I became aware of his wanting my total dependence, a dependence of love, a life of daily living- " dying-living in the internal martyrdom of the consuming fire of love. I felt like bread dough that had become leavened and I was rising to the proportion that Journey into Journey--A Reflection / 827 he had measured out for me. He asked only for love. His was the action which created laughter within me, a love that reflected itself in a deeper sense of peace and joy. I was given a new identity in living a deeper form of covenant love. I was being built and structured into a new expression of love that gentles, purifies and strengthens as it sets the soul aflame with the desire to serve and love in total unity of mind, heart, and will. Nothing seemed dif-ferent, yet everything was different, is different. There is a new beauty in the air, in the pulsation of life and in silence which is an alive silence filled with wonder. In the silence of wonder I found and. still find my attitudes under reform. My wildness is being consumed further. The cry of the poor wants to be heard; and Jesus asks for a compassionate friend to respond to the cry of pain, of loneliness, of suffering that is crying out from members of his bruised body. In my meeting with Jesus at the crossroads of my journey, in the quan-tum leap of faith, in exodus from self, Jesus had blessed me--blessed me as poor. He brought me to the beautiful awareness of the fragileness of the human condition we all share. In union with him in the blessed poverty of dependence I am learning to share his love-gift. His living word gives me courage and encouragement. I hear him say: You are poor, and I have need of your povertyr your dependence on Me, Blessed are ihe poor in spirit; the kingdom o'f heaven is theirs (Mr 5:3). Your Father, who sees all that is done in secret, will reward you (Mt 6:6). You are poor, and I have need of your poverty to fill the hungry with good things and to give dessert to the poorest poor who are filled even with the crumbs of things, and the little that the poor can share. You are poor. Come! I know the plans .I have in mind for you. Plans for you to seek me with all your heart (Jr 29:11-14), for you are poor with need to find me, with need to listen so to listen to the poor and the poorer-- with a heart's care. 828 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 You are poor. The Plan I have for you is poor, a foolish plan, a prophet's plan. ¯ Console my people, console them (Is 40:1). Go now to those to whom I send you. and say whatever I command you (Jr 1:7). Do not be afraid, for I am with you (Is 43:5). I have called you- pool', I will be with you--poor, passing through the sea.--poor, walking through fire~ poor, you are precious in my eyes--poor, you are honored--poor, and I love you--poor. Do not be afraid, for I am with you. You are poor, and I have need of your poverty for the poor are blessed in spirit, heaven is the kingdom that is theirs. It is the Father's given reward. You are poor . Come! I lead you with reins of kindness, With leading strings of love (Ho 11:4), for you are poor with need to be fed, with need to be led-- so to, lead, for it is only the led who become those who lead. You are poor, and I have need of your poverty; for the poor are blessed in spirit, heaven is the kingdom that is theirs. It is the Father's given rewhrd You are poor, and I have need of your poverty. Come! I shall feed you in good pasturage. Journey into Journey--A Reflection / 829 You will rest in good grazing ground. I will show you where to rest (Ezk 35:14-16) Come! Come to feed the rich who fatten on the spoils of greed. Come! Come to look with me for the lost one, the stray one, the wounded one. Come! Be a true shepherd to them. You are poor, and I have need of your poverty, for the poor spirit is blessed. Heaven is the kingdom, a reward given by the Father who sees. Who sees that you are poor. You are poor, and I have need of your poverty. I have need for your spirit to be poor, poor enough to be sustained only on manna, on quail, on water, from rock (Ex 16), poor enough to be sustained on providence, the sustenance of the poor. You are poor, and I have need of your poverty. Come! Show the anawim the manna for thb seventh day so they may gather and share what few omers they need (Ex 16:23). Bring forward the people tha~t is blind, yet has eyes, that is deaf and yet has ears (Is 43:~). They are poor and in need of your poverty. Your poverty-- my song, piped through a bruised reed of foolish clay. Come! Sing a new hymn! Let praise resound from the ends of the earth, Let the sea sing praise, 830 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 Let the deserts and the cities raise voice! (Is 42:10-11). Your poverty--my song, piped through a bruised reed of foolish clay. Come! Come to the water, thirsty as you are; and though you have no money, come! I make no charge for corn, for wine, for milk. I make no charge for satisfying bread (Is 55:1-3). Come! Give your attention, listen! I know theplans I have in mindforyou (Jr 29:1 l). Come! Come to covenant (Is 55:4). you are poor. Your poverty--my song. My words do not return to me empty. They water the earth. They give growth and seed (Is 55). --seed for the poor. Your poverty--my song. You are poor, and I have need of your poverty, for the poor spirit is blessed. Heaven is the kingdom, a reward given by the Father, who sees . . and he took pity on them. (Mk 6:34). He took the five loaves and the two fish. (v. 41). They all ate., and (v. 42) They collected the scraps remaining, twelve baskets full (Mt 14:20). Come! You are poor, and I have need of your poverty. In grace and love I respond: Let what you have said be done to me (Lk 1:38). I am poor, ° and I have need of your song. Journey into Journey--A Reflection / 831 It took many years to form Israel as a people:. It takes us years to be formed as his beloved. We each experience our own Exodus, Covenant, Tran-sition, and Celebration through many times of stepping but of chronolo.gical time into kyriological moments. So, come! I was tired, as though ~at the end of a long journey. Long it had been, for 1 had journeyed into the human condition to find that the next stage of the journey was just beginning. I have joyfully met you along the way. Come! O God, in mercy bless us; let your face beam with joy as you look down on us. Send us around the world with the news of your saving power and your eternal plan for all people. How everyone throughout the earth will praise you! (Ps 67:1-3, adapted The Way). An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Developmental Stages and the Contemporary Male Novice Jonathan Foster, O.F.M. Father Jonathan is Director of Continuing Education for the Chicago-St. Louis Province of Franciscans. He holds a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago in Adult Education and Develop-ment. His present address is Office of Continuing Education; 3400 St. Paschal Drive; Oak Brook, IL 60521. Writing an article such as this is a precarious business. The study of adult development stages is of fairly recent origin in the empirical sciences. There is some very interesting theory (Erikson, 1963, 1964; Kohlberg, 1968; Levinson, 1978; Fowler, 1978; Vaiilant, 1977), but not an abundance of evidence. Moreover, what theory and evidence exist leave us with no clearcut delimita-tion of such stages. One prominent developmentalist (Neugarten) has in fact stated that all we know is that there is some development in adults. Its precise staging is by no means widely accepted. An article such as this is also precarious because of the subject of interest: novices. They comprise no one adult developmental stage. In recent years in my own community, the age range has run from twenty-two to fifty. To treat them all as "young adults" is obviously to allow some of them to fall through the cracks, or, if you will, off the end. Nevertheless, I will attempt to make some sense out of the evidence we have to date, and apply this to a reasonable estimate of what a novice is. I take the age of a typical novice from our Vocation Center's projection of the next few classes currently in pre-novitiate programs for our province. According to this projection, the age of most novices in the immediate future will fall between twenty-two and twenty-eight. There will certainly be a few older than this. But it is not likely, in view. of current policies, that there will be any younger. The observations I will make here will concern the generality of 832 Developmental Stages / 883 young American adults, from whose company we can assume most novices come. According to Levinson (1978), the essential task of the young adult is to separate himself .from emotional dependence on his family and the social structure from which he comes-- not thesame, it should be noted, as destroy-ing his roots. He does this by exploring different possibilities for making his life and creating a stable life structure in which to live out whatever this separation has led him to. Both elements, exploration and stabilization, need equal attention during this period. In one way or another, ehch of the stages we shall look at attempt to deal with this dynamic. The Developmental Task: Identity and Dream Formation I am treating these two stages as one because of their intimate connection with each other. By identity I mean the ability of the individual to see himself as essentially the same person as he passes through the many, even profound, changes of his life. The first great change in a person's life is the traumatic passage from adolescence to adulthood with all the separation and newness it brings with it. The achievement of identity is not so much the search for something new and frustratingly elusive as it is the maintenance and building of a "unique and reasonably coherent whole".(Erikson, 1968), something that holds together and remains ultimately the same despite the shock of change, and the addition of the new. In other words, "identity" is not exclu-sively drawn from within. It is built on a given reality growing out of the experience of community, persons, the historical times, and especially at this age, out of ideology. Ideology is a vision according to which the individual wants to live. Identity in this ideological sense moves into dream formation, a concep-tion of life that the individual picks oi~t as most suitable to his personality. Identity is thus not a mere summation of all experiences a young man has. It is the process by which he tries to integrate what he already knows about himself with elements of experience that seem to promise him a vision and purpose by which he can live and give meaning to life. In this process he must perceive himself as at core unchanged. The question he must answer at this stage of life is simply, "Do I fit with this dream?" Several elements go into the achieving of this identity. One of the principal catalysts is the attraction of a strong ideological system, such as, for example, the Franciscan way of life. This is the "dream." It may stem from a purely ideological contact with St. Francis. But it does not become a real and viable dream until it is experienced in a vital institutional reality, and in attractive personalities living it out. In accepting and trying out the "lived dream," it is especially important that there be at least one special person who embodies that dream, and inter-prets it to the new aspirant in a way that has personal significance to him. This 834 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 is the mentor so often spoken of today. He is not typically a hcro at a distance--though this is possible--but, in our context, a committed religious who shares the younger religious' visionandwho pays special attention to the latter's apprenticeship in that vision. The first reality is probab!y of more significance to older communities with well-known and charismatic founders. We find it particularly so in the Franciscan order, whose founder is one of the most popular and attractive men in history. The problem is this, that today, to a far greater extent than in earlier years, young men are attracted to the Franciscan order precisely by the dream, with relatively less experience of those who profess to embody it. Up to fifteen years ago, most aspirants came to the order out 6f heavily Franciscan contexts, attracted, not by the historical vision of St. Francis--of which they had but a dim view--but by the actual way in which Franciscan priests and brothers lived their own vision of religious life, or by a traditional piety which was, upon close examination, barely distinguishable from that of any other religious order. The dream that attracts candidates today, however, is more often.in touch with the historical view. Candidates thus are more likely to be confused and puzzled by their encounter with many friars who entered the order out of con-tact with Franciscans, not St. Francis, and who may seem, therefore, to the candidate to have rationalized the historical "dream" away. It creates in him, moreover, great insecurities that perhaps his vision is not a real one, or that "those who count" may not view his "dream" as an acceptable version of the Franciscan vision. It is for this reason, once more, that the mentor is extremely important to the young religious, to reassure him--perhaps even to play the advocate before "those who count." In this connection, it seems desirable that the place where novices live should not feature a uniform view of the particular order's "dream." Both staff and community should display some diversity in interpretation of that "dream." Thus both mentor and community can at once challenge and support the candidate's perception of the "dream." Another identity-related problem with this age-group is the prolongation of the moratorium (Erikson, 1963). This is a period of life, usually beginning with adolescence and lasting an indeterminate period (often well into the mid-twenties), in which an individual, committed to nothing, explores and plays with a variety of possibilities or dreams. This is an entirely legitimate develop-ment, perhaps one that many of us never fully undertook. Ideally, it ought to be completed by the time of entry into novitiate, but in today's society, which increasingly delays adulthood, it is not at all unlikely that a candidate will try novitiate with the same degree of uncommittedness as he might hax~e tried being a cowboy in the nineteenth century. Novitiate, it seems, implies some degree of commitment to the dream, and"should not be 'viewed as a moratorium experience. A third problem is that young adults at the "identity-dream formation" Developmental Stages / 835 stage are given to caricaturization. In an attempt to make the dream fit, and fit so securely as to cover all aspects of the aspirant's reality, he tends to see it in terms of black and white. Consequently, he tends to portray his chosen dream somewhat unrealistically, and even to be intolerant of other dreams. The attraction of young people to an oversimplified view of life and reality is well known, and applies just as much to novices in religious orders. Kohibert (1968) and Fowler (1978) have both pointed out that people at this stage of development make moral and religious judgments primarily in terms of their commitment to a particular group of people or an institution which they see as embodying their dream. This is distinct from making judgments in terms of abstract principles applicable to one~'.s own group as well as others. Such a development is perhaps natural and necessary. However, the activity of an overzealous or overly charismatic director--or indeed mentor--can play directly into this .,caricaturizing tendency and allow it to sharpen into a dangerously unrealistic view of life. A further problem is that powerful religious conversions sometimes occur at this stage. Individuals allow themselves to be so overwhelmed by a vision or dream .that they cease to see continuity between what they were before the conversion and what they see themselves to have become because of the conversion. Indeed often they do not want to see the continuity. Such conver-sions, apart from rare cases, are obviously disruptive to the developmental process of identity formation. Of some interest to directors of a novitiate, which, ambng other things, is a time of an intense and unremitting daily round of organized prayer, is the attitude of young adults towards organized religiosity. It is in the latter phases of identity formation that participation in formal religious practice is typically at its very lowest ebb. This usually reflects the individual's attempt to separate himself from dependence on his family and culture, including the religious structure bound up with that. The fact is that it is precisely in the novitiate year that aspiring religious are subjected to the most intense exposure to formal religiosity they will perhaps ever know, and this may rub a bit excessively against the developmental grain. Some caution must be urged, too, concerning the possibilities of contem-plation at this stage. True religious contemplation--by means of which the individual, while retaining his identity, is drawn out of himself into union with God--is objectively oriented. It assumes some stable sense of identity. It is for this reason that religious contemplation is not normally found in young adults and most often flourishes in the more contented self-acceptance of mature adulthood. What passes for contemplation among the young is more typically a preoccupation with the achieving of identity than the handing over of this identity into union with God. The young adult is by developmental necessity more self-centered, indeed self-absorbed, than other-centered. Novitiate directors need to keep this in mind when inculcating habits of prayer and contemplation. To speak of the novitiate as a "year of contemplation" 8:36 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 can be misleading, and even, in terms of what both novices and their directors expect to happen, damaging. The Developmental Task: Intimacy Intimacy is basically the task of learning to establish close relationships with others, to respect human beings as ends, not mere means, of learning to communicate. It is a form of love, and it is the love that characterizes persons at this age. Erikson (1964) distinguishes this love of Relationship from the love of Care that is characteristic of the more mature adult. The task of intimacy may be described as one of the major tests of a person's identity. If this identity is'securely in hand, then one is capable of risking it in relationship, and indeed must do so. If the identity is not secure, intimacy is more difficult to achieve and is often avoided or at least sim~ated. Most young people, however, make serious forays into intimate or quasi-intimate relationships at this stage. Intimacy is indeed the task that marriage at this age seeks to accomplish. The relationship is not, however, exclusively heterosexual, although this is the typical form it takes. Erikson (1964), in a phrase reminiscent of St. Francis of Assisi who urged his brothers to exercise a mother's love for their confreres, wrote that intimacy also happens when "young adults become sons of each other." The failure to achieve intimacy results to some degree or other in isolation, the inability to relate deeply. A number of structures will be important in a novitiate to enable the process of intimacy achievement to go forward. Obviously, there must be opportunities for the development of friendships, including friendships with women. Some friendship will be available within the community, but since friendship-making is highly selective, this may not always be the case. With the smaller novitiate classes prevalent today, making intimate friendships has become more difficult. Larger classes make such relationships more possible. Smaller numbers limit the possibility. Given these smaller numbers, the importance of locating the novitiate in a community which includes a substan: tial number of other religious seems important. For this reason, close friend-ships outside the novitiate community cannot be excluded either. Hence the advisability of allowing, indeed encouraging, other forms of maintaining friendship contact: visits, correspondence, telephones. The mentor is very important to this task. The mentor-relationship is an intimate one when it is exercised in spiritual direction, confession, or simple friendship. There is indeed a case to be made (Levinson, 1978) for the "Special Woman" as mentor to the young male adult. In this relationship, intimacy expands easily into a heterosexuality which is less threatening to the celibacy aspect of the dream. A lived brotherhood is important for the young adult. Not only does it increase the likelihood of selective friendship, but failing this, still allows for a considerable amount of sharing at a deeper level. In this respect, the current emphasis in most orders on brotherhood or community is an especially attrac- Developmental Stages / 837 tive aspect of/he dream for young men. The achievement of intimacy in an all-male structure presents special problems. Women, in such situations, tend to get caricaturized. They may be over-romanticized as indispensable partners in the life-journey. They may be feared as a threat to the dream. Or they may be ridiculed as a result of a cultural residue of male chauvinism, a position unfortunately supported by a large segment of the male ecclesiastical establishment. Hence, it is important that novices have an on-going encounter with women their own age, such as for example the inter-novitiate program in the Chicago area where novices from several different communities of men and women meet weekly for study, prayer and informal interaction. However, it is also interesting to note that, even in the larger world, many men get so caught up in their dream, or their career, that women do not romantically interest them at this stage. This may very well describe the situa-tion of the modern novice, as we shall note when we discuss career consolida-tion below. What frequently happens, however, is that once they reach the thirties, some of that pressure lifts, and the quest for intimacy with women starts anew, including a deep interest in marriage. Homosexuality is a form of intimacy, and is, of course, always a problem in the all-male society. This is more true today when there has been some social legitimation of the homosexual friendship. There is simply no way of avoiding this possibility, and directors should understand that an occasional homosexual encounter neither automatically implies homosexuality nor is necessarily grounds for expulsion. Finally, the concern for intimacy explains in part the young religious' preference for one-to-one ministries over the ministries involving administra-tion, leadership and social change. It is the need for people in his life. Developmental Stage: Career Consolidation Vaillant (1977) points out that an intermediary stage occurs between Erikson's stages of Intimacy and Generativity, one that Erikson did not fully consider. This is the stage at which the young adult becomes preoccupied with establishing work skills and climbing the career ladder. It begins in the twen-ties, and lasts usually throughout most of the thirties. What is important about this period is the mastery of a craft, the seeking of approval for one's work and achievements, the thrust of ambition, the excitement of developing a career, the sheer pleasure of work and success. It is a time when the vividness of the dream recedes, and the individual focuses rather on the work associated with the dream. The role of the mentor also declines. Thus, what guides the young adult at this stage is neither parent, mentor, nor even dream. It is the satisfaction of the work itself. What happens at this stage may very well be the triumph of the larger society's "Dream" in the individual, the American Dream of Success and Achievement. Certain it is that American society strongly rewards work, achievement and success. It is not surprising that the 838 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 career-consolidation stage is accompanied to a large extent by the decline of the intense inner life that characterized the stages of Dream Formation and Intimacy. Given the increasing number of older candidates entering religious life, especially those already committed to or having just finished intensive preparation for professional careers, it is important that directors be aware of this dynamism. To the extent that this development stage is at work, the novice must have opportunities to exercise his competence, not, perhaps, in his chosen career, but at least in some area of novitiate life. This means that he shall have to be given some area of responsibility that is more than sweeping a corridor~ He must, moreover, be constantly able to exercise at least the basic tools of all work-competence: the hands, the mind, the imagination," and judgment-making that has consequences. The larger question may be to what extent this professional training and competence already acquired may have on the novitiate experience. Such training and competence may have achieved apart from the dream formation which the novitiate agenda is all about. It may even be somewhat separate from-- even in conflict with -- that dream. Yet it usual-ly has brought continued rewards and satisfaction so necessary at this stage of life. It is not clear to me how a novitiate experience handles such a conflict. But for a novitiate director to simply ignore this previous experience does not seem to me to constitute a reasonable response. These, then, are the stages of development likely to be encountered in a given novitiate class. Because of their fluidity and because of the individuality with which each person passes through them, they are perhaps useful more as mind-sets by the director than as the basis for actual guidelines. Three recom-mendations emerge strongly from their consideration, however. The first is the necessity to view a novitiate as a highly individualized experience. Not a solitary experience, but one which a group of young men move through together, each following to whatever extent necessary his own individual track. Obviously, Group Spiritual Direction is no substitute for individual attention. Which leads to the second recommendation, the need for mentors. Whether this role is carried out by the director, his associate, a chosen spiritual director, or another member of the religious community, its impor-tance is critical. Finally, given the social context of Identity/Dream Forma-tion and Intimacy, it seems important that the novitiate be not a sequestered experience. A director and his novices should not go off to the woods by themselves for a year. They should live in an extensive friar community and they should be in regular, on-going contact with the community-dream-- manifested certainly in its documents, but even more so by regular in-depth contact with the people who incarnate that dream in their lives. Yes Peter G. van Breemen, S.J. Father van Breemen is a staff member of the newly erected Dutch Center of Spirituality Om Vuur; Twelloseweg 5; 7419 BJ Deventer, The Netherlands. This article is a chapter from his forthcoming book, Certain as the Dawn, scheduled for publication by Dimension Books (Denville, N J) in the fall of 1980. doration always implies surrender, a fiat. In fact adoration is a surrender of our whole being, a dedication of all our affection, a gift of every minute of our time. Adoration has to be lived; it commands a life-style. Since adoration is the ultimate, it includes everythir~g. Adoration is a Yes, expressed with or without words during prayer, but then lived every single moment of the day and of the night. Being the ultimate, adoration also provides perspective to all that precedes; the total Yes injects meaning into everything that is encom-passed by it. Three concise lines which Dag HammarskjOld wrote in his diary in March 1956, some five years before his tragic death, offer a framework for a meditafibn on Yes. You dare your Yes--and experience a meaning. You repeat your Yes--and all things acquire a meaning. When everything has a meaning, how can you live anything but a Yes!~ You Dare Your Yesmand Experience a Meaning "Yes" is a daring word: it implies arisk and requires courage. It means a leaving behind in order to move ahead. We leave behind what is certain and we ventureinto the unknown. We give up what has become dear and proceed as a ' Dag HammarskjOld, Markings, transl, by Leif SjOberg and W. H. Auden (London, Faber & Faber), p. 110. 839 840 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 free person without looking back. "None of you can be my disciple if he does not renounce all his possessions (Lk 14:33). "Whoever puts his hand to the plow but keeps looking back is unfit for the reign of God" (Lk 9:62). It can be very hard to really say good-bye. A famous French proverb claims it is mourir un peu, a little, dying. It means farewell to people and to things to which we are far more attached than we realized. We give to the people with whom we live and we take from them. Somehow we are more aware of the sacrificing during the actual process, while the receiving becomes more manifest after it has stopped. It is like the various organs of the body which we easily take for granted as long as they function well, whereas we learn to appre.ciate them most when ill. It is only in the concrete leaving that we find out how dependent we are on the things we have collected during the years, how we have become entangled in the small world of our hands, our minds, our hearts. We have developed our own ways of enjoying and asserting ourselves in that small world, even to the point of imposing it on others. We have learned to manage in it. To leave means to cut the ego. That is one reason why we shrink from giving up the past. Being human is essentially living in an exodus-situation. Leaving is part of life. We have to ready ourselves in many .minor rehearsals for the final farewell which is the only absolute certainty of everybody's life. Apart from God, everything in life is transitory: everything biological, social, political, intellectual, etc. The refusal to accept this passing quality of life causes stunted growth, induration, and in extreme cases, neurosis. The early Chris-tians sometimes called their faith "The Way." God is always greater; he keeps us continually on the move. "Here we have no lasting city; we are seeking one which is to come" (Heb 13:14). Jesus stressed that the kingdom of God re-quires the Gift of self: "Whoever would save his life will lose it, whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mt 16:25). The giving up of oneself in this life is not done once and for all; it is an ever-growing gift of self and demands an increasing willingness to sacrifice. To leave people and things behind does not mark the end; rather it opens up a new beginning in a wider context. The severing of the umbilical cord introduces the baby into the family; the leaving of the family's security challenges the adolescent to venture into a big world; the renouncing which Jesus demands leads us into the kingdom of God. The pruning is for increas-ing the yield. The Father is glorified in our bearing much fruit. It is not the stripped, stifled, petty life that honors him, but the life which surges to the full. Jesus leads the way. This man-for-others appeals. The reflection of his intimacy with his Father intrigues and invites us. He calls us to follow. We do not know where his way will lead us, but we do have an intuition that it will transform us for the better. If our hearts are cluttered with houses or land, relatives or friends, job or hobby, he is going to set us free so that we can go forward. All that remains will be love--serving God and serving people. The Yes is particularly scary because it is so personal. It affects the deepest 841 in me, where I am most myself. There exists no mold for it. It is my yes, such as no one before me has ever said and in which no one can really accompany me. The Yes condenses my whole self. I have 'to descend into the depths of my self in order to perform the act of my life. The person who wants always to be upheld by others could never go that far. Yet in saying Yes, there is a solidarity with others which gives strength and inspiration. The community of all those who spoke their Yes gives us support. Outstanding is the help of Mary who is an immaculate Yes, a simple fiat. Above all, her Son in his absolutely unambiguous and unrestricted Yes, enables us to dare our Yes: "Jesus Christ. was not alternately 'yes' and 'no'; he was never anything but 'yes.' Whatever promises God had made have been fulfilled in him; therefore it is through him that we address our Amen to God." (2 Co 1:19-20). Nevertheless it remains an adventure to follow Jesus in his Yes. It entails giving up tangible security and the felt affirmation by others. It is an act of faith. "Yes" is a word of freedom; to be authentic it can never be forced. Ultimately it can be said only to a person, not to a thing or an institution. The German author Giinther Grass once wrote an enigmatic little "poem" to which he gave the title "Yes." This house has two exits; I use the third one. Between Anne and Anne, I choose for Anne. The interpretation is said2 to be that both exits of the house lead into meaning-lessness which G~nther Grass rejects. The third exit is not something but someone: Anne. Between Anne the saint and Anne the sinner, between Anne the beautiful and Anne the unattractive, the poet chooses the actual Anne, and through her finds life meaningful. His yes to the real Anne saves him from the existentialist void. Grass' poetic riddle rhymes well with HammarskjOld's clear entry: "You dare your Yes--and experience a meaning." Meaning implies more than an intellectual conviction; it comprehends the whole of life. True meaning is beyond success or failure. The Way leads to the wisdom of the cross; this is a disaster which is a triumph, and a victory which is a catastrophe. The paschal mystery unites the horror of the crucifixion and the glory of the resurrection. The folly of the cross reveals the ultimate mean-ing. The following of Jesus leads beyond the antithesis of humiliation and elevation. The Way leads into a new realm of life where old values acquire a new perspective and where what used to be considered meaningless shows an unexpected significance. Therefore it provides a tremendous strength for making sacrifices. As long as we count the cost, seek our own comfort, fight for our position or strive for recognition we have not yet said a whole-hearted gsef Sudbrack, S.J., in Geist und Leben 48, October 1974, pp. 346-347. 842 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/6 Yes nor experienced the true meaning of life. You Repeat~Your Yes--and All Things Acquire a Meaning It is not enough to say Yes just once, It has to,be repeated over and over again. We have to set out on a way and we have to carry on step by step. Our Yes is a growing reality; the further we go, the deeper and richer its content. The resistance, of course, is always there. We do not want to reiterate it in ever new circumstances. We find ourselves, like Jacob, resisting the angel of Yahweh (Gn 32:23~33). During the night Jacob crosses the ford of the Jabbok and untildaybreak he wrestles with aman whom he does not know is a divine messenger. At the end of his fight he asks for the stranger's blessing. He then receives a new name, Israel, meaning "you contehded with divine beings." In his struggle against God he becomes injured and keeps on limping. It is a strange, but .typical story. How difficult to recognize God in his numerous disguises. How easy to consider him a threat to be fought. How often is our encounter with God, before it becomes a bow to receive his blessing, first a long, dark ~resistance. How much harm do we inflict on ourselves in that opposition. Every refusal to repeat our Yes does harm to our personality; it stifles our growth, eats out our joy and reduces the meaningfulness of our life. What follows are self-concern, grudges, resentment, compensations, addic-tions of all kinds, polarization which we stretch too far, fencing in against other people. The half-hearted Yes creates impaired persons, very much unlike the kind God wants us to be. "I know your deeds; I know you are neither hot nor cold. How I wish you were one or the other--hot or cold! But because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth!" (Rv 3:15-16). The Yes has to be repeated so often that it includes everything in the past, in the present and in the future. As long as there is something in my past which I reject, there is still a screen in me that pr~events my being transparent. That which I repress or resent splits my inner self, or becomes a heavy chain I drag along behind me. It may take time to really accept the suffering or the failure that came to me, maybe long ago, but it is vital that I do accept it. The Yes can create a meaning where first there was none. The repeated Yes will become more mature, more profound, more silent, and eventually it will extract light from the dark, radiance from, the cross. "We know that God makes all things work together for the good of those who have been called according to his decree" (Rm 8:28). To say Yes is to accept the present. It means to acknowledge gratefully the talents and the possibilities I have without thinking that all of them have to be realized. It means to accept my limitations in health, education, character, etc., while at thesame time trying to overcome them. It means to transform gently weaknesses into strength, innate temptations into grace, given potential into a ripe harvest. It means to say Yes to the lives of others and to give them the room and the sympathy they need. It means to accept the situation I am in, Yes / 843 and myself in that situation. To repeat my Yes will lead to self-acceptance which in turn, will make everything else meaningful. It is obvious of course, that the Yes is not identical with a limp settling for anything, neglecting all attempts to improve things. The opposite is true: it is only by accepting them that things can be improved. No effort born of anger, impatience or resentment will bear fruit. An example may illustrate this point. Suppose the parents of a stuttering boy have great difficulty in accepting /he child's handicap. Whenever he stammers, they harshly make him repeat his words. One evening the parents discuss the situation. They both had noticed that the stuttering was becoming worse and they begin to see that the pressure they put on the boy may have something to do with it. So they decid~ to make no more remarks when the child stammers. Both father and mother manage to live up to their resolution, and yet they find that the speech handi-cap is becoming still worse. After some time, they talk things over once more and discover that, in their first discussion, they had changed only their policy, their external approach, but not their interior attitude. They had stopped scolding all right, but they still resented the stuttering. The boy was no longer being reprimanded, but he still felt the pressure of disappointing his parents. At this :pOint the parents break through to a new mentality and accept the boy as he is, with his stuttering. The paradox is that from now onward, the child can slowly improve in his speech because he no longer has to. This is a real paradox: as long as the parents resentfully demanded it, progress was blocked; after thedefect is accepted in peace, it begins to improve. In some cases we are simultaneously both the parents and the boy! The Yes to the future is a stark act of faith since we do not know what ~ve are saying Yes to. It is only the confidence in a person that enables us to say Yes for better or for worse. In the wedding it is the trust in the spouse, together ¯ with our faith in God that allows us to engage in a common future and to accept whatever it has in store. In ordination and in religious profession it is--over and above the reliance on the community--the belief in the living God that constitutes the basis for commitment. Without a strong spirit of faith, it would be utter foolishness to promise solemnly and forever poverty, chastity, and obedience. In fact the beauty and the testimony of the vows con-sists precisely in their being so explicitly an act of faith. When Everything Has a Meaning, How Can You Live Anything But a Yes! The faithful repetition of our Yes eventually leads us to the watershed where life starts flowing in another direction. The uphill climb pays off in a panoramic perspective and gracious ease to live the Yes continuously. The pilgrim has become single-hearted and now sees God everywhere. The purity of his eye penetrates to the deepest Ground of everything and discerns all as grace-filled and meaningful. This in turn reinforces the Yes. Life has become whole and holy. Meaninglessness implies that the various life-experiences are disconnected 844 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/6 and therefore disconcerting. It just does not make sense! They present a void which creates feelings of despair. They paralyze all efforts to do something about it because they suggest that it is all useless anyway. Suicide becomes an alluring temptation. In the realm beyond the watershed the isolated pieces fall into place and show a pattern never perceived before. Perhaps it is more accu-rate to say that the change takes place not so much in the objective reality as in our view of it. We have finally reached the vantage point where we have the right perspective. The total Yes has rendered all reality transparent and coherent. We feel like Jacob awakening from his dream at Bethel: "Truly, the Lord is in this spot, although I did not know it!" (Gn 28:16). A deep joy a~ccompanies this experience. It is like coming home after a long, hopeless meander. That home is really the presence of God. We now recognize him everywhere, even where previously we had discerned nothing whatsoever of him. He is the bond that connects all. It is the old concept of divine providence which we rediscover in shining newness. Meaningfulness then, is not some-thing, but someone. God has nothing since he is the creator of all. He does not produce something which he then delivers. He remains the living center of all that is; without him, it could not be. In everything he gives, he gives himself as well; therefore he can be found in everything. It is ohly in recognizing God this way that reality acquires its full meaning, is allowed to be all that it is meant to be. The basic trust which is so vital for human well-being now extends to all of reality. "Nothing can separate us from the love of God." (Rm 8:39). The surrender can now be complete. How can we live anything but a Yes? We can join in with Charles de Foucauld in his prayer of abandonment: Father. I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will. Whatever you may do, 1 thank you: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures-- I wish no more than this, 0 Lord. Into your hands l commend my soul; I offer it to you with all the love of my heart, for ! love you Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into your hands, without reserve, and with boundless confidence, for you are my father. Others, to art.iculate their gift of self, may prefer the older prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola at the end of his Spiritual Exercises: Take, Lord, all my liberty. Receive my memory, my understanding, my whole will, Yes / 845 all that I have and possess. You have given all to me; I return it all to you. Do with me as you will; Give me only your love and your grace. with these I am rich enough and ! desire nothing more. In Luke's Gospel we find an expression of total abandonment that is still much older and took only one word:fiat. With it Mary chooses obedience as the pattern of her life, "Let it be done to me as you say" (Lk 1:38); through it she surrenders her body to God, and all her possessions are also included in this one act of abandonment. Said in a moment, it is spelled out in a lifetime. As a sheaf is bound in the middle and fans out towards the ends, so the life of Mary, in all its bounty, is held together by this little word. All her years before this moment flow into it and all the rest of her life flows from it. God's grace enables her to say it, and in saying it, she enables God's grace to work in her. It directs her whole beirig towards God and away from selfishness and self-concern. It makes her completely transparent so that through her the Light in its fullness can come into the world. It creates the room God needs to become man. Jesus is the embodiment of. Mary's Yes, the fruit of her fiat; greater fruitfulness is inconceivable. Her fiat in no way stymies her personality; in fact, it brings her utter fulfillment and is the prototype of all Christian fruit-fulness. We come to you, Mother of our Lord and Mother of us all, to thank you for your Yes that gave us the incarnation of God's own Yes and brought life to its fullness. We ask you, teach us to follow you in saying our Yes with faith and courage. You know the cost of living the Yes; protect ours in integrity and joy. Ask your divine Son for the grace always to repeat our Yes with an ever-growing surrender and to experience how this increases the meaningfulness of our life. Under your inspiration may we help to build the kingdom of God today and every day, for ever and ever. Amen. The Social Context of Personal Prayer in Seminaries Stephen Happel Father Happel is Associate Professor of Systematic Theology at St. Meinrad Seminary; St. Meinrad, IN 47577. This article is based on an earlier paper originally published in Learning to Pray Alone (Abbey Press), pp. 34-43. Private prayer is never accomplished without a social, communal context. Individual prayer has not only social conditions and social ramifications, but also social ingredients which quaiify and constitute its very nature. Our private languages are learned in the public forum. We speak to ourselves because others have spoken to us and because we have learned to speak to them. So too with God. Both the personal vocabulary and private grammar of our speech with God are primarily social-ecclesial in their initial stages (whether learned from parents or teachers), in their performance from day to day, and in their various results (ministering to others, praying with others, allowing the kingdom to be formed). If one combines this sense of the social dimension, indeed social constitu-tion, of prayer with its fundamental component, dialogue with the Other, then that Other will almost necessarily have the characteristics of the "social other" experienced at any given point in human development. So, for exam-ple, in one's earlier years, speaking with God is accomplished in the horizon of the discipline and "otherness" of one's parents. Religious psychologists maintain that it is possible atany given point in an individual's life to indicate the creative synthesis of parental figures which qualifies the notion of God.' Thus, I will maintain in the following that "the other" in the seminary context ' See A. Vergote, Psychologie religieuse (Brussels: Dessart, 1966), esp. pp. 294-299, 307. The Social Context of Personal Prayer / 847 will radically qualify the ability or inability of individuals to pray alone. How is "the other" experienced in the seminary environment? Needless to say, the reflections offered here should not be taken so much as judgment, but as description. It may be true that the achievement of human freedom in relation to God is the goal of seminary education programs; but what sort of inter-active freedom does seminary structure actt~ally provide? The typological description of institutional structure which follows is not so much an analysis of any particular seminary as it is the affective grid of the institution-known-as- seminary. I offer it as an hypothesis about the problem, and suggest that facing it constructively may assist in achieving a solution to the problem of praying privately.2 The Perfect Society: A Unity of Transcendentals The seminary, whatever its historical origins, seems to think of itself as an autonomous, indeed "perfect society." In an updated version of this ideal, it would be described as a place in which all would be brothers and sisters; in which power would intelligently persuade and invite to participation rather than willfully force; in which external forms of .religious expression would always mirror interior dispositions; and in which each person's relation to sur-rounding Nature would be in terms of appreciating and creating Beauty, rather than exploiting it. Affect and reason would be coincident; and the Good would necessarily flow from and be the origin of both. The truth would always be told; the good would always be practiced; and the beautiful would be in evidence everywhere. Institutional structure would incarnate and measure this integration; individuals would readily learn to assume the responsibility of living these goal,s; and, as St. Paul says, God would be "all in all." This enlightened reincarnation of Christian society, however, contains two major oversights of fact: namely, the overwhelmingly transient character of a seminary's student population, and what has been gracefully entitled by a colleague of mine "human sloth." These may be described in more classical terms as "the finite character of the human condition," and "original sin." Now the inclusion of these two facts of human experience into our descrip-tion of societal mix does not justify removing the human odcasion for achiev-ing freedom. I do not subscribe to the simplification which would suggest: "Mistakes will be made; therefore remove the possibility of mistakes." But their inclusion does allow us to see what happens when it is assumed that an institution can easily incarnate the human good without reference to the criticism required by the acknowledgement of finitude and guilt. The first consequence of these two facts is that power will inevitably fall to 2 1 am also convinced that some of the problems discussed and the solutions proposed, if utilized, would go a long way in aiding contemporary Catholic seminaries in their task of acculturating the older students who are entering seminary at present. 848 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/6 those who remain the longest in the situation, in this case to the faculty and administration. The second is that this power will be concretized in a bureaucracy which is supposed to "run the system" irrespective of the iden-tities of the participants. Students, faculty, staff, and administration will all feel victims of "the other" who is the system (confer the,response to ques-tions: "That's the way it's done around here," noting especially the neuter passive construction). But because students are the primary mobile popula-tion, they will feel the alienation of power