We are very grateful to S. Alioli, S. Moch and P. Uwer for their fruitful collaboration in developing the theoretical aspects of the analysis presented in this paper and for their continuous support in implementing the new methodology in the experimental analysis. We thank CERN for the very successful operation of the LHC, as well as the support staff from our institutions without whom ATLAS could not be operated efficiently. We acknowledge the support of ANPCyT, Argentina; YerPhI, Armenia; ARC, Australia; BMWF and FWF, Austria; ANAS, Azerbaijan; SSTC, Belarus; CNPq and FAPESP, Brazil; NSERC, NRC and CFI, Canada; CERN; CONICYT, Chile; CAS, MOST and NSFC, China; COLCIENCIAS, Colombia; MSMT CR, MPO CR and VSC CR, Czech Republic; DNRF, DNSRC and Lundbeck Foundation, Denmark; EPLANET, ERC and NSRF, European Union; IN2P3-CNRS, CEA-DSM/IRFU, France; GNSF, Georgia; BMBF, DFG, HGF, MPG and AvH Foundation, Germany; GSRT and NSRF, Greece; ISF, MINERVA, GIF, I-CORE and Benoziyo Center, Israel; INFN, Italy; MEXT and JSPS, Japan; CNRST, Morocco; FOM and NWO, Netherlands; BRF and RCN, Norway; MNiSW and NCN, Poland; GRICES and FCT, Portugal; MNE/IFA, Romania; MES of Russia and ROSATOM, Russian Federation; JINR; MSTD, Serbia; MSSR, Slovakia; ARRS and MIZS, ˇ Slovenia; DST/NRF, South Africa; MINECO, Spain; SRC and Wallenberg Foundation, Sweden; SER, SNSF and Cantons of Bern and Geneva, Switzerland; NSC, Taiwan; TAEK, Turkey; STFC, the Royal Society and Leverhulme Trust, United Kingdom; DOE and NSF, United States of America. The crucial computing support from all WLCG partners is acknowledged gratefully, in particular from CERN and the ATLAS Tier-1 facilities at TRIUMF (Canada), NDGF (Denmark, Norway, Sweden), CC-IN2P3 (France), KIT/GridKA (Germany), INFN-CNAF (Italy), NL-T1 (Netherlands), PIC (Spain), ASGC (Taiwan), RAL (U.K.) and BNL (U.S.A.) and in the Tier-2 facilities worldwide.
We thank CERN for the very successful operation of the LHC, as well as the support staff from our institutions without whom ATLAS could not be operated efficiently. We acknowledge the support of ANPCyT, Argentina; YerPhI, Armenia; ARC, Australia; BMWFW and FWF, Austria; ANAS, Azerbaijan; SSTC, Belarus; CNPq and FAPESP, Brazil; NSERC, NRC and CFI, Canada; CERN; CONICYT, Chile; CAS, MOST and NSFC, China; COLCIENCIAS, Colombia; MSMT CR, MPO CR and VSC CR, Czech Republic; DNRF, DNSRC and Lundbeck Foundation, Denmark; IN2P3–CNRS, CEA-DSM/IRFU, France; GNSF, Georgia; BMBF, HGF, and MPG, Germany; GSRT, Greece; RGC, Hong Kong SAR, China; ISF, I-CORE and Benoziyo Center, Israel; INFN, Italy; MEXT and JSPS, Japan; CNRST, Morocco; FOM and NWO, Netherlands; RCN, Norway; MNiSW and NCN, Poland; FCT, Portugal; MNE/IFA, Romania; MES of Russia and NRC KI, Russian Federation; JINR; MESTD, Serbia; MSSR, Slovakia; ARRS and MIZŠ, Slovenia; DST/NRF, South Africa; MINECO, Spain; SRC and Wallenberg Foundation, Sweden; SERI, SNSF and Cantons of Bern and Geneva, Switzerland; MOST, Taiwan; TAEK, Turkey; STFC, United Kingdom; DOE and NSF, United States of America. In addition, individual groups and members have received support from BCKDF, the Canada Council, CANARIE, CRC, Compute Canada, FQRNT, and the Ontario Innovation Trust, Canada; EPLANET, ERC, FP7, Horizon 2020 and Marie Skłodowska-Curie Actions, European Union; Investissements d'Avenir Labex and Idex, ANR, Region Auvergne and Fondation Partager le Savoir, France; DFG and AvH Foundation, Germany; Herakleitos, Thales and Aristeia programmes co-financed by EU-ESF and the Greek NSRF; BSF, GIF and Minerva, Israel; BRF, Norway; the Royal Society and Leverhulme Trust, United Kingdom. The crucial computing support from all WLCG partners is acknowledged gratefully, in particular from CERN and the ATLAS Tier-1 facilities at TRIUMF (Canada), NDGF (Denmark, Norway, Sweden), CC-IN2P3 (France), KIT/GridKA (Germany), INFN-CNAF (Italy), NL-T1 (Netherlands), PIC (Spain), ASGC (Taiwan), RAL (UK) and BNL (USA) and in the Tier-2 facilities worldwide.
We thank CERN for the very successful operation of the LHC, as well as the support staff from our institutions without whom ATLAS could not be operated efficiently. We acknowledge the support of Anapests, Argentina; YerPhI, Armenia; ARC, Australia; BMWFW and FWF, Austria; ANAS, Azerbaijan; SSTC, Belarus; CNPq and FAPESP, Brazil; NSERC, NRC and CFI, Canada; CERN; CONICYT, Chile; CAS, MOST and NSFC, China; COLCIENCIAS, Colombia; MSMT CR, MPO CR and VSC CR, Czech Republic; DNRF, DNSRC and Lundbeck Foundation, Denmark; EPLANET, ERC and NSRF, European Union; IN2P3-CNRS, CEA-DSM/IRFU, France; GNSF, Georgia; BMBF, DFG, HGF, MPG and AvH Foundation, Germany; GSRT and NSRF, Greece; ISF, MINERVA, GIF, I-CORE and Benoziyo Center, Israel; INFN, Italy; MEXT and JSPS, Japan; CNRST, Morocco; FOM and NWO, Netherlands; BRF and RCN, Norway; MNiSW and NCN, Poland; GRICES and FCT, Portugal; MNE/IFA, Romania; MES of Russia and ROSATOM, Russian Federation; JINR; MSTD, Serbia; MSSR, Slovakia; ARRS and MIZS, ˇ Slovenia; DST/NRF, South Africa; MINECO, Spain; SRC and Wallenberg Foundation, Sweden; SER, SNSF and Cantons of Bern and Geneva, Switzerland; NSC, Taiwan; TAEK, Turkey; STFC, the Royal Society and Leverhulme Trust, United Kingdom; DOE and NSF, United States of America. The crucial computing support from all WLCG partners is acknowledged gratefully, in particular from CERN and the ATLAS Tier-1 facilities at TRIUMF (Canada), NDGF (Denmark, Norway, Sweden), CC-IN2P3 (France), KIT/GridKA (Germany), INFN-CNAF (Italy), NL-T1 (Netherlands), PIC (Spain), ASGC (Taiwan), RAL (UK) and BNL (USA) and in the Tier-2 facilities worldwide.
Issue 28.1 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; EDITOR ¯ R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3~i Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited v¢ith ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial ottices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimontbly and copyright ~) 1969 by RE',q~w r.a RELIGIOUS at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class pos!age paid .'at Baltimore, .Maryblnd. Single copies: $1.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order_paya-ble to R~-:viEw :-'o~ RELtGIOt:S in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to r~present R~vlew FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address¯ Renewals and new subscriptions, where accom. panied by a remittance, should be sent to REvlgw :"OR Rr:LG~OUS; P. O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203. Changes of address, business correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent to R~:vlEw FOR RELIGIOUS ; 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, MarTland 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REvlr:w rOa R~L~GIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint ~ouis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answermg should be sent to the address Gf the Questions and Answers editor. JANUARY ~969 VOLUME ~8 NUMBER t REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Volume 28 1969 EDITORIAL OFFICE 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston'Street Baltimore, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Dlederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gailen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexed in the Catholic Peri. odical Index and in Boo/~ Re. view Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Ml. crofilms; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. HILARY SMITH, O.C.D. Qgiet Prayer for Busy Busy religious today seem to be shying away from more contemplative approaches to prayer. The references to quiet and recollection in the older spiritual books are considered now to refer back to a time when every-one's approach to God was modeled on that of cloistered nuns and monks. Yet, outside the religious life people as diverse as Walter Kerr and about the importance of some we are to maintain our sanity. I think it might be helpful the approach to God through Harvey Cox are writing kind of quiet periods if at this time to see that recollection and periods of quiet is neither an approach suited only for monastic congregations nor simply a far out, naturalistic fad in-dulged in by flower children. I think it might be profit-able to examine the approach some of the busy fathers of the Church used in treating of prayer to show that traditionally the effort to find God through recollection was not a practice limited to people in monasteries and cloistered convents. It is interesting to see what a lofty concept of prayer some of the busiest fathers of the Church recommended to their equally busy congregations. While the fathers did speak of prayer as asking God for things, just as preachers a few years ago did, they did not hesitate to talk or write about prayer as a simple raising of the heart to God, as recollection. This might be expected among the monastic Fathers such as St. Basil. But I think it is significant that the more active fathers--bishops, teach-ers-- should tell their congregations--the same people they warned about fornication and drunkenness--about the higher kinds of prayer. It will be helpful, before looking at the works of the fathers, to establish a fairly clear idea of the notion of praye~ that we will be looking for. What we hope to find are suggestions on the part of the fathers that their ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.CJ3., lives at 7907 Bellaire Boul-evard in Houston, Texas 77096. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS congregations of working men and housewives practice what we would call today, or at least would have called a few years ago, "mental prayer." In St. Teresa of Avila's classic definition, mental prayer "is nothing but friendly intercourse, and frequent solitary converse with Him who we know loves us." 1 This definition of prayer is broad enough to include methodical meditation and even vocal prayers said well, but I believe that it shows that the essence of mental prayer is not a systematic arrangement of considerations with a concluding resolution. Rather mental prayer consists essentially in "tratando," dealing with God, in a friendly way. St. Teresa presents a more specific method of mental prayer, sometimes called the prayer of active recollection. "It is called recollection because the soul collects together all the faculties and enters within itself to be with its God," St. Teresa says in the now quaint sounding language of faculty psychol-ogy. It is with this specific form of prayer, active recollec-tion, that we shall be especially interested. It is impor-tant for us today to understand that this approach to prayer was not peculiar to St. Teresa or to the medieval monastic tradition. It represents a traditional Christian approach to prayer recommended to busy Christians long before men and women with education and leisure were almost all found in monasteries and convents. I hope that the following few remarks of the fathers on prayer will show that the early fathers, not haunted'as spiritual writers a few years ago were, by the spectre of Quietism, did not hesitate to recommend to their congregations a form of prayer that we might think to be too lofty or too mystical. One. very good example of a father of the Church addressing himself to ordinary lay people yet recommend-ing a lofty prayer of recollection is St. Gregory of Nyssa. He was almost certainly married, since in his treatise on virginity he says that he regrets that he himself is pre-vented from attaining to the glory of this virtue. Al-though it is true that he lived in a monastic community for a while, he is most famous as the active bishop of Nyssa, a post he held for eight years., In his works es-pecially in his commentaries on the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes, he has in view the needs of the average Christian. Although he is inclined to the asceticism of the desert, he is not a desert father living in isolation from the world around him--a world that seems in many ways similar to our own--but rather a man living in the .1 St. Teresa, Way of Perlection, in The Complete Works o/ St. Teresa, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1950), v. 2, p. 115. world, steeped in its culture and interested in all it has to offer.~ In his treatise on the Lord's Prayer, St. Gregory de-scribes his idea of prayer: "First my mind must become detached from anything subject to flux and change, and tranquilly rest in motionless spiritual repose, so as to be rendered akin to Him who is perfectly unchangeable; and then it may address Him by this most familiar name and say: Father." a St. Teresa's description of the prayer of recollection in her commentary on the Lord's Prayer is closely parallel. She says: "The soul withdraws the senses from all outward things and spurns them so com-pletely that, without its understanding how, its eyes close and it cannot see them and the soul's spiritual sight becomes clear." 4 We must be careful to understand that neither St. Teresa nor St. Gregory is describing some form of mys-tical prayer. St. Teresa is careful to explain that what she is describing "is not a supernatural state but depends upon our volition; by 'God's favor we can enter it of our own accord." 5 Thus St. Teresa distinguishes this recol-lection from what the students of mystical phenomena called "infused contemplation." St. Gregory is not so explicit, but he gives us to understand that the mind lifts itself from created things and places itself at rest in God. There seems to be no question here of God effect-ing something extraordinary in communicating with the Christian. Less to the point is St. Gregory's definition of prayer in general. He says: "Prayer is intimacy with God and contemplation of the invisible." n Though not so graphic as the earlier description, this definition shows St. Greg-ory's lofty concept of prayer; and, found in a treatise written for laymen, it shows that he was not afraid of presenting his lofty ideas to ordinary people. Another early Christian writer who recommends a contemplative type of prayer to ordinary men and women is Origen. His treatise, De Oratione, one of the first Christian treatises of prayer, was written as a reply to questions raised by his friend and patron, the married deacon Ambrose. Although Origen does not describe a kind of active recollection as clearly as St. Gregory, he does indicate that married folk, such as Ambrose, need not confine their praying to the recitation of vocal pray-ers or to asking God for favors. His description of the preparation for prayer brings to mind St. Teresa's defini- = St. Gregory of Nyssa, The Lord's Prayer. The Beatitudes, trans. Hilda C. Graef (Westminster: Newman, 1954), pp. $, 8, 15, 19. 8 Ibid., p. ~8. *Peers, v. 2, 115. 5 Peers, v. 2, 110. 6 St. Gregory of Nyssa, p. 24. + ÷ ÷ Quie~ Prayer VOLUME 28 ~.969 5 4- Hilary Smith, O.C.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 tion of prayer as a friendly converse with God. He says that by the very way one disposes his mind to prayer, by the very attitude with which one prays, "he shows that he is placing himself before God and speaking to Him as present, convinced that He is present and looking at Him." 7 Further on he says: "When praying let us not babble, but let us speak to God"; and, "When we pray in this way [in secret] we shall be conversing with God." In another context, in his Contra Celsum, Origen speaks of approaching God in a similar, contemplative-like way. Celsus has complained that the Christians do not worry about the cult due to the national idols, nor do they erect temples for their own worship. Origen answers in a beautiful passage where he says that Christians carry the image of their God within themselves. Every Chris-tian, he says, "strives to build an altar and carve a statue himself, keeping his eyes fixed on God, keeping his heart pure, and trying to become like God." s Again in De oratione, Origen recommends that Am-brose find a quiet place in his home to pray: "If you want to pray in greater quiet and without so much. dis-traction, you may choose a special place in your own house, if you can, a consecrated place, so to speak, and pray there." 0 Origen might well have been speaking to today's busy sisters. Another Church writer known for his work on prayer is Tertullian. Scholars say that Origen very likely drew many of his ideas on prayer from a Greek translation of Tertullian's De oratione. Some idea o[ his realistic recom-mendations to busy people on prayer may be drawn from this remark in his treatise on marriage and remarriage. He has been speaking of the value of continence as an aid in attaining union with God. Then almost equating prayer and union, he says that "men must need pray every day and every moment of the day." This may seem like only a paraphrase of the command "Pray always," but in the context it can be considered as an elaboration of Christ's command. Tertullian does not take Christ's words to mean that we should be constantly petitioning God for help, but rather that Christians should be con-stantly united to God in prayer through much the same kind of converse or treating with God that St. Teresa recommends. One last remark, this h'om St. John Damascene, may serve as a summing up ot what we have seen in St. Greg-ory o~ Nyssa, Origen, and Tertullian about the possi-r Origen, Prayer. Exhortation to Martyrdom, trans. John J. O'Meara (Westminster: Newman, 1954), p. 37. Cels., 8, 17, 18; quoted in Jean Danielou, Origen (New York, 1955), p. 35. Origen, Prayer, p. 43. bility for a contemplative approach to prayer for busy people. It is true that at the time he produced his little work, Barlaam and Joasaph, he was more of a monk than an active preacher, but he says that he is summarizing the ideas of the fathers before him. He says that the fathers define prayer as "the union of man with God," "angel's work," and "the prelude of gladness to come." He asks: "How shalt thou converse with God?" and an-swers: "By drawing near him in prayer." And he ex-plains: "He that prays with exceedingly fervent desire and a pure heart, his mind estranged from all that is earthly and grovelling, and stands before God eye to eye, and presents his prayers to him in fear and trem-bling, such a one has converse and speaks to him face to face." lo Better known, and at the same time a perfect example of a man who was busy, prayerful, and ready to recom-mend prayer to his congregation was St. Augustine. The ditficulty in discussing St. Augustine's approach to prayer briefly is that he has said so much about prayer. I have selected a few passages in which he seems to be speaking especially to busy people and in which he seems to be dealing with what we would call mental prayer, and more specifically with the approach to mental prayer that we described above as active recollection. Shortly after his conversion, before his baptism, Augus-tine retired for awhile to the country where he might have the leisure for prayer. We know from his Con-fessionsix that at this time he began to pour out his soul to God using the words of the Psalmist. But his corre-spondence with his friend Nebridius reveals that at the same time he was trying to withdraw from the noise of the world to find God in the depths of his soul; that he was, in our terminology, practicing mental prayer. His withdrawal was not a flight into the desert or monastery. He still considered himself and Nebridius as "busy people." The recollection he recommends to Nebridius is a practice made easier by the.solitude and leisure he is enjoying for a time in the country, but it is a practice which he says will be helpfullin the midst of activity. First he tells Nebridius of the advantages of adoring God in the "innermost recesses of the soul." He promises him that this recollection brings with it a "freedom from fear," and "an inner peace which permeates our human activity when we return to activity from our inner shrine." Finally, he tells him: "You, Nebridius, are free 10St. John Damascene, Barlaam and Joasaph, trans. Gr. Wood-ward and H. Mattingly (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1937), p. 295. ~ St. Augustine, Contessions, trans. F. J. Sheed (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), p. 185. + + Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, 1969 Hila~J Smith, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of fear only when you are inwardly recollected." lz From the Very beginning of h.is life as a Christian; St. Augustine shows, an attraction to solitary converse with God. His own prayer and the advice he gives his busy friend Nebri- ~lius furnish an interesting contrast to the prayer for-merly described in convent spiritual 'reading books. There is no question in St. Augustine's mind about re-pe~ iting many vocal prayers or following-some well-or-ganized meditatiOn plan. A few ~ears later, now a priest, St. Augustine con-tinued his exhortations, .encouraging a ~ontemplative approach to prayer, in The Lord's Sermon 'on" the Mount. He comments on Christ's words: "But when you pray, enter into your chambers." The chambers, h~ says, are our hearts.' We must close the door on things without, "all transitory and visible things which through our fleshly senses noise in upon us while we pray." Then there takes place a turning of the heart tO God; and this very effort we make in praying calms the heart, makes it clean and more capable of receiving the divine gifts. He says: "It is not words we should use in dealing with God. but it is the things we carry in our mind and the direction of our thoughts with pure .love and single affection." These ideas, coming as they do early in St. Augustine's life as a Christian, and very much like, in spirit, the teachings of the neo-Platonists on contemplation, may seem more like Platonism than Christianity. In fact, it might be argued that most of the people cited thus far, including St. Teresa, were influenced by.Platonism. It is not within the scope of this paper to discuss the influence of Platonism on Christian mysticism, nor is the question of great practical import. If authorities on prayer have found that they could effectively approach God in a way that resembles the approach of some philosophers to peace or wisdom, then the marvelous thing is not that some Christians are using a pagan philosophy in their prayer, but rather that there is such a universal inclina-tion in human nature to withdraw from the hustIe and bustle of the world from time to time and turn to loftier things. This inclination was recognized by the pagan philosophers and far eastern mystics, but it can find its best realization in a Christian context in which a personal God comes to live intimately with those who are really dedicated to Him. Later in his life, St. Augustine kept hi~ lofty concept of prayer, although, as a result of his struggle with the Pelagians, he seems to make more mention of prayer as petition. He has to explain that no one can receive ~St. Augustine's Letters, trans. Sr. WilIrid Parsons, S.N.D. (New York: 1951), v. 1, p. 157. grace simply by asking for it, but rather we ask because we have been moved by grace. Nevertheless, his classic definition of prayer in the ninth sermon on the Passion shows that he is not limiting the prayer of his congrega-tion to vocal prayer or meditation. He defines prayer as "the affectionate movement of the mind towards God." In the Enarratio in Psalmum 85, we find the idea ex-pressed above by St. Teresa that prayer is converse with God. St. Augustine says: "Your prayer is conversation with God. ~Nhen you read, God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God.'.' As St. Augusdnffbecame more and more imbued with the theology and language of the Bi, ble and more forgetful of Platonism, his thoughts on prayer at6 expressed more in Biblical metaphors than in philosophical abstractions. He had told Nebridius to turn away f(om created things and try to converse with God in the center of his soul. His descriptions of this contemplation of God are not too unlike the instructions of the neoPlatonists on the contemplation of true wisdom. In his later years, St. Augustine continues to instruct Christians on~ the importance of dealing With God through the heart, not just with the lips, of worshiping God in spirit, in truth, not simply in an external way. But now he presents his teaching more in the words of Christ, St. John the Evangelist, the Psalms, and less in the language of Plodnus. He frequently cites Christ's directive about praying in our own chambers, and he explains that the chambers are our hearts,is He quotes Jesus also on not using many words when we pray;14 He likes to point out that the Psalmist who so frequently calls or shouts to God is crying with his heart: " 'You have heard, Lord, the voice of my prayer. You heard when I shouted to you.' This shout to God is made not with the voice but with the heart. Many, with their lips ¯ sil.ent,~ shout with their hearts; others, making a great deal of noise with their mouths, have their hearts turned away and can ask for nothing. If then, you are going to shout, shout from within where God hears." ~ St. Augustine, then, all through his life recommended to his congregations a lofty form of prayer. He did not think it unrealistic to suggest that his people, who Were not cloistered nuns or monks, should strive after a prayerful, contemplative awareness of God's personal presence. Very likely he had achieved a contemplative union with God himself in the midst of his bu~y life and knew that it was possible for others. The modern, harried religious should not feel that his own contemplative aspirations are at all unrealistic. Rather he should see taEnar, in Ps, n. 5; Epis. 130. 14 Sermo 80. 15 Enar. II in Ps. 30, serm. 5. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 28, 1969 9 ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C.D . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS them as an important aspect of the Christian tradition in which he lives. Another great, active Church father with lofty ideas about prayer is St. John Chrysostom. He also defines prayer as a "conversation ~vith God." a6 He explains the first verse of Psalm 140, "Lord I shouted to you and you heard me," as the cry of a deeply prayerful man. The Psalmist here, he says, speaks of "an internal shout, from a heart of fire. He who thus shouts with his heart, turns to God with his whole heart." Always interested in the affective nature of prayer, he makes an important dis-tinction in explaining verse one of Psalm 5: "You hear my shout." The shout, he says, is not "an intonation of the voice but an affection of the mind." 17 To indicate the lofty nature of the kind of prayer he has in mind he says that it is a duty which we have in common with the angels. To pray with the proper rev-erence we must remove ourselves from worldly things and place ourselves in the middle of the choirs of angels. Although St. John Chrysostom has special praise for the life of monks he is anxious that everyone should give themselves to prayer, "both civil servants and private citizens, both men and women, both the elderly and the young, both slaves and freemen." as And he gives special instructions for busy housewives who would like to spend some time in quiet prayer. He reminds them that unlike their husbands "in the middle of the forum or before the tribunal, stirred up by external things as by heavy waves," housewives should be able to sit down for awhile in the privacy of their homes and recollect themselves. In this way they are like those who go out to the desert, bothered by no one: "Thus the housewife, always remaining within, can enjoy a permanent tran-quillity." Obviously St. John Chrysostom had the same notion of a housewife's life as many men today--and his ideas were probably received with the same disdain. But we are not citing John Chrysostom so much for his socio-logical data as for the importance he attaches to a con-templative form of prayer even for housewives. He ex-plains that even if she is forced to go out to Church or to the baths, once she has acquired the habit of recollection she need not be perturbed. What is more, the prayerful, recollected wife will be able to quiet a restless husband and help him forget the worries and cares of the forum.19 If we remember that St. John Chrysostom recommends a certain amount of solitude and prayer for everyone, ~ In Cap. X1 Gen., Horn. 30 n. 5. a7 Exposit. in Psalm. 5, n. 3. rs Homil. encomiast, in S. Meletium, n. 3. a~ In Jo. homil. 61, nn. 3, 4. we can profit from his commentary on Christ's prayer away from the crowds. St. John is not suggesting that everyone flee into a desert, but rather that everyone imi-tate Christ by leaving the noise of society for a little while to be able to pray and thus to return strengthened and fortified. It is thus that St. John explains the words of St. Matthew: "After he had dismissed the crowds he went up into the hills by himself to pray." ~0 "Why did Christ go up into the mountain? That he might teach us how appropriate is the wilderness, is solitude, for calling upon God. He thus frequently sought the wilderness and spent the night there that he might instruct us that we ought to seek out tranquil times and places for prayer." ~x St. John insists that the solitude necessary for prayer is not the physical solitude of the desert. Christians can pray everywhere because "God is always near." We can pray "in the bath [St. John seems especially interested in the possibility of prayer here] on the road, in bed, before the judge." ~ He says that it is not necessary to be rich or a philosopher to pray, but that even manual laborers can pray "as in a monastery: for it is not the comfortable-ness of a place, but an upright life that brings us quiet." ~3 St. John's insistence that everyone can pray everywhere at any time is b:.sed on two principles: First that God is always near to us, actually living in us as in a temple: "The grace of the Holy Spirit makes us temples of God so that it might be easier for us to pray." ~4 Secondly, we can pray always because in prayer, "the mouth makes no sound, while the mind shouts." Religious should understand, then, that aspiring to a more simple, contemplative approach to prayer, even in the midst of a highly active life, is not at all unrealistic. In fact it is more in keeping with the Christian tradition and the aspirations of human nature than the formalized meditations stressed so much in religious houses in the last two or three centuries. It is an approach to God long fostered by some of the most active fathers of the Church and recommended by them to their equally active con-gregations. .-o Mt 14:23. -~ In Mt. homil. 50. m Homil. de Canan., n. 11. ~ Ad llluminand. Cateches., I, n. 4. =4De Anna, serm. IV, n. 6. + 4- Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, ]! VINCENT P. BRANICK, S.M. Formation and Task ÷ ÷ + Vincent P. Bran-ick0 S.I~I., is a mem-ber of the Maria-nist Seminary; Regina Mundi; gri-bourg, Switzerland. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS A dilemma confronts those charged with the forma-tion of religious today. A program of formation which encourages the spontaneity of the religious, one which minimizes regulations and concentrates on personal re-sponsibility seems to be the only valid method of forma-tion today. This is true not only for houses of formation but also for active community life where growth in per-sonal identity and in a way of life must continue. But in such a program of formation severe difficulties of vocation often arise. Self-doubt replaces original enthusiam. Scep-ticism challenges the very viability of religious life. And many leave. I believe these vocation difficulties are neces-sarily connected with this type of formation. In such programs administrators engage and direct the critical spirit of members to the interior structures of the life. Focusing on the life of the individual and the com-munity, this criticism strives to minimize the regulated activities and increase the optional elements of daily life. By allowing a religious to choose for himself the details of his life, the administrators hope both to develop per-sonal autonomy and help the younger member to identify himself fully with the life of the community. Seldom, however, do these great hopes materialize in a more vigorous religious life. In fact where superiors implement these reforms most whole heartedly, the greatest difficulties seem to arise. The critical spirit focuses on the interior structures of the life, and the agonizing questions begin. To what minimum should we limit our regulations? What is the basic concept of re-ligious life from which we can derive these minimum regulations? Can the present superiors be trusted to define religious life as it should be? Can a member rely on anyone but himself to conceive the definition and regulations of the religious life he is to lead? This distrust, self-doubt, and aggression generated by this type of criticism is isolating religious in an extreme individualism and is draining away real enthusiasm. The difficulty, however, is not with the criticism in itself, I believe, as with the notion of regulation implied both in this type of critical questioning and in the defensive at-tempts to answer. The basic difficulty consists in a loss of the practical sense of rule, in attempts to deduce rules from a defined concept of religious life rather than from a practical selection of religious tasks. Without an appreciation of objective task as the coun-terpart of rule, the efforts to criticize and modernize our programs of formation are developing an ex.ag.ger.a.ted self-consciousness. Our great emphasis on minimizing rules and developing autonomy is throwing out of bal-ance the dynamic but delicate dialectic of human life ¯ between self-consciousness and self-forgetfulness in task, between subjectivity and objectivity. "Responsibility," "fulfillment," and "freedom," the key words of today's personalism, pertain to subjective states of an individual, just as "minimum regulation" and "optional time" pertain to the subjective or interior conditions of a community. These terms indicate a re-flection of the subject on himself. As developing from this reflection, they are abstract and formal, belonging to a secondary thematic. As categories of human life they are certainly valid; but when taken out of their relation to a concrete activity in a concrete situation, they are deceiving. When considered outside of this relation, these terms appear very precise in. idealistic simplicity. They are ideals and in their simplicity, they evoke a radical response, a response that is immediate and totally absorbing. Men die for freedom. Priests leave their Church for fulfillment. But when these categories are not separated from their context in life, their simplicity is lessened by the com-plexity of daily business. Their radicalness is tempered by respect for the values of concrete situations. The re-sponse to these ideals can still be radical and totally ab-sorbing, but in a way that is more realistic, persevering, and in the end more effective. The objective and concrete counterpart of these sub-jective and reflex categories is task. Task is the creation of values that can be shared, values not simply of an individual subject but of a public world, where many can partake. Yet, task is more than a man's material work. It includes also his duty to worship God, his duty to be thoughtful and thankful of truth and beauty, because such duties are eminently public, even when accom-plished in silence. Task is the outward going service of that which is not self. By emphasizing task as the necessary correlative of subjectivity, we respect the nature of the human subject. Man is no't an enclosed container but an outward thrust to another. Human subjectivity is basically intention-ality. The self becomes self in becoming other. Here we 4. ÷ Formation and Ta~k VOLUME 28, 1969 + ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 14 have the fundam.ental human paradox--a man finds himself through his interest in another, a man achieves personal autonomy by binding himself in love of the other, a man can reflecton ideals only when engaged in tasks. Only the altruistic love of a task can preserve and intensify personal autonomy in the unavoidable restric-tions imposed by daily choices. Choosing some goal or some means to a goal always restricts and limits, whether a person simply accepts, another's choice or whether he chooses for himself. A decision always ex-cludes a multitude of alternatives. But a person who loves his task in no way loses autonomy by this restriction. In his love he concentrates himself in the positive core of his decision, locating his life in the values he wants to accomplish. Without that love he remains scattered over all the alternatives so that the restriction of the al-ternatives becomes a restriction of self. For example, one who loves the task of community prayer can accept the restrictions of a community schedule. One who loves his task of witnessing to eschatological values can accept disengagements from some elements of the commerce of civilization. In these loves a person seeks the fulfillment of what is not himself, and by so doing he develops in and through the unavoidable limitations. Fulfillment by love of task is such a common occur-rence that we tend to overlook it. We find it in the suc-cessful professional man, in the loving parents of a fam-ily, in the dedicated missionary. Conversely, we are struck by the lack of autonomy in the person concen-trating on his own stature in a type of adolescent self-consciousness. The person concentrating directly on achieving his autoflomy is the person least capable of finding it. By centering his attention on himself he can-not maintain the intensity of his normal thrust to the outside without which he cannot live as a mature free man. The man without a task is a tragic figure. The soul searching into which he is forced only aggravates the loss of identity he suffers. He is caught in a closed circle until another comes to him and appeals for his cooperation. In our present appreciation of personalism, the notion of task has faded from importance. Task appears as an impersonal category, something to do rather than some-one to relate to. But in no way are task and person op-posed. Rather the two notions are inseparable in the understanding of human relations. A task has signifi-cance only in view of the person who will benefit from it. And relating to a person implies concrete action that is more than purely symbolic gesture. To limit our cor-poral activities in interpersonal dynamics to mere signs of interior attitudes is to attempt an angelic community and to end up in a gross sentimentalism. Our interper-sonal relations are not simply encounters between spirits. Human community demands the creation of values through corporal work as a medium of com-munication. Task as an impersonal category is an in-dispensable presupposition for a truly human person-alism. A human community receives its unity and its identity from its common tasks. No community can exist on its own substance. A community which concentrates only on interior community life will never attain the well being of its members. The cohesion and dynamism of a com-munity results from a common advancement toward a goal which transcends the community. The convergence of the members with each other results from the con-vergence of all the members on a common goal. In selfless striving for this goal, the members find them-selves united. Their mutual confidence rests on the con-fidence each has that the other' is striving for the com-munity goal, or at least is not surreptitiously seeking his personal advantage to the detriment of that goal. Dis-unities are constructive only if they occur in the context of a greater dynamic unity. If the members agree on their general task, their different ways of conceiving the specific work enter into a productive dialectic. Even adamant differences about the means to accomplish a task are not divisive in the context of agreement about the end. But where members disagree on the basic task of the community, where they dispute the primary pur-pose of themselves as a group, there can be no dynamic coherence. No amount of dedication of the members to each other as individuals can supply for this lack of dedication to a common task. No matter how much the members love each other as persons, they cannot function together. In such a group, accord can exist only by agree-ment not to work together. That is, accord can exist be-tween individuals, but not between members of a func-tioning community. After saying all this about the dependence of the in-dividual and. communitarian subject on its tasks, we cannot stop here without risking a onesided distortion. All I have said is open to the totalitarian interpretation that individuals and communities should uncritically accept and dedicate themselves to tasks handed to them from the past. This is not true. A continuation of the analysis of the relation between self and task indicates why this is not true. Our objective tasks are not fully intelligible in and by themselves. These tasks depend on the subject just as the subject depends on the tasks. Every task presupposes a certain readiness in the subject. Ira man is not ready to meet objective realities by a Formation and Task VOLUME 2B, 1969 15 V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS certain sensitivity or openness to them, he will never recognize them when he comes across them. And with-out this recognition the objective task can never exist. An educational task exists only for an educated person. A religious task exists only for a religious person. Only by knowing his own religious demensions can a person articulate and thereby give reality to an objective reli-gious task. Besides depending on a subject's recognition, a task also depends for its existence on a subject's freedom in accepting or rejecting it. A task exists only as someone's task, and only in a person's free decision can a task be-come his. The automaton cannot create a task for itself because it cannot freely identify its good with the accom-plishment of the task. A free decision is thus necessary for the existence of a task, and such a free decision pre-supposes a subject who has already achieved.a degree of selfhood or autonomy. This dependence of the object on the subject holds also for communitarian dynamics. The recognition and free acceptance or rejection by a community of its task presupposes a level of coherence and self-understanding already .existing in that community. A task could never draw a group if the group could not direct itself through a group decision. We seem to have an unbreakable circle here. The autonomy of the subject presupposes a thrust toward its objective task, but this thrust presupposes the au-tonomy of the subject. In reality this mutual dependence exists more as a dialectic or oscillation between self and task, by which the subject grows in maturity and his work grows in precision and importance with each turning of the self to his task and from task to self. At the beginning of this dialectic lies, on the one hand, the basic openness of the human spirit, and, on the other, the original call of reality which can only be the direct appeal of God Himself. Task, as this dialectic reveals, has a role in human life which is at once relative and absolute. Any given task will be relative because it depends on the subject who can therefore criticize and change it. This dependence of the task on the recognition and decision of the subject refutes a totalitarian submission of the person to his work. The autonomy which the task confers on the subject is the autonomy l~y which he can dominate the task. But because this autonomy is indissolubly linked with task as such, task is absolutely indispensable to human existence. We cannot change or criticize our need to work as such. And this absolute need to give ourselves to task is present in a concrete way in any given task no matter how temporary or contingent it is. In all its provisional and contingent character, the task at hand remains the source of dynamism for the human dialectic of growth. In fact, the mature development of task requires a very delicate balance between self-reflection and outward-going service, between critical detachment and dedicated engagement, between autonomy and abnegation. Today in many areas of religious life, I believe, we have upset this delicate balance. The sudden wave of self-criticism which religious life has undergone has over-weighted the subjective pole of the dialectical balance. Individuals and communities have almost locked their sights on themselves in a direct concentration on their subjective fulfillment. The surging experience of the need to criticize and modernize the communitarian tasks is failing to issue into a more intense outward dedica-tion. This need to criticize and modify tasks has resulted primarily from the advances of Christian theology in the last twenty years, advances which in a way climaxed and received great publication in the Second Vatican Council. Modern theological insights showed the great horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, the great variety of ways in which Christianity can be :lived. The former theologies. tended to picture Christian life in a rather narrow ver-tical plane which allowed variety only in terms of hier-archic positions. The various tasks of Christian life dif-fered from each other because some were more perfect than others. This gave an absolute character to de-cisions in the selection of concrete tasks. In this narrow but precise view of Christian life, the various tasks of religious orders--their ways of prayer, their apostolic works, their degree of cloister--all seemed direct deduc-tions from the gospel following necessarily from a totally unlimited acceptance of Christianity. By showing the horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, modern theology has changed this view. We can now see many ways of acting and working as Christians, each way with a dignity proper to itself, a dignity that is not simply a limited edition of that belonging to a more perfect task. Modern theology has not depreciated the basic tasks traditional to religious life; but it has rela-tivized them by presenting them in the context of other tasks, thus showing that the acceptance of a task results more from contingent decisions than from absolute de-ductions. There are pressing needs for so many tasks that no necessity binds a community or an individual to one or the other. Seeing for the first time the contingent and provisional character of their tasks, many communities and individ-uals are experiencing a real crisis of identity. The tra-ditional tasks on which they built their identity seem 4- ÷ 4. Formation and Task VOLUME 28, 1969 ]7 ÷ ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]8 to have been depreciated because they have been rela-tivized. For people who tend to think always in ab-solute categories, this relativization of traditional com-munitarian tasks is anguishing. Many religiou.s have become worried about their fulfillment and autonomy through such tasks. This worry often leads to a search to reabsolutize the community tasks, finding a modern task that is the task of the Church today. Although opening new possibilities and purging re-ligious life of obsolete structures, this intense concern about personal antonomy and this criticism of all tasks at hand is impeding the turning outward toward work in self-dedication. By fixing attention on tile subject, this critical self-consciousness is obstructing the oscillation between selfhood and task and in this way is diminishing the general vitality of religious life. Houses of formation are especially susceptible to this loss of vitality becanse it is there that the dialectic be-tween religious identity and religious task must begin. Equipped with neither the subjective identity of a re-ligious congregation nor an understanding involvement in its present tasks, candidates arrive usually with simply a willingness to enter. At this moment of entrance only a vivid presentation of tasks can engender enthusiasm, a presentation of tasks which the person sees worthy of his dedication. Concentrating on such tasks a young religious will gradually develop a self-possession in the style of the congregation that will make him fully responsible for its works, that will allow him to live without thought of external pressure, that will enable him to criticize and modify his tasks. But if on entering religious life or during the years of formation, he sees in the administrators a paralyzing hesitation regarding tile most basic tasks, if his program of formation turns his attention constantly back to him-self in questions of autonomy, fulfillment, and minimali-zation of rules, the dialectic of growth can hardly begin to operate. There is certainly no facile answer to the problem of developing religious enthusiam in a time when all tasks of religious life are being revaluated. We cannot simply ignore the severe doubts that do in fact exist in the minds of administrators. But the present hesitation to present concrete tasks to religious is serionsly hampering the possibility for formation. A rehabilitation of religious task must take place on two levels. The first level is that of the Church as a whole. On this level we can recognize a permanence and uni-versality of tasks. In the life of the Church there is a permanent need for some people to pray in a way that disengages them from personal participation in the eco- nomics and politics of our world, just as there is a per-manent need for others to ~ray in a way that involves them person.ally in economic and political progress. These needs derive from the very nature of Christianity. On this universal level we can articulate a theology that shows the beauty and depth both of the traditional and. o~ the new tasks of the Church. Such 'a theology of the functions of the Church can present these tasks in such clarity that they engender enthusiasm and initiate self-dedication. The second level is that of the particular congrega-tion. On this level we must learn to understand the co,,n~tin, gent and limited nature 'of the congregation'~ en-traiace into the universal work'of the Church. From the expansive range of ecclesial tasks, each with its own theology and permanence, a" congregation must decide on specific tasks to assume. This decision is necessarily contingent on historidal and p~rs~nal ,circumstances, but this contingency need not prevent an intense adherence~ to the tasks. The decision by a congregation will be based on its continge~tt capabilities, as a result of a his-tory of insights and ~pecializatiops, but in that decision a congregation enters into theuniversal dimensions evangelization. A chosen task may not be the most cen-tial, the most perfect possible task of the Church today, but by accepting it with its limi(ations, a religious con-gregation can take its part in the whole work of the Church in all its depth and beauty. The only alternative' to this is a perfectionist idealism that paralyzes all forts. Although in the actual appropriation of a task the two levels blend together, each operates according'to its own rules. The first level is theological and universal; the second, historical and contingent. Formation to task takes place on both levels. It educates to a vivid aware-ness of the universal tasks of the Church and to an ac-ceptance of the contingent communitarian decisions by which a society shares in these tasks. By focusing attention on the fulfillment and spon-taneity of the individual, many programs of formation today run contrary to the needs of both levels. The tasks of the Church are being obscured. Relieving the anguish-ing needs of the people of the world, bringing all men to an intimate knowledge and love of Christ, worshiping God as a community~these tasks of the Church are being displaced by concern for personal development. At the same time, the emphasis on minimizing rules and foster-ing spontaneity is blurring the need to accept the con-tingent communitarian decision of a task and the struc-ture of authority that makes the communitarian decision possible. Certainly we should be pruning away obsolete Formation and Task 19 rules, rules which are no longer associated with a task. But the effort simply to minimize rules for its own sake is equivalent to the effort to minimize community tasks. For a religious dedicated to the community work, the minimization of rules is not a burning issue. The dis-tinction between what is regulated and what is optional is of secondary importance. Rules appear as means of coordinating community effort, as expressions of what the community expectsof an individual, how he can contribute to the community functions. Since contribu-tions to the community functions may vary in a contin-uous range, from indispensable activities to actions which have little relation to the community work, the categories of "regulated" and "optional" are simply in-adequate to divide the day. Endless discussions about the precise limits of regulations indicate that the ques-tion of task has not yet been resolved. Formation must begin and end with mission, a selec-tion and a confiding of tasks, an education of people to the realities of these tasks that evokes their love for the good to be accomplished through these tasks. Trying to educate people to self-direction without at the same time giving them tasks will always tend to a loss of self-giving. Educating people to love and know tasks, allowing the tasks to draw people will inevitably result in a develop-ment of responsibility and self-confidence. The dynamism of task is the only atmosphere conducive to human autonomy. ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 20 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Religious Life in a Secularized.Age Vatican Council II, in its decree on The Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life, analyzed our renewal as a twofold process and laid down two generic principles for the pursuit of that renewal.1 The first principle takes us historically backward, the second forward. The first principle is a continuous return to the gospel of Christ as a basic norm of the religious life, and the second is an adjustment or adaptation to the physical, psychological, cultural, social, and economic conditions of our day. But at this point already one should ask the question: Is not religious life caught in a false dilemma when it at-tempts to return and renew itself at one and the same time? 2 How can it move backward and forward simul-taneously? Is it possible for religious to draw their in-spiration from the gospel as well as adjust themselves within the context of a secularized age? The decree underscores the return to the gospel ideal first of all; this is why a concerted and communal effort is to be made to catch anew the gospel inspiration as a rule of life and conduct. Yet the gospel presents reli-gious with no stereotype of their life that is always and everywhere valid and that they can turn to when-ever they find themselves in religious straits. In order to re-evangelize we have to ask questions of the Bible out of our own concrete, contemporary life, because the religious life experience of 1969 presents us with prob-lems. The problems are compounded because we have till now developed only the embryo of a new style of life which shows very indistinct features of further growth. XN. 2. "E. Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld in conflict met her religieuze leven," Ti]dschri]t voor theologie, v. 7 (1967), pp. 1-27. I have followed to a large extent the development of ideas in this article. See also Soeur Guillemin, "Renovation de l'espHt et des structures," Vie consacrde, v. 38 (1966), pp. 360-73; she covers much of the same ground from a more practical point of view. Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C., is a faculty member of Crosier House of Studies at 2620 East Wallen Roadi Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. VOI'UME 28, 1969 - ~oseph Fichtner, O~.C. REVIEW F.OR.RELIGIOUS We are asking questions, therefore, which the past Christian generations could not have asked since they did not live in a secularized age. The gospel cannot reply to questions not put to it; nor does it await questions from us which were already put to it by generations past.,'It is inconceivable that we should inquire .intb the Sc'riptures from the same van-tage point, say, as Sts. Jerome and Augustine had to do for .their respective communities whose members did not take vows but simply pledged themselves to persevere in their religious purpose. The medieval monks interpreted the Bible in a much different way than we can, and they tended to encapsulate the religious life into a profession of the three vows, a notion retained by canon law in its definition of the religious state.3 The former tendency was to regard the religious experience as a form more or less of flight 'from the world, of self-denial; renunciation, the exclusive service of God. We must strenuously reject the identification of the evangelical community life with the fo~ms it has taken in a given period and locale. Perhaps~- though you will have to judge this for yourselves--the change with the times and places is harder for the woman religious because of her naturally (and in other respects advantageously) conservative spirit. The past.historical ~onception of religious life hardly coincides with the demands made upon'human life by a secularized society.4 If we are to research the gospel for goals and guides to present,day religious .life, then we will have to approach it with an open mind, not with the m~ntality of our forebears, founders or foundresses, most of whom lived in a pretechni.cal, preindustrial, pre-democratic age. We may e~,en, have to rephrase our. ques-tions once. we listen to the cadences of God's word. The gospel may. echo. to us the question whether we have been tuned in to the secularization process critically, whether our life context offers any guarantee of human values. The times we live in, with their alternate possibilities of. good~, and evil, do not simply call for an unqualified adaptation. .-Hence what the decree aims atis that religious.evaluate their world in the light of the gospel. Some kind of eval-uation has already.been done for the Church at large in the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World; here the world is seen from a threefold view-point-- as created, as fallen and sinful, and as loved and redeemed.5 Religious life itself has to be reinterpreted 8 C. 487. ' ]. Bonnefoy, A.A., "Presence au monde ~an.s une vie religieuse," Vie consacr~e, v. 39 (1967), pp. 353-67. ; . ~ 8 E. Pin, $.J., "Les insfituts religieux apostoliques et le ~hang~- ment ~ocio-cultuel," Nouvelle revue thgologique, v. 87 .(1965), pp. 395-411. by means of a confrontation between the two, gospel and world. Without such a confrontation, the attempt either to re-evangelize or to adapt is empty and meaning-less; it is sold short by too much evangelization on the one hand and too much humanization on the other. The only way to arrive at a confrontation of the two is to examine human experience today in the light of the gospel and to understand the gospel from the viewpoint of contemporary human experience. Man today looks upon the natural world as the raw material out of which he can create his own world. The supremacy he feels over the things of the world is chang-ing his view of himself too as part of this world. Through his own scientific work he finds himself able to live a more human life; by humanizing the world round about himself he is discovering more human values. One of the values that he has freshly uncovered and that have prompted him to make the world more hu-manly livable is his freedom. Freely and creatively he would carve out of the world a home where the human community can exist in justice and love. He is filled with an indomitable desire to build a better world where men can live together in the solidarity of justice and love. But the humanization of the world by means of science and technology has also created, by way of a byproduct, the danger for man to render this world uninhabitable. The Great Society has been so organized by man that it has well nigh done away with other human opportunities such as the contemplative side of life offers him. He is forced almost to flee from the world in order to have the time and place for that contemplation which does not only regard the things of God but respects the dignity otr his fellowmen. Man risks the danger of treating his fellowmen as things and of overpowering them, of using and abusing them as he would the things of nature. If he loses his respect for his fellowman, he is liable to manip-ulate him, exploit him, and usurp his rights to human achievement.6 Of all the human qualities young people wish for themselves and expect of others the most out-standing are personal right, authenticity, trust, under-standing, loyalty, and honesty. They reject any and every sort of depersonalization. Man can so dominate the world socially, economically, and politically, that he runs roughshod over his fellowman. So the same scientific and technological progress can be both a boon and a threat to a more human existence, depending upon the use to which man puts it for his fellowman. The whoIe secuIarization process that has fallen into human hands has affected man's stance toward religion, 6S6eur Marie-Edmond, "Qu'attendent les jeunes filles de la vie rcligicuse communautairc?" Vie consacrde, v. 39 (1967), pp. 40-50. + Religious LiIe, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 23 ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtn~r, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS though primarily it is a social event that of itself need not lead to any irreligiosity. It does, however, set man upon the pinnacle of the temple of this world; it puts him into a relationship with the world which he never yet experienced. This change of relationship and his own understanding of it is bound to alter his view of God. While formerly the Church was the means of bringing his attention to God as He operated in nature, history, and society, now that man has asserted his creative power over the world, he has at the same time contrib-uted to its desacralization. God would seem to be left out; man comes to the fore. As a result the conclusion we can easily reach is that secularization and desacralization are pagan, heathen, or anti-religious. But the fact of the matter is that this proc-ess has both Christian and non-Christian elements and hence cannot be accept.ed unqualifiedly or uncritically. If anything shakes the younger generation, it is their fear for the destiny of a world so insecure in its secular struc-tures. To give the secularized world its due, we must ac-knowledge it with faith as God's creation to which he gave an autonomy and secularity. Our belief in His act of creation implies that the world be left wholly other than God---creaturely, human, worldly. 0nly if we recog-nize the world for what it is can we catch some insight into who God is, as Someone unworldly, transcendent, uncreated. The more we tend to sacralize the world, the less transcendence do we attribute to God and the less likely are we to worship Him alone. Acceptance of the world and everything worldly from a divine point of view means setting the world free for man; to secularize it is to allow it freedom, a created autonomy. In a sense, then, the secularization process follows from Christianity itself as a consequence of its refusal to commingle, confuse, or fuse God with the world. Chris-tianity has no intention of divinizing or Christianizing or baptizing the world from within, but rather of keeping the world humanized through the retention of its essen-tially human values. Christian secularity is precisely this, that Christians in a spirit of faith discern the dif-ference between the concrete Christian and the pagan elements which make up the world and allow it to be itself. Grace makes it possible for Christians to prepare for Christianization, that is, to secularize and humanize the world by means of a faith outlook. The Gospel does not sterilize the heart of man, emptying it of an appre-ciation of all earthly and human values; rather it opens to him the same full human perspective which Christ had in assuming and recapitulating humanity. Sin alone dims or eclipses the possibility of that perspective. This is the kind of world, its history and culture, in which we must situate the religious life, and this is the same world in which we can ask the appropriate ques-tions of the gospel for the inspiration of the religious life experience. A false understanding of the world will in-evitably lead to a series of false questions. It will incline the religious to view nature, the world, man, negatively, and argue for a flight from the world. The old concept of God.has undergone a change along with the old concept of the world. But the death-of-God theology has evidently failed to come up with a new con-cept of God. In the. past Christianity was always con-vinced that God is inaccessible and ineffable. Faced with the radical inability to express themselves about God or present him to their fellow Christians, theologians and mystics resorted to an apophatic or negative theol-ogy. They admitted to knowing less about who God is not than about who He is. Oftentimes God was popularly conceived as one who intervened in the world; such repre-sentations of Him in the ordinary theological manuals reflected the social and cultural milieu. The experience of faith in God was colored by the social and cultural context necessarily, but 'this did not render it less authen-tic than the experience of faith in our own cultural situation. 'If our era is less sure of and less concrete in its con-cepts of God, it is because we have turned God into a big question mark and into a popular conversation piece. Perhaps there has been more conversation about Him since his "death" than there ever was while He was still considered "alive." We would like to unmask all the former illusions about God and do away with all the pseudo-gods of the past, but in getting rid of all such idols we have not clarified or facilitated the making of God in our own image. By raising the problem of God in our own day, we are likely to forget our own human condition which threatens to falsify the truth about God. In searching for Him we run the risk of creating other idols .than those we just finished demolishing. One of our approaches to God which hides some of His reality for us and which we may be guilty of in the religious life is to think that we can dedicate our-selves to him directly and exclusively. This approach may be devoid of any real, concrete content, a sort of chase into empty space, a flight after some utopian ideal. The only way remaining for us to express ourselves about Him has to derive from our experience within this world and within this era of salvation history. God speaks to us through men, their world and history; this is the hearing aid by which we can listen to His voice. There r.eally is no opposition between God's word in Holy 4- Religious Lile, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fi~htner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Scripture and the authentic religious life experience of today, for the Scriptures provide us the norm whereby we can be faithful listeners to His word as it appeals to us in today's life experience. The latter feeds our under-standing of God, concretizes it, and gives content to our belief in God. To overlook this fact is to retrace our steps to the days when Christians felt it their duty to separate or alienate themselves from the world. We have no criticism to offer of their religious posture, be-cause it had meaning for them, but it leaves us without a real living God. Today we have the idea that to try to approach God directly and exclusively, without any worldly and human medium, is an unchristian illusion. We are inclined, if not theoretically then practically,, to distinguish between a Christian and a pagan secularity. We believe we come in contact with the living God in and through and with our fellowmen. This does not mean that as Christians we do not respond to God immediately and personally, but that our relationship with Him is real and concrete be-cause mediated through worldly and human realities. Christ experienced the immediacy of God's presence in Himself, in and through His humanity. He willed to be-come God in human form. In like manner we encounter God in the immediacy and mediacy of that image and likeness of Him which is man. What is immediate and what is mediate are not mutually exclusive but are linked together in our relationship to God. Against this modern background the religious life must examine the Scriptures to seek the solutions for the problems facing it. Sacred Scripture contains a number of evangelical counsels that simply are irreducible to the three classic vows the medieval monks or nuns pronounced. In fact, the gospel refers to only one counsel,7 one which was not expressly imposed or urged upon the early Christians.s It teaches that the perfection of love is attainable by all Christians, whatever their state of life, without their having to keep the counsel of celibacy.'° All Christians are called to an observance of the commandments and the other evangelical counsels in order to attain the per-fection of love. The one counsel alone is left to the free choice of every Christian and is the evangelical source from which the religious life has grown. Essen-tially, therefore, the religious life is a freely willed Chris-tian celibate life. This life is lived mostly in a community because few people freely will to live it in solitude.~0 7 Mt 19:10-2. s 1 Cor 7:25. ~ 1 Cor 13. ao Soeur Marie-Edmond, "Qu-attendcnt les jeunes filles?" The personal choice of this style of life is motivated by the gospel and makes sense fo~ alifetime only in virtue of the same~ The force of this motive is borne upon those young people who because of the instability and.change-ability of our age fear giving themselves to any style of life demanding continuity and stability. One who is will-ing to spend his entire life ~s a Christian celibate does.so because he is sensitive to the grace of 'God .cifll'ing. him in thegospel. He feels himself responsible to" God-who so strongly affects him that He becomes the source"of his religious life. But ~he particular form or structure of the religious life inspired by the gospel is ~as such a human project and a human construct. The whole human side of this life has developed in the course of history and is bound up with its vicissitudes. It,has t6 face the challenge of changing customs and cultures in older to survive arid renew itself. .We misunderstand the gospel message if.we base bur choice of a celibate life on a gupernatural motive alon~, as if we conceive the delibate life as a ctfoice between the natural good of marriage and .the supernatural good.of celibacy.11 Dedication of a celibat~ life to God has both immediate and mediate aspects about it, just a~ marriage itself. A couple united in Christian man'iage have an immediate duty toward God though they may mediate their love for Him through each other and thdy mayex-periefice tension and conflict in a way similar to what religious feel when they try to mediate their love for God through the world' and their fellowmen. The reli-gious life therefore has no immediate relationship to God without a worldly and human mediacy. Sometimes the immediacy of the religious life is more apparent, .'for instance, when religious live and work in community~ pray, celebrate the liturgy; at other times, in the apos-tolate, the mediacy of such a life comes into starker relief. Christian ~elibacy has also a human meaning, a natural value aside from its supernatural value, for otherwise, no matter how religiously or supernaturall~? motivated it is, it will somehow be left hanging in the air. Essen-tially it does not consist in a.chgice between God and 'a life partner; rather it is a positive choice of aw~y k)f life having natural and human meaning for those who have the iniier ability to embrace, it. Their choice, when you analyze it thoroughly, does not come down to one be-tween God and creature or between God and the world of man, but it is one which springs from the wholenes~ of his being. Celibacy of its nature permits the celibate to concen- ~ Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld," p. 12. 4- +- +. Religious Ei~e, - Seculhri~ed Age VOL'U~E 2~, 4" 4" 4" Joseph FichOtn.Se.rC, . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS trate upon a certain life value and to dedicate to it his entire life. He freely accepts celibacy because he is con-vinced this is the only way, special as it may be, for him to be totally expendable. The value he has discovered within himself so fascinates him that he is willing to remain unmarried to achieve it; he places himself at its service; he considers it a part of an authentic life. Christian celibacy, moreover, adds to the natural value a religious, charismatic value, especially if men and women would concentrate their whole life upon its value because they would be witnesses to the world of their conviction. Within the Church their witness to the value of celibacy is a more easily and understood sign. It is seen to be a means some men and women take for the sake of the kingdom of God. Religious give to the world an irreplaceable witness of a supratemporal element alive and at work in it. In a sense they transcend history, manifesting a supernatural value and significance--point-ers to a life beyond the present. The better they can serve mankind in this way of life, the better they are able to serve the God who founded His kingdom among men. Religious men and women will show to the world the. authenticity of their life only if they commit them-selves totally to it, convinced that their expendability makes their style of life worthwhile. Others may sacrifice marriage for the sake of a tem-poral career--scientific, social, political, cultural; but Christian celibacy on the contrary entails sacrifice for the sake of a religious value. In both instances there is a sacrifice of a human value, but in the latter a trans-cendence of the religious self becomes evident. The sacrifice points to a transcendence--men and women are willing to give up marriage not for some secular good but because they want to give evidence of the religious dimension of life.x2 The religious sign value of celibacy too easily fades out or is lost among those who engage solely in a secular career, good and beneficial to society as it may be. More than ever in the past religious must be a sign of the transcendence of God in the midst of a secularized world, even when at times this sign may appear to be nothing else than a protest against a world gone pagan. They give eschatological witness of a life that overcomes the temporality of this worldAa Christian celibacy has essentially a close affinity to the other evangelical counsels, poverty and obedience, in that they too contain positive human and religious values. Heretofore the general tendency has been to re-gard the counsels or vows too negatively and isolatedly. = Karl Rahner, "Reflections on the Theology of Renunciation," Theological Investigations, v. 3, pp. 47-57. 18 Lk 20:34-7. When a problem arises, we are prone to isolate it and to forget it may have far-reaching and entangled roots (the race problem provides a good example in those who advocate job opportunity for a cure-all). Perhaps we lose sight of that unity of purpose which brings all counsels together--the following of Christ in His kenotic life; and especially the unity of the person living a trinity of counsels. Like Christian celibacy, poverty and obedience are questionable because in our time and culture they seem to lack any positive value. Today's trend is to stress the need of getting rid of poverty and of accentuating free-dom, and thus to outdate them. The question then arises how are we religious to retain the positive, human values of the two at a time when they are considered caricatures or illusions of reality. For example, how are we to evaluate poverty in a society characterized by mass production, mass consumption, white-collar work, a so-ciety preferring to poverty a prosperity that promotes health, welfare, and education programs, and leisure? Religious poverty makes sense only if it is in keeping with the real poverty existing among peoples today. Its inherent demand is that we live on a similar basis with the poor and at the same time, precisely because we have pledged ourselves to be poor, join in the effort to better the lot of the poor. Religious poverty must square with the economical situation of society and must take into account the level or standard of living. Young reli-gious are filled with a sense of sha~'ing rather than econ-omizing (as formerly) material, intellectual, and cultural goods--a spirit more current with the times. A balance has to be struck between the means and the end of the religious institute which, in any case, will require a special moderation in food, clothing, recreation, and a determination to earn a communal living by hard work. In addition, various kinds of social work performed by religious may lend themselves to social progress. Religious community life can no longer model its authority upon the medieval feudal system. Religious authority that appeals for obedience in the name of God's will is old-fashioned; it dates back to that old era of the divine right of kings. It leads to a confused idea that superiors must reign and their opinion must prevail under the pretext of deriving their authority from God. On the other hand, wherever like-minded people are ¯ gathered into a community, however much they may be motivated by love, they will still have to hold to the inte-grating factors of authority and obedience. Faithful re-ligious do oblige themselves to observe the will of God. Such a spirit of obedience is all the more sensible when Religious Li]e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 ÷ ,÷ ÷ Joseph FicOht~n.Cer., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯30 it believes God speaks His will not only through the superior but within a life situation, within a community living together with love, friendship, dialogue, for the common good, and from within one's Own conscience. This type of obedience is not a blind following of the .superior's will rather arbitrarily determined or unex-plained, nor the keeping of meaningless, minute, mean commands, a routinized life without any commands at all, a perfunctory performance of duty without any pro-fessional competence, but an open-eyed observance of God's will as it is made known within an entire life situa-tion. The American practice of obedience functions best in an equalitarian atmosphere; Americans will not tol-erate supremacists in their midst; they are. used to bu-reaucratic (in the good sense of the word), consultative government. The religious life then consists not first and foremost in a negation, the exclusion of positive human and religious values, but in a special Christian, meaningful way of life. This life does entail the sacrifice of such values as wealth, marriage, independence which most Christians freely choose and cordially treasure. By the mere mention of the words "sacrifice" or "renunciation, we are likely to turn off people who think such practices .dwarf the human personality or stifle its spirit.14 Renun-ciations, however, are emphatically no evasion or escape f.r.om the world. The paradoxical fact about them is that they detach us to some degree from the world so as to allow fuller involvement in other ways.15 Religious do not directly choose to sacrifice earthly and human values, but they do choose a Christian way of life full of other and superior values accepted in a spirit of faith, hope, and love. Tertullian once re-marked: "Every choice implies a rejection." ~0 In choos-ing a kenotic way of lift Christ did not sacrifice human values m~rely for the sake of supernatural values; His prefere, nce was for a way of life out of various, meaning-ful messianic possibilities. Among other things His was a predilection for a celibate life because it left him free to establish the kingdom of His Father.17 Religious likewise are inclined toward a style of life which does not drive them from the world but enables them to orient their life, energy, and competence toward the world's future. Theirwhole thrust is to take the world with them to God, and this is the reason for their willingness to accept sacrifice or renunciation along with that a4 Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, n. 41; Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, n. 46. ~ K. Rahner, "Reflections." 16 Apology, 13, 2. ~"~ Lk 9:23. faithful and unconditional service they would give to God and their fellowmen. The loving service they offer concretizes that self-emptying which contradicts an egotistic spirit. The love they dedicate to God and to the world of men expressly calls for self-criticism, sacrifice, and self-emptying. If there is any emerging feature of the new-style religious life it is the conviction of its' mem-bers that they have to be present in and open to the world. The fact that the religious life is a matter of lifelong choice makes it difficult for people of our times to recog-nize its value and meaning. They are quite well con-vinced, and rightly so, that man is so built as to be un-able to appreciate the unknown dimensions of a human act binding him for a lifetime. Human psychology is so complex that for one to make such a binding decision wonld oftentimes be irresponsible, lighthearted, an act tmcharacteristic of the human will. This attitude is exemplified not only in the modern outlook upon the religious life but upon marriage too. Can man morally commit himself to an obligation that, humanly speak-ing, seems to be contradictory to his very nature? No matter how free and knowledgeable his act may be today, he cannot foresee tomorrow--he may react differently to his choice once he is put into hard circumstances where he is likely to experience his failings. To validate and give meaning to his decision, his only alternative is to entrust himself to Christian hope. That this modern mentality has a glint of truth about it, there can be no doubt. But there are values which for the moment we cannot, certainly not [ully, appreciate or approve, which nonetheless surpass the momentary situation and are imperative for the integrity of man. They have an enduring value; they hold good in any and every situation (with some exceptions) which man has to abide by if he is to be true to his own nature. In the matter of the counsels and their public pro-fession, the vows, we are dealing with a choice that in the first place is not ethically binding, it is not necessary, it is not a matter of commandment. So why should anyone be obligated to keep his choice for a lifetime if he has freely willed it in the first place? Man has an intrinsic right to freely change his mind, to decide tomorrow against his decision today. But this human vacillation is obviously giving the world much trouble. The value of following the counsels for a lifetime lies not in a freedom of choice alone but in the free and faithful acceptance of a way of life. It evidences how a religious finds it pos-sible and meaningful to dedicate himself for life despite his failings and mistakes; he accepts a lifetime of service. Fidelity too, and not only freedom, is a basic human + Religious Lile Secularized VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS quality, .substantiated by both the nature of man and his history. The will-to-fidelity must have meaning therefore; it is not a mere will-o'-the-wisp; it is the expression of the human self once and for always. Despite the fact that man can point to the vicissitudes of history and to the uncertainty of the future, that he can personally leave himself open to various possibilities for the sake of ex-periment, to see how he reacts to them in the process of maturing, still his human limitations tell him that he cannot experiment or vacillate in his decisions forever. His human limitations force him to make that decision to which he can devote the totality of his life. This is what psychologists have called the "fundamental op-tion," which has its correlative reality in a fidelity to grace and is motivated by a single love, the following of Christ. The fidelity, and integrity of a life of the counsels springs from our efforts, gradual and constant, to per-sonalize them, unify them, liberate ourselves thereby from the selfish impulses which may dominate our lives. Fidelity and integrity are ours to the extent that the counsels permeate us; taken together they add up to a complete style of life. I dare say one reason for religious discontent stems from the failure to bring the three counsels within the focus of the one fundamental option. The saying, "Divide and conquer," applies here: the more divided and disrupted a life, the greater the loss of personal energy and the less resistance to difficulties.18 To be a full man is to be faithful to the true self. It is by totally giving that each of us becomes totally him-self. The full Christian is one who gives a faithful re-sponse to that divine fidelity which never fails him unless he proves faithless to himself. The basic human reason for the inviolability of the religious life is the fundamental option, and not the pub-lic vow from which the religious can be dispensed. The religious who opts for the celibate life is a living em-bodiment of the counsels, particularly celibacy; they do not exist in the abstract or in vows or in constitutions. In making a lifelong choice man wants to be true to himself and thus to bind himself in the service of a basic value. This value is an enrichment to both the religious him-self and to his community. The value, as it were, me-diates between the person and the community, recip-rocally helping the person to serve the community and the community to respect and draw benefit from the per-son by warding off some risks of instability. In its wider scope, the value of a religious community extends to the unlimited horizons of the Church and society. When See Summa theologiae, 2-2, q.44, a.4, ad 3. a person publicly announces his fundamental option to live a celibate life in a religious community, he makes an appeal to the community to help him be a full man and a full Christian. He is helped negatively when the com-munity does not interfere with or hinder the realization of his fundamental option--the development of his personality under grace; he is helped positively when the community has a concern and care for his life ful-fillment. The binding force of a vow is derived immediately from the option one makes of God but mediately from the religious community and the Church in which the religious pronounces his vow. The religious .vow has a quality of reciprocity between the religious himself and the community of his profession. Between the two there exists a sort of two-way street of right and responsibility. In our sociotechnic world there still is much need of the other-directed spirit, of teamwork and a measure of con-formity and mutual respect to obtain the same goals. The religious cannot oblige the community onesidedly, nor can the community willfully or lightly discharge its duty toward the religious. Just as the religious can prove unfaithful to his community, so can the community fail the religious particularly if it does not renew or up-date itself. The human and Christian quintessence of the reli-gious life consists of a special concentration upon a lifelong value by means of a freely willed Christian celibacy. Whatever is added to this quintessence is of human creation and consequently is historically con-ditioned. The evangelical inspiration is subsumed into a variety of concrete forms and structures and institu-tionalisations, all of which are bound up with historical experiences and cultural patterns. None of them has eter-nal value, not even the form(s) the founder or foundress gave to the gospel message. Whenever the evangelical inspiration is found wrapped in a new life experience, its particular value can be questioned and criticized by the psychologist, sociologist, economist, hygienist, anthro-pologist, and others interested in the practical life of man. They compel us to rethink the religious life as it is time-honored and -bound in our constitutions. It is a fatal mistake to identify the latter with the gospel in-spiration. The Council fathers of Vatican II were not unmindful of the fact that religious institutes periodically revise their constitutions in order to adapt themselves to time and place. Surely in calling for a radical overhauling of the religious life they were thinking of the social and cultural revolution we are passing through, when slight and detailed changes and modifications are not enough. + + + Religious Li~e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 33 + ÷ Joseph Fichtner, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There is much room for consolidating, deepening, and trimming. The crisis we face is deeper and graver than we know; it is clearly evidenced by the revolutionized concept of man and God in our secularized age. If the religious institute as we know it is to survive, we must make a heroic effort to restructure and revitalize it. It does not need a heart transplant, but it will need a series of blood transfusions. Needless to say, the religious institute that cannot or will not adapt will sing its own requiem. The gospel inspiration of the religious life offers no guarantee that the various traditional forms or structures have to endure forever. A religious institute may well have served its purpose and should go out of existence or coalesce with a more viable group. The life experience today is so new, so revolutionalized, so secularized, that in a sense all re-ligious institutes can be considered old which do not reinterpret the gospel in the light of the new life situa-tion. We have to bear a crisis so severe that only a radical restructuring of the religions institute will tide it over: This restructuring has to be more than an offscouring of antiquated practices, making our life easier or more sociable. It has to arise from a thorough re-evangelisation which asks questions of itself and of life as religious live it in a secularized society. Nobody can accomplish this tremendous task but the community itself, and especially its young members who are not baffled by the new life experience becat~se they have been born and raised in it. But one can hardly insist enough upon the duty of the entire community, young and old members, to enter into the restructuring phase. This is not a task divided between the young members pushing ahead with a crea-tive spirit and the old upholding the canons of ortho-doxy. Both have to be patient and indulgent. Nor is it a summoning of an endless series of meetings and discus-sions where members reflect upon their life, haggle back and forth over community life, the apostolate, the struc-tnre of authority, and what have you, yet in the mean-while make no effort at experimentation with new forms and are fearful of groping toward a reincarnation of the religious life. Who does not feel stymied by an inconsist-ency between thought and action, plan and life? Given plenty of room for experimentation, for pilot projects, not necessarily in every monastery or convent but here and there where local needs require it and the proper authorities are willing to assume the ultimate responsi-bility, where everybody enters enthusiastically and not merely tolerantly into the experimentations, thus mani-festing their loyalty to the institute, the religious life will blossom out anew, perhaps in an unsuspected way-- at least under the mysterious, unforeseeable guidance of the Holy Spirit. ANDRI~E EMERY Experiment in Counseling Religious When* I began working at the Hacker Psychiatric Clinic in 1961---on the staff of which I am the only Catholic, unless I count one doctor, who although baptized Catholic does not consider himself a member of the Church--the general opinion of the staff would have paralleled the oft-quoted but not sufficiently validated statement that many more religious than lay persons were mentally ill. At that time they thought, I guess, that most if not all religious must be at least a little crazy.~ In the past seven years the climate of opinion in our clinic has changed, not as a result of apologetic dialogu-ing but through every day, pragmatic experience. Today, if one were to ask our staff for an opinion, they would probably say that the problems of religious were rather similar to those of lay people but that on the whole the religious seemed to be more insightful, more intelligent, and more motivated toward resolving their problems. O£ course, except for the very ill, who constituted merely a fraction of our religious clientele, intelligence and moti-vation could be presupposed; otherwise they would not have asked for psychiatric help. The Hacker Clinic is not a subsidized agency but a private clinic with some 20 professionals on the staff, most of them psychiatrists (M.D.'s). Because of its private character, patients who seek help there are mostly middle-class, financially independent or well insured, and thus comparable to the well-educated and, sup-posedly, well-socialized religious. In the past three and one half years 156 religious--73 men and 83 women-- and 6 diocesan priests were seen in our clinic. I, personally, spent more than 3500 hours interviewing these men and women. Since each person * This is the text of a talk given on August 8, 1968, at the Ameri-can Canon Law Society's Workshop on Renewal at Notre Dame, Indiana. 4- Andr~e Emery, area director of the Society of Our Lady of the Way, is a sociologist and clinical counselor residing at 127 South Arden Boule-vard; Los Angeles, California 90004. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ admitted to our clinic undergoes a full evaluation, which includes testing and psychiatric consultation and in-volves interviews with at least three different profession-als, and since some religious were seen in therapy not by me but by other members of our staff, the total hours spent by our clinic with religious and priests could easily be three or four times this number. I did not include in my 3500 hours time spent in workshops, conferences, seminars, personal interviews during educational ven-tures, nor time spent evaluating aspirants before they were accepted into a community. Thus the 3500 hours, and some, were devoted entirely to direct clinical inter-views, either for evaluation or for therapy. The 156 religious seen in the past three and one half years--118 of whom were finally professed--represent 34 communities. Of the finally professed 66 were religious sisters, 5 were religious priests, 31 were major seminar-ians, 14 were teaching brothers, and two were members of a secular institute of men. One religious priest was on leave of absence, one woman religious was exclaustrated, and three were dispensed from perpetual vows shortly before coming to the clinic. Of the remaining 38 religi-ous, 21 had temporary vows--5 men and 16 women-- and 17 were novices, of whom 14 were men. Only about 10 per cent of these patients were diag-nosed psychotic and approximately another 10 per cent as severely neurotic. The majority merely had problems, probably not very different from those who did not seek our help. The median age of all religious men and women and diocesan priests whom we saw was 28 years. The median age of the men was somewhat lower than this figure, be-cause of the relatively large number of seminarians and novices among them, and that of the women was some-what higher. Only 19 per cent of the women and 8 per cent of the men were over 40 years of age. The services rendered by the clinic varied. 78, fewer than half of the total, were simply evaluated by us. Of these we recommended therapy or counseling for 37, but to our knowledge only in ten instances was our recom-mendation followed. The other 27 did not receive the recommended help. At present, there are 10 men and 10 women religious in therapy in our clinic, 7 of them for less than a year, 13 for more than a year, and there were 64 others in therapy who are no longer coming. 22 hospital patients were visited daily; the majority who were outpatients were seen once or twice a week, and a few follow-up cases were seen once a month. All were seen in individual therapy, but 15 were also in group therapy. Priests and brothers attended group sessions with lay men, the sisters had their own group. 86, or more than half of all the religious and priests seen by us in the past three and one half years, told us that they wished to leave the religious or priestly life. Had we had longer contact with those whom we have merely evaluated, the number might have been even larger. We did not ask them directly about this and not all volunteered unasked-for information in the first in-terview. Exactly half of those who mentioned leaving did leave, most of them shortly after evaluation and without hav-ing been given an opportunity for further counseling-- or perhaps not desiring it. Ten who were in therapy in our clinic left their communities after therapy was in-terrupted against their wishes or against our recommen-dation. Of the 74 whose therapy with us was not interrupted, only four left--three during therapy and one after mu-tually agreed termination of therapy. These figures speak for themselves: problems can and should be solved rather than run from. After listening carefully to a relatively large number of religious men and women, I asked myself the ques-tion: Are their problems similar or different from those that weigh down our other patients? We cannot separate our personal growth and our in-dividual crises from the historical development and con-temporary crises of the group with which we are identi-fied. There is no human being who is free from the influence of the society into which he was born and in which he has been raised. While we sift perceptions and experiences through our personal physical and psycho-logical apparatus that is very particularly our own and give them special emphasis and slant, our apperceptions, our symbols, our values, our conflicts, our likes and dis-likes, the very traits that we think of as most personal, most expressive of our individuality, are suprapersonal. They are consensual with the culture in which we are rooted; at least they must be such if we are to be con-sidered "normal" and not "odd" by our contemporaries. This was brought home to us rather early in our ex-perience with religious patients. At that time some of our non-Catholic staff still expected to find intolerable conditions triggering if not causing the acute problems of religious. (Off the record, I have seen conditions in religious houses of men which I, or most any woman, religious or lay, could not have tolerated, and I am sure that some men, in turn, would feel the same way about our houses.) But to come back to the clinic: Not more than half a dozen of our religious patients described without corn-÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 37 4. Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 38 plaint, external circumstances in their convents that seemed intolerable to us. The remarkable thing was that. the communities from which they came were all foreign in their origin and rule and also in their membership. The conditions described would have seemed intolerable to most American religious, too; yet the religious who lived under these conditions, including our foreign-born patients, did not find it particularly intolerable. And so we had to face the fact that our judgment of what was tolerable or intolerable was made from' the point of view of national culture, which was the same for American doctors as for American religious from active congrega-tions. Taking this basic dependency on the culture group for granted, we cannot be astonished that many of the basic problems of religious men and women in the United States do not seem to differ greatly from those of other American men and women. The growth of Western civilization, together with its stratification and specialization, has created models of shifting, sectional, and contradictory prototypes, from Ronald Reagan to Martin Luther King Go Malcolm X. Ours is a mobile society, multi-valued, materialistic, outer directed, as the sociologist would say, easily brain-washed by mass media, advertisements, fads, and. ffish-ions. It is peer-group oriented rather than hierarchical and, at present, is plagued by rebellions, which while not necessarily more violent than those of the past are cer-tainly more ubiquitous. Change and not stability is the epitome of this kind of society even in human relationships, as the steadily in-creasing divorce rate dramatically shows. That time, and thus change, is a human dimension was already recog-nized by Heraclitus 2500 years ago. But the rate of change is not constant; some structures change slower than others; and there are periods when the same entity, be it matter, living being, or human society, slows down or accelerates. The period in human life when change is most evident is adolescence. Yet Erikson, who is perhaps the best known psychologist of this country, calls this period "moratorium"--delay of adulthood, which the young person needs to integrate earlier childhood experiences and to learn to conform to the larger society which will soon replace his immediate family environment. In our Western world--and, particularly in the United States which is considered the apex of it--this morato-rium on adulthood has become extended far beyond the period of physical and sexual maturation and," thus, adolescent problems he.avily "interlace and aggravate the problems that young adults, as a matter of course, must face. It is not that our young who marry or enter religion are much younger in age than were those in former generations, but their readiness to assume adult respon-sibilities, particularly continuing responsibilities, seems to be less. Young and not-so-young religious who were born and nurtured in our culture are no less exempt from this extended moratorium and its consequences than are their married counterparts. Is it really--as we often hear---~the hierarchical struc-ture of religious communities that keeps religious im-mature? More immature than their lay counterparts? We did not find religious more immature or more frequently immature. But, obviously, those who did not wish to assume responsibility, for whatever reason, had a better excuse, a ready-made rationalization. Still, the child wife, the happy-go-lucky husband are not rarities either. The impulsive adolescent who marries or enters religion, having "fallen in love," will back out quickly, and this will be less traumatic for the religious than for the married. But those who cling to the idealized image con-structed by their immature motivations and resist facing reality---even a reality not inferior to their fantasy, just different--will experience severe crises, in marriage or religious life alike--one, two, five, ten years after their initial commitment. The fantasy wears away bit by bit, leaving them numb, empty, and somehow feeling cheated. I was told with great feeling by a 25-year-old mother of four that she had just discovered that she was not a teen-ager any more but "mommy" and that she did not like it a bit. As a matter of fact, she did not know whether she liked children at all. And I had to listen to a very angry, very depressed young superior of 28, who "just wanted to do a good job," but whose ambition was thwarted by the non-cooperation of several sisters, in-cluding one severely mentally ill, and who found that she could not maintain the unruffled, cooly kind exterior that earned her the early appointment to office. The pedestal broke, both under the community where "such things could happen" and under her who could not live up to the fantasy ideal. But to go a step further: Not only does our culture extend the moratorium on adulthood, it openly vaunts that adulthood is not worth aiming for. We have a cult of youth--the historical development of which, though relevant, cannot be presented here. Youth has ceased to be regarded as a transition period in which adult living is learned, in which adult identities are crystalized. It has become an aim, an identity, a subculture, emulated in some ways by the broadest segments of society. Who wants to be an adult today? (And who wants to be a + + ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 39 A~dr~e JEnt~ry REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious superior?) The model wears a miniskirt not only on her hips but in her (or his) head. At the same time, in strange contradiction but with unavoidable logic, we have put terrible responsibilities and burdens on young shoulders, probably more so than did any former generation. One of the main characteris-tics that differentiate human from animal life is time binding: the ability to transmit experience from one-generation to another. To demand from young people that they learn all the answers "on the go," pragmati-cally, by experimentation, to pretend that in the few years of their lives they could and should discover or duplicate the accumulated experience of mankind is sheer hypocrisy, or what is worse, delusion. The im-mature cannot become mature in human society with-out guidance. To quote Erikson: "By abdicating, by abrogating responsibility, the older generation deprives the young from forceful ideals which must exist for their sake--if only so that they can be rebelled against." Ra-tionalizing our inconsistencies and vacillations, our cow-ardice and lack of principles, with the excuse that it frees them from dependency does not help the young to grow. Is the peer society of the street gang superior to the authoritarian family still found in urban minority groups and in farming areas? If we elected (or, God forbid, appointed) only religious under 35 years of age into all offices, would that really guarantee a better gov-ernment than when we acted according to a different cultural pattern and gave the offices only to the old and supposedly "wise"? Are the younger more tolerant, do they show more empathy, more Christian virtue than the old? Or the other way around? No. The generation gap is legitimate only as an ado-lescent phenomenon--as a pause (though a very active pause) in which the young person has left childhood behind and has not yet reached adulthood. Otherwise the gap is mostly semantic: personalities clashing because they do not use the same symbols, same words, for the same concepts. Interestingly, now it is the old who are expected to learn the jargon of the young and not the other way round. I still smile when I remember a recent conference attended by some 200 people where no one was less than twice 16, and most three times that age and more, and where we had to sing Ray Repp songs during Mass--which in my opinion are both poor music and poor theology--just to show that we were "with it." To this point I have spoken only of a basic social fact--I don't like to call it problem--that affects both lay people and religious in our culture and which is at the root of many symptoms that we encounter in the clinic. There is an important facet of the present confusion that (oncerns religious and priests in particular. At a recent discussion in our clinic I was asked whether I could specify the ideal, the model of a religious--his own concept of his role or identity. I had to admit that had I been asked this question ten years ago, or even five, I would have thought it answerable--but not now. Incidentally, I have asked this same question of several major superiors and received just as vague a reply. It becomes more and more clear that the theology of religi-ous life still needs to be written. Up to the time Pope John opened the windows of the Vatican, we have had--and to some extent we still have--a subculture of religious institutes, distinct though related to othe~ subcultures of the Catholic Church. In the United States the religious subculture was colored by Irish-French, or rather 'French-Irish Ca-tholicism. This religious subculture, this cultural island, was well defined, stable, hierarchical, in contrast to the mobile, multi-valued, peer-oriented culture that sur-rounded it. It had not only a particular philosophy but also its own symbolism and language--understood only by the initiated but understood by all of them much in the same way. Because of its confidence-inspiring stability and the idealism of its teachings, it greatly appealed to many: to the searching, to the young who wanted to cut the apron strings but still needed support, to those who needed status, or those who wished to leave behind materialism, competition, and self-seeking. In a sense it was all to all: it provided security and challenge, asceticism and freedom from cares, opportunity for self-development and oppor-tunity for self-sacrifice. Or so it seemed. As we have been a nation on wheels for some time, not only the present generation of religious but at least two previous ones had to do quite a bit of adjusting to this distinctly delineated structure when they left their families of origin. Perhaps the children of foreign-born parents found it easier to adjust--perhaps not. It de-pended on how much they introjected or, conversely, rejected the values of their primary group. But whether first, second, or fourth generation of Americans, all who entered attempted to adjust to religious life as they found it. I said, attempted to adjust, because our early up-bringing cannot be completely eradicated and conflict patterns will persist. Many of our seriously ill patients were older men and women: some chronically ill with symptoms of chronic frustration in attempted adjust-ment; some acutely ill, with primary processes breaking through the surface of more or less successful controls exercised for years. Adjustment to the religious life, however, has not been 4- Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 4] ÷ ÷ ÷ A~tdr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS entirely a one-way street. Needs and values which the individual member brought from his primary culture had also an effect on the religious institutes. These slowly changed, became more American in character, sought some kind of equilibrium with the broader society around them. Still, on the whole, they remained distinctive. Thus, the young person who entered might have found it more or less ego syntonic, more or less cor-responding to his personality and early upbringing, but rarely found it completely so. The religious way of life always demanded sacrifice, self-denial, rejection of some earlier values. At the same time it offered sufficient re-wards to enable the individual to exist in it. And then, if I may say so without offending, after Vatican II we suddenly changed horses mid-stream. The point here is not whether the change was for the better or for the worse, and most of us hope and trust that it will be to the better; nor am I questioning the need, in some respects the overdue need, for change. I merely wish to underscore the unavoidable problems that arise from such a massive and headlong change. For the sake of illustration, imagine that you are a teacher, nurse, or drill-press operator and on short notice you are told that your job description and the require-ments for employment have been redefined and that the procedures as well as the rewards have been changed. Moreover, not only are the old role definitions super-seded, but you are told that you must get new directives and guidelines--except that you are not sure from whom or what. Would you not get upset? As one of my patients said: "Formerly we knew that if we got on the boat that went in the right direction and didn't get of[, we were ok. Now we are made personally responsible to get where we are going, but no one has yet thought it through how to get there." Under such circumstances it is understandable that severe conflicts develop. You will say that most of the changes were thoroughly discussed and dialogued, that they were not sudden, that opinions were polled, votes were taken. No one's good will and integrity are being questioned. But even if experiments Were discussed beforehand, did we evalu-ate them thoroughly afterwards? This conference is an attempt to do so. Just how long is it that we have been discussing them? Two years, three years, five years? If we cannot integrate complex childhood experiences during the normal years of adolescence and must extend the moratorium, just how long do you think we need to sift and integrate the huge mass of divergent opinions, rules, roles, and behavior that has been sprung on us in the recent past? A frequent consequence is panic, and not necessarily among the old timers who now have an excuse to remain passive, to leave the initiative to the young, and, if they cannot resist temptation, to sit back and criticize. It is more often the young who panic, because the responsi-bility is too great. Hence exodus of many young progres-sives. Willy-nilly, they accept re.sponsibility for them-selves, but not for the groupl And one cannot blame them; the rules of the game are equivocal and they do I . not know what will prove rewarding. When the religious role is merely a thin veneer on the .I personality, under the abrasion of uncertainties and clashes it wears off. Religio6s ,,who s'eeme,d, to be well adjusted now revert to tlaeir real selves--and since public disapproval has diminished--leave the subculture with which they were not fully identified. It is only lately that we have come to recognize that ¯ I keeping young religious isolated for long periods in the exclusive company of their peers, even for the sake advanced education, did not help them develop ~rich human qualities and did not foster community spirit. They tended to remain a sepa, rate group which out of psychological necessity had to f, ancy itself better and dif-ferent from others, inside and outside the community. The unreality was further inflated when the young sisters were assigned, strmght from school, into positions which their lay ¯counterparts ~could achieve only .after many years of hard work. We liave seen the young Ph.D. who was made a full professojr right after she received her degree leave the community when she encountered the first serious obstacle; the[ young R.N., supervisor without ever having been a rookie nurse, getting doctors, staff, and patients into turmoil land feeling "defeated for good"; the young priest, promiiing member of his order, going literally on a sit-down strike because he could not do all that he expected from hi~nself and from others. Into this group belong also t~e men and women whose delayed adolescence led to so-cAlled "late blooming" and who leave religious life because of real or purported .I sexual oroblems. In our experience, there were far fewer of .these than generally assumed, at least among the women religious. Here I must stop and quali[y~ what I have just said. In the last two months 78 case histories accumulated on my desk, of clients not seen by us in the clinic but about whom I was consulted by a non-sectarian adoption agency. These are cases of seventy-eight ex-religious, most them college graduates, many with advanced degrees, who left their convents 6 to 18 months ago and who are expecting a child out of wedlock. They are mostly in their middle thirties, and most of the fathers of the child ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 44 to be are members of underprivileged minority groups. Not one was a victim of rape. Practically all said the same thing: our community did not change fast enough with the times; our community is not involved with the poor and underprivileged. We wanted to get dose to people in a personal apostolate (none of them were trained social workers); we wanted to live with them in the inner citymand get involved. And so they did. A few of them stated that they were advised by priests to leave the celibate life and get married. But, one of them added bitterly, they never warned her how few eligible men there were in her age bracket. Not knowing these women personally, I cannot judge how many had serious sexual problems, for which this certainly was not the answer, and how many were naively following fashions or using broadly preached but not sufficiently thought through slogans to excuse their im-mature acting out. As regards the quoted advice, it seems to be freely given to both men and women religious, as if marriage were a cure for sexual problems, to be used on prescriptionmwhich incidentally doesn't work rather than a sacrament and a responsible human relationship requiring maturity and mutual respect from the part-ners. ~Arhile some of the foregoing is a regrettable but pre-dictable reaction to stress, enhanced by a cultural incli-nation to buy what is advertised or what is in fashion, irregardless, there is an additional psychological com-ponent in the existing confusion among the religious. When a person searches for a new identity or new iden-tification, by definition he ceases to act in the role of a mature adult. He regresses to quasi-adolescence, to turmoil, indecisiveness, influencibility, impulsive acting out. We have seen this syndrome frequently in refugees and adult immigrants when they tried to adjust to their new country and its culture. The search for new mean-ing, new relevance, new identity in the religious life, whether to the better or worse, per se increases the turmoil caused by other individual and social factors. Perhaps the present quasi-adolescent upheaval of the religious is unavoidable, and hopefully it will lead us into a more and better integrated religious adulthood; but it is painful for those who go through it and more often than not embarrassing for the onlooker. Having become aware of widespread immaturity in comtemporary society and of its consequences, we are now inclined to fall into another pit. We are tempted to demand the impossible: that the girls and boys who enter our institutes, seminaries, convents, be mature. Per-haps maturity could be demanded if we would up the entrance age by some 20 years, in the hope that someone else would give the young the necessary guidance and would develop their personalities for religious life. We cannot stock novitiates and seminaries with sure bets--we have to take chances. We cannot screen out all who are immature, because if we do we abdicate as religious educators, as adults who take the responsibility for nurturing and forming the young. And certainly we should not screen out anyone on the basis of one test, given in absentia and scored by someone who never saw the applicant in person. On the other hand, we should not let young religious take perpetual vows when there is a serious question regarding their suitability. Severely neurotic persons, not to speak of psychotic or potentially psychotic ones, should not be burdened hy commitments which they will not be able to keep. But, when a professed member of a community be-comes disturbed or mentally ill, do we have a right to say that he should never have entered, that she never had a vocation, that they should be let go if at all possible? Are only the perfect seated at the banquet of the Master? Father Orsy last night said that St. Peter would not have been canonized--I don't think he would have been ac-cepted into a novitiate. Are our disturbed brothers and sisters very different from us but for being harder hit by suffering? Who is my neighbor? Only the under-privileged in the inner city? These troubled men and women in our communities are our closest neighbors. They are our poor: we have accepted them, we formed or tried to form or deform them, and we must bear their burden if we are to be called Christians. There are great differences in attitudes toward disturbed religious in their communities. Trying to get rid of them, with the shallow excuse that they never had a vocation and never should have been accepted, is injustice, even if there should be some truth in it; sending them from house to house or cramming them into the motherhouse is no answer to the problem either, and neither is the plan to live in an apartment with chosen friends the solution. When I said good-bye to the chief of our clinic, he said: "You will make a theological point, won't you? [He meant some reference to religion.] After all, you will be speaking to religiousl" I am tempted to belabor for a couple of minutes the often heard remark that no one wants to commit him-self today--which is true to a certain extent. But more often than not we found that persons, religious or lay, are desperately hungry for commitment. They want to give themselves to something or someone. They so very much want to entrust themselves to some group or indi-vidual. But they have not learned to trust because they Counseling Religious VOLUME ~'8, J.969 + ÷ Andr~e Emery REVIEW'FOR R'EL'~G IOUS ,t6 have not found anyone really trustworthy in their young years. Therefore they want and need some tangible evi-dence of appreciation, something in exchange--love or ~uccess--and they want a way out if things do not work out. Their needs are unfulfilled childhood needs; their reservations are rooted deep down in bone and marrow. The concept of commitment is not easily reconciled with such reservations--certainly not Christian commitment which must be an adult act of self-giving. I know that the saints and particularly the mystics are not "in" now, but rarely have I found a better description of the "perfec-tion of charity" (if I may use such an antiquated term) than in one of St. Catherine of Siena's mystical dialogues when she heard our Lord say." I have placed you in the midst of your fellows that you may do to them what you cannot do to me, that is to say, that you may love your neighbor of free grace without expecting any return from him. Someone asked how to tell whether a tree brought good fruit? We are too often inclined to think of success as good fruit. From where did we, Christians, get this notion anyhow? Of instant success as a must? Or even as hard-earned reward of the just? Christianity always was a losing cause, at least in the short run. Few apostles have reaped where they have sown. There was a small item in the Los Angeles morning paper the day I left home. I cut it out because of its deep significance for us. The follow-ing is an excerpt from it: The finest sermon he ever heard, said Dr. Eugene Carson Blake, was just three sentences long. It was delivered by Miss Kathleen Bliss of the Church of England, before the Central Committee of the World Council of Churches last year. In a very brief closing service we had sung the ancient hymn, "Veni Creator Spiritus". Dr. Bliss then read from the Gospel of Luke in the 4th Chapter, the account of Jesus returning to Nazareth and entering into the Synagogue and opening a book where it read, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering the sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to pro-claim the acceptable year of the Lord." ,, Then Dr. Bliss spoke her three sentences. Our hymn was a prayer in which we dared to ask for the presence and guid-ance of the Holy Spirit. We never know whether He will come or what He will do to us if He comes. I remind you that the scripture account which we have just heard goes on to tell us that Jesus' neighbors in Nazareth then tried to kill Him." .There is another variation on the success theme that is even more disturbing than the naive expectation of in-st~ int reward. In our work with religious we frequently came face to face with a man or woman, capable, tal-ented, "who was deeply angry, resentful, depressed, be-cause he or she was not omnipotent. Some wanted to change others, some wanted to change themselves, some sought external success, recognition, others the persdnal satisfaction of achievement, or, occasionally, material goods. None of them faced "this carnal reality," the limits of human existence, in themselves and outside. They wanted something and therefore it had to be. If it did not happen, they went on a "strike" or they became negative, withdrawn, maneuvering-~each according to his personality. Passive-aggressive? Not always. But what-ever the pathology or the character structure, with one's "third ear" one perceived the echo of the ancient pro~nise: And you will be like God--all knowing, all powerful. When the promise did not come true, there came forth the even more ancient answer: Non serviam. I will not serve. Familiar? Some years ago it was thought that emotionally dis-turbed and mentally ill people were often preoccupied with religion. Actually, in certain crisis periods of life, such as 5-6 years in childhood, in adolescence, in the so-called change of life, when approaching death, people become preoccupied with basic human problems: life-death, love-hate, God or the void. There is a certain logic in that people should turn to God in periods of suffering and turmoil--though sometimes this might be expressed in the form of cursing. I might have misunder-stood one of the earlier speakers, and if I did, I apolo-gize, but it seemed to me that she said that the suffering and the dying are always completely self-centered. Not always, as many concentration camp cases have shown, to mention only extreme instances. When an individual is deeply rooted in a culture that recognizes the tran-scendent, and if his childhood trust was permitted to grow into adult faith, even if he experienced shorter or longer periods of emotional fatigue (to use an euphe-mism) in high and low periods of life he will return to God. This is why I was deeply shaken by the fact that of the 161 religions and priests to whom I have listened for several thousand hours, only two, one priest and one brother, mentioned God. No matter how much I would like to shun it, how can I avoid asking the question: What tragic lack in us, Christian parents of the present generation, religious men and women, teachers, nurses, social workers, catechists, what tragic lack in us has buried God so deep that even the suffering and the troubled cannot reach Him today? Indeed, there is a need for renewal that goes far beyond adaptation. + ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 ANDREW J. WEIGERT Social Dimensions of Religious Clothing Andrew J. Wei-gert is a faculty member of the De-partment of Soci-ology and Anthro-pology at the University of Notre Dame in Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Catholic experience as presently interpreted in America is undergoing many changes.1 In the midst of such widespread change, there may be a danger in under-valuing certain sociological dimensions of clothing in the case of the religious orders, both men and women, and to some extent for the diocesan clergy as well. The prob-lem is no doubt most pervasive in the religious orders of women. At the same time, there seems to be some un-clarity and lack of simple sociological principles to in-form the discussion and aid in the decision making. A folk adage has it that "the cowl does not make the monk," but the resistance offered to changes in religious garb from certain quarters makes it apparent that some may think differently. Nor is such resistance always to be attributed to unthinking conservativism. It may be based on a well founded respect for the "reality" and social, power of appearances. These realistic bases for questioning the advisability of change for the sake of change deserve respect and should be distinguished from various traditions which grow around uniforms (for example, saints appearing in a certain habit) as attempts to legitimize and sanctify a uniform for all times, places, and social orders. The present discussion of religious clothing will focus around two value orientations which are taken to be more or less conflicting: witnessing for other-worldly (transcendent) values, and identifying with this-worldly (immanent) values. In order to witness for other-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as standing for such values; and the sign, for example, a uniform which cannot be identified with contemporary cultural styles, which enables him (throughout this paper, the him will refer to the "religious," both male and female, with all wish to thank Sisters Rosina Fieno, C.S.J., and Mary Margaret Zaenglein, I.H.M., for criticizing .an earlicr version of this paper. II due respects to the latter) to be recognized as a witness also sets him apart from non-witnessing persons. Simi-larly, in order to be identified with this-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as belonging to the group which shares these values. Social recognition, as mediated by clothing, is a cognitive process whereby the viewer classifies and labels individuals according to his interpretation of their tailored appearance. An in-escapable social-psychol0gical dimension of every social order is the necessary visual "giving off" of information about his place and identity in that society which each individual proffers in his appearance. Stated aphoris- ~tic.ally, a member of society cannot not "appear," tha
Issue 20.2 of the Review for Religious, 1961. ; JOHN B. WAIN, M.D. Psychological Problems in Religious Life In the religious press it is becoming more common to find articles on the psychological problems of the dedi-cated life, but itis unusual to read any contributions from doctors. As one who has been privileged to associate closely with religious and to care for them over many years, this writer feels that his observations may be of some use to the great army of admirable, holy, an_.d well balanced priests, brothers, and sisters when they have to help the small but important group of priests and religious who suffer from nervous disorders. The layman gains the im-pression that psychological difficulties are some of the greatest problems which religious have to face; indeed, unspoken misgivings about this matter may be partly re-sponsible for the shortage of vocations. This may operate in two ways. Parents are willing to let their children face martyrdom at the hands of the pagans, but they have their reservations about the unnecessary crosses to be taken up daily in the community or in the rectory, Children who have suffered injustice from a neurotic teacher will eschew the risk of joining that order or congregat.ion when they grow up. The price of retaining one such maladjusted person in the community without giving him the proper care and attention might be the loss of twenty vocations from among successive classes of pupils and the estrange-ment of an equal number of tentative converts. As a starting point for discussion on the matter, two broad generalisations will be offered. First, there is too much neurosis among religious. Second, much of it is avoidable or preventible. These are merely clinical im-pressions. It is impossible to assess accurately the incidence of nervous disease in any group or nationality; neverthe-less, confirmation of the above two ideas can be easily found in conversations with Catholic doctors and'religious nurses. All such persons agree about the existence of neu-÷ ÷ John B. Wain, M.D., is a ph},sician with man.}, years of experience m treating men and women religious. VOLUME 20~ 1961 8! 4. 4. 4. John B. Wain, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 82 rosis among religious men and women. One doctor who visits a man's religious institution of thirty members states that in the weekly sick parade there, there are always at least ten with inconsequential complaints. It is a fair observation to say that every community, however small, has at least one neurotic problem to deal with. This situation is most unsatisfactory. The energies of the supe-rior are dissipated in managing the misfit, and the unity of the community is endangered. The saddest task for the doctor is to institute .psychiatric treatment for one who has suffered a nervous breakdown in Christ's service. Sometimes these patients are nursed along for years for fear that their state may reflect badly on the order's way of life. This may be so, but it is a disastrous policy to delay seeking psychiatric help in the hope that the dis-order will remit spontaneously. Sister M. William Kelley1 in a unique article has given the incidence of hospitalized mental illness among re-ligious sisters in the United States. Her paper was notable for its courage in facing up to the problem and for the fact that the main religious mental hospitals refused to cooperate with her in the investigation. This unwilling-ness to submit the problem to discussion is not uncommon, even though such discussion would be productive of great good. The truth cannot harm us. Sister William found that, when compared with women in secular life, religious suffered from a higher incidence of psychotic (particularly schizophrenic) and psychoneurotic disorders, even though because of prior selection they have less mental deficiency, and chronic brain syndromes. She concluded that pre-psychotic personalities may be attracted to the religious life on the basis of what they think it will do for their un-satisfied desires and that the increase of mental disorder among active religious may be due to factors of stress such as overcrowded classes and understaffed hospitals. Two suggestions are made by the present writer for the prophylaxis of this state of affairs. More~importance should be given to p~ychological matters in the selection of seminarians, postulants, and novices; and there could be a systematic reduction in factors causing nervous stress in the lives of professed religious. A common impression is that many of these psychiatric patients enter religion without adequate psychological assessment, Often the family history of mental disease is ignored, or the personal history of previous nervous br2akdown is not taken seri-ously enough. These should be serious contraindications to acceptance, although it must be admitted that Blot ¯ Sister M. William Kelley, I.H,M., "The Incidence of Hospitalized, Mental Illness among Religious Sisters in. the United States," The American Journal of Psychiatry, 115 (i958-1959), 72-75. and Galimard2 give the impression that such unsuitable candidates may sgm_etimes-be,considered for religioys life. - . - It should n~t l~e too difficult to introduce some f~)rm of " psychological testing for all applicants to seminaries.and to religious life. The Califoi'nia ~'~gt of "Mental' ~V~ity;_ the DifferentialApti.tude Test, or the He.nmqn-Nelson test. could be used to gauge general intelligence, while.,~ per~" son~ality profile of the applican.ts.c, ou_ld be achieved by,:~he use of the Edwards PersOnal. Prgference Schedule,~ the Guilford-Zimmerman Temp.eram~enL Survey, _or t,he Mid-_ nesota.Per.sonality Scale. These tests can be .proctored by" persons.with no special tra_i~nin~g alth,0ugh the~,i~erpreta; tion of them should be en~.tr, u~ted to.some0ne with training in, psychology. When" these tests mncover a, Oos's'ib~, sig-nificant_ area Qf defect in the appl!cant, he can be refer.red, to a competent psycho~logis~.fo.r further examination be-fore he is accepted by the seminary or rellgaous lnsutute. Masters and mistre.sse, s of novices should have some specialized tr~fining in psychologiEal work so that they. can recognize early the sy.mptoms, of maladjustment and dismiss such subjects from the community b~'fore they disturb its peace and b'~lance. O~n~ common type. w~ may be mistakenly admitted-is ~the girl ~ho stays on at the convent boardin~school until.the age of nineteen or twenty, unable to make up her-mihd ab6ut°the. future.i This is a serious form of. immaturity,.wh~ose progn6sis, in religign, is poor. The admission~ of youths and girls the age of" sixteen also involves the°risk bf, ac~eptii~g vo-cations which, are_ based.on~,immature co~ncep, ts, while late entrants tend to.be too.,, independent to acce.pt.religi~ous,. obedience. -. ,~,o , - - Much could be done.to reduce the psych,olo.gical stresses which are not an integral par, t. of religious life, the .m. o~,t potent weapon being the fosterin~ of a warm pa#~nta,.1 love between superiors and subjects. Accepting poverty,'chas-~ tity, obedience, and the in'es~apable difficulties d~ common~ life involves sufficient.sacrifice without creating ar'fificial' burdens. In. Oiscu~.s!ng~ .~eligi0tis vows, even-in a st~irit of humility, the doctor ,strays outside his specialty; ~bu~ the mtenuon here ~slto point out thexr medxcal repercus: sion~ in mentally disturbed p~ople. Pov~r~y,, ig iiaainly spirit/aM "concept of defachm~nt° from ear~h'l~ ~hxuri~ but not- the denial of the basic necessftids of-life. Religious. should lead a life-of.lfrugal' omfort,~not one 6f.pehur, y, hunger, and.,privati~;n i~aless~h~ seek these as%specifiC, penances.St. Therese of Lisieuxost.ated that h~r mare cross in the convent was bearing the cold, an indictment of.'tl~e insufficient heating. She died Of t(~berculosis at the ~geof. twent~-foui', when the hot, salt blood welled u'p i~i'to i;i"e~ ~ Ren~ Blot. M.D. and Pierre G~limard, M.D., Medicid Guide to Vocations (Westminister: Newman, 1955). 4. Psychological Problems " VOLUME 20, 196~. John B. Wain, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 84 mouth~"she was happy to think how soon she would be in heaven. For her it was a saintly death; for her superior it was a comment" on the neglect of the community's health. St. Berhadette also suffered hardships in the convent and died of the same disease at thirty-five. Even now tuber-culosis is a risk for all young people in religion. Is it pos-sible that the vow of poverty has been misapplied? Chastity is the glory of the religious life and nothing can be done to make its acceptance any easier, but efforts should be made to eliminate false standards of purity which degenerate into prudery and unreasonable con-cepts of modesty. Gynecological complaints are often suffered'.for years before medical advice is sought, and maligfl~ant tumors are not reported until they are in-operable. The fact that some religious are not permitted to attend the reception of the sacrament of matrimony is a relic of Jansenism which may give offence to lay people and connotes false apprehensions about the nature of religious chastity. The kingdom of heaven suffers violence and only the violent can bear it away. Those who do violence to their own natures by taking religious vows must expect some repercussions, but these lose some of their force if they are discussed with frankness, tact, and objectivity. The deprivation of the consolations of married love and of childbearing mugt affect sisters particularly; as a result of this inner conflict between natural instincts and the ideals of the religious life, some may unwittingly suffer a suc-cession of functional, as distinct from organic, illnesses. Atypical ~ase will find that she is becoming irritable and depressed; she finds her daily work an intolerable bur- ° den and her sisters' foibles which she previously ignored b~cbme opl~ressive to her. She loses her appetite, becomes thin, sleeps badly, and has palpitations and chest pains suggestive of heart disease. She may have to accept stronger temptations against purity. This is reminiscent of the yceriasriss o wf mhiacrhri emd alinfey, ams ahrarsi abgeeens peoxipn~etr_ie~ndc~ eo uatf tbeyr Labecoluetr ctqe.n8 At this stage in life the first long struggle is over, the couple have rea~he~l financial stability, and' the difficult years of having several babies in tie house have passed. Both partners see the first ~vidences of age, and, realizing that degenerative diseases will start"~within another decade, some will desperately seek the excitement of youth. They must face temptations to ihfidelity, pride, and avarice. In religion some experience a similar crisis. After ten years they reach a stage of achievement and the gecurity that comes from seniority, but they find that youth has im- 8Jacques Leclercq, Marriage a Great Sacrament (Fresno: ~,cademy Library Guild, 1953). perceptibly~ slipped ~away and' they ask themselves if their vocation is really the right way of life. If they can hold on bravely with the assistance of prayer and the syinph-thetic undergtanding of an enlightened superior, they will pass through the storm ~nto the calm and contentment of a well integrated religious life. The menopause brings the game stresses as it does for lay women, and sisters should be advised to expect~ hot flushes, headaches, irritability, and depressions. Many of 'these symptoms can be helped by treatment. Younger sisters can be reassur.ed about the problems of dysmenor-rhoea, and premenstrual, tension. It is probably not uncommon for religious and lay people to experiencd sexual feelings at the quiet_ times of recollecuon anffat commumon. Thxs was referred to'w~th characteristic delica.cy., by St. Te,resa. of Avila when asked for advice on the matter' by hdr brother Rodrigo who was making his first steps~'in the mystical lif$. She implied that she also. had experienced t6~sefe~lings but that th~y disappeared when they were ignqred. "In God's design the happiness of the married life must be a pale shadow of the ecstas~ of the mystical Union~oand similar physiologi~M reactions accompany each. If these factg are uriderstood, there will be less distress for gqddlbeople who liave th~se otherwise d.is.turbing e~pe~iences. Obedience presents so many problems that the only unfailing guides are the'vi'rt~es of prudence and ~ha~ity. It is a necessary vow l~c~use only an austere':discipllne can lead to the full development of the strong personality which will accept sacrifices and will persevere in the re-ligiou~ vocatidn. It is falsely applied, however, if it de: stroys a sense of personal responsibility and initiative and if the command seems'to be an insult to the human dignity Of the subj~.kt. The essence of obedience is the surrender of the will; it is impgssible to surrender the intellect. It is unfortunate that an ekample of Obedience commonly quoted is that of St. Francis of Assisi who planted cabbages upside down. The saint is to be admired but not necessarily emulated. A young novice saw his master of novices scattering his carefully swept rubbish about the yard. When taked with untidiness, his acciden-tally acquired knowledge enabled him to accept the rebuke with apparent humility. If he had protested, his future in religion might have been prejudiced. It should be pos-sible to test virtue without having recourse to methods involving injustice, untruth; or deviations from the rule of charity. The end result of imposing an unre'asonable obedience is the fostering of immaturity in subjects and the formation of a type of religious who is almost inca-pable of making simple decision's or arranging anything outside the narrow cgmpass of his daily life. This is what 4, PPsryocbhloel~ongsical VOLUME 20, 1961 85 ÷ ÷ ÷ John B. Wain, M.D. REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOU$ 86 irreverent clerics refei: to as "holy helplessness." The re-ligious life should ensourage the flowering of the com-plete personality in imitation of Christ and our Lady; it s ould produce'cultured.men and women, full of grace, strength, and inner peace. In this connection it is often stated that in religion men find their personalities while women lose theirs. Why should there be this difference? Many avoidable burdens arise from an undue rigidity of ttfe rule. A certain flexibility is desirable to adapt European customs to hfe ~n~ other geographical areas and-to make allowance for the changes of circumstances that" characterize the twentieth century. A sister I kno~ was unable to read the Confessions of St. Augustine be-cause the rule forbade taking books'from the public li-brary. This typ.e of r~striction exposes religious life t6 ridi-cule. Neither would the dignity of sisters suffer if they were to eat in public and to travel alone. There are certain physiological norms which the average "i~erson must bbey; accordingly, it should be the rule for mgst religious to have a minimum of seven hours sleep and not to work for more than twelve hours a d.ay ~(including in this the time necessary for the proper fulfilment of the prescribed religious and spiritual exer'cises of each da~). ~When recreation is tak.en, some relaxation of the artifi- 'ciality which has obtained in the past would do much good and would not harm the spirit of the 6rder or congrega-tion. Particular friendships ha,~e tr~ditionaliy been pro-scribed, bht this should not exclude those i~atural affinities which are felt by compatible personalities. These if fos-tered are a great consolation" to the parties and would not destroy the unity of the group, nor would they develop into a sinister relationship. Our Lord Himself encouraged a close friendship with St. John. , With the exception of enclosed 9rd~ers, ~ome reasonable access of parents to children "c'ould.~ well be encouraged, especially in times of illness oOr death. A regulation whereby a religious may not go to his~own parent's fun.eral, but may go to anyone else's, could well be rescinded. A1- "though the habit is only a small a~pect of cbnventual life, -somre lessons can;be drawn fro~a.]t. While possessing a certain antique charm, it is indicht~ive. ,of an orientation towards the past; and to those outside thd Ch~:~rch it sug-gests that the wearers do n_ot face up to and take part in modern life. The other n0t_able f~& is tha( the request of Pope Plus XII for modernisation of the habit fell to a grea{ extent upon deaf ears. Apart from some minor ad-justments which are obvious only to the initiate, the dress is unchanged. This is largely because of the innate con; servatism of women and the fakul.{y of fiabituat]o~n;o eact one thinks that members o,f every o.ther community a.nd the Salvation Army~look absurd. The times call for re-jection of the whole concept of what a religious habit should be and the deyelopment of a new dress. Just as clerics have rightly abandoned tonsure, so the cutting of the hair of religious~r~men could be restricted to a token or symbolical gesture, find the headdress discarded. Some nursing sisters with covered' ears are almost unable, to take blood pressure r.eadings Or t'6" i]]te~ to the fetal "l~eart. "Dur-ing the recent war priests in the armed services did not suffer loss of dignity fr6m adopting officer's dress; on the other hand, the pri,est workers"went too far in their adap-tation. In the stress of mc~dern living regular alternation of activity and rest is necessary; therefore annual holidays should be provided for. Only very wooden personalities can go bn for years withoiat variation in their routine of life. Much of the stress of the religious life results from at-tenipting to do too much, working too long, and being sent out on active duties with insufficient training. The Sister Formation Conferences"aim to correct this latter undesir-able trend. Al-though it may cause a temporary shortage of persorinE1, it mustpay dividends in the long run. The laborers have been too few since Christ first uttered th~se words, butrushing r~ligious through their training will not solve the eternal problem. The Church has tradi- (ionally been a bad employer, and the worst sufferers have been religious themselves. Their services are so valuable that they should have better welfare services than other employers progide. In this corine'ction it is both amusing and instructive to recall St. Teresa's chiding 6ur Lord for her misfortunes: "Is it any Wonder, Lord, that You have so few friends when people see h6w badly you treat ~tour chosen ones!" The beneficent influence of good art, even on unsophis-ticated rrlinds, is rarely ~u~ilized; it is common to see a poor standard of iriterior decoration, and pictorial art in convents and rectories, even though church architecture has advanced to a gratifying degree. A reasonable access to secular literfiture would not be harmful if it broadens the experience of religious and gives them some wider a~- preciation of the problems their pupils must face when they leave school. Those assigned to menial tasks should have some e'asily attainable goals arranged for them so that their spirits will not be crushed by monotony and by the lack of any evidence of achievement. ~uperiors have :the additional, worry of finance, ad-ministratiofi, and personnel management, for which they have Usually received no training. With only native common serise as a guide, they must learn with a trial and error method. One way to lift this secular burden would be to provide experienced lay advisers so" that the superior, could concentrate on his apostolate; this would, o~ course, involve som~ surrender of autonomy. A common error is to attribute fieurotic behavior to ÷ ÷ ÷ Psychological Problems VOLUME 20, 1961 '4. '4. ,4. John B. Wain, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 88 a poor spiritual life~ and by that same token to expect that a more intense spiritual life'wilL cure a neurosis. A teaching brother was seen to change from a happy, agree-able person to one who was morose, withdrawn, and sus-picious. He went 'to the sacraments only infrequently and was given to outbursts of anger with his pupils. He was advised oto pray more, but this was expecting a miracle from grace. His main need was for .psychiatric treatment, which disclosed that his father had died in circumstances which he had always suspected were suicidal. He found himself having strange compulsive feelings when he looked out 'of high windows, and then he became scrupulous about matters of purity which he would normally have ignored. In the dark night of his soul, he felt abandoned by God and his community. With proper psychotherapy he recovered. Is this problem worth making a fuss about? Some would say that the status quo should be preserved; that the trials of religious life are the crosses which God in-tends for these souls; that He chooses the weak and foolish things of this world to confound the wise; that, according to Thurston,4 many of the saints and stigmatics were neurotics; that the command of the superior is God's will for the subject; and that in his handling of the prob-lems of his community the superior is given the grace of st.ate.All these arguments imply that infallibility is a widely diffused gift instead of a very limited one. In ac-cepting everything as God's will, people rarely draw,the distinction between His direct will and His permissive will, and therefore they do not admit that there can be mistakes or blunders in religious decisions. Is it impertinent for the layman to speak when he has no firsthand knowledge of religious life? In the spiritual health of the Mystical Body the layman is vitally con-cerned; moreover he is looking ahead to the welfare of his own children if and when they perceive a calling to enter religion. An investigation into the religious psy chological environment on a diocesan basis would produce fruitful results, but it would have to be undertaken a~ a cathartic exercise. The best religious, whose opinions, would be of the greatest value, are the very ones who l would count it a virtue to remain silent and unco.mplain-~ ing. How to integrate democratic processes into an author-I itarian governing structure is a difficult problem. C0nsid-I eration of all these factors influencing mental stabilityI renews our admiration for the great numbers of altruistici men and women who gaily sacrifice so many of the goodl things of life to make the total gift of themselves to God.I ~Herbert Thurston, s.J., The Physical Phenomena o! Mysticism (Chicago: Regnery, 1952). HENRY WILLMERING, SiJ. Charles Felix Van Q ickenborne "Father Charles van Quickenborne," writes Father Peter de Smet, "was the first Jesuit priest who appeared in the valley of the Misissippi after the reestablishment of the Society of Jesus. He was a.man full of zeal.for the salva-tion of souls. The conversion of the Indians w~as, impar-ticular; 'the object of his predilection and of his prayers. Long will his name be held in benediction, and his mem-ory celebrated in the places which h;id the happiness of receiving the fruits of his numerous labors,, and of his truly apostolic virtues." This commendation is from the pen of one of the seven novices who accompanied Father van Quickenborne to Missouri in 1823 to establish the nucleus of the Society of Jesus in the Middle West. Two years before, Peterde Smet and six Companions left their' native Belgium secretly to becomemissionaries to the Indians in North America. For this purpose they entered the Society in October, 1821, at Whitemarsh, Maryland, where shortly before Father van Quickenborne had been appointed master of novices. Unforeseen circumstances brought the group to the Indian country before their period of.probation was completed. The Right Reverend Louis Dubourg, bishop of' New Orleans and Upper Louisiana, had many'Indian tribes residing in his vast diocese, and he was anxiously seeking for missionaries to convert them. The success of the Jesuits in this work before the suppression of the Society prompted him to appeal to the Father General of the Society for ;help. He made a like appeal to the Superior of the Maryland mission and offered as an inducement the gift of a large, productive farm not far from the growing city of St. Louis. With the scanty number of available priests at their disposal, it seemed impossible to promise the bishop any help in the near future. Then Divine Providence intervened. In 1823 the finan, cial difficulties of every house" in the Maryland mission ÷ ÷ The Reverend Henry Willmering, Associate Editor of the REVIEW is stationed at St. Mary'S College, St. Marys~ Kansas. ~ VOLUME 20, 1961 89 REVIEWFORRELIGIOUS became so acute that the superior and his consultors seriously considered clo~ing the Whitemarsh novitiate and dismissing the novices. When told of this decision, Father van Quickenborne reminded the superior of Bishop Du-bourg's offer and of the readiness of himself and his novices to go to the Indian territory and work for the conversion of the natives. Accordingly, a concordat was entered into between the Bishop of New Orleans and Father Charles Neale, Supe_rior of the Maryland Province, to establish a novitiate of the Society at Florissant, Missouri, on condi-tion that, after the no,~i~es finished their spiritual and theological training, they would devote themselves to the apostolate of the Indians. The exodus from Whitemarsh was in the spring of 1823. The party consisted of two priests, seven novices, three lay-brothers, and three families of negro slaves. Two wagons carried the baggage across, the mountains to Wheeling on the. Ohio River. The young mi_ssionaries made the journey on foot across the Alleghenies. In Wheel- Ang they procured two flat boats; on one of them they placed the negroes and baggage, while the other served them as their 'floating.monastery.' They-drifted down the river day and night, stopping only to procure provisions. Religious exercises were. continued during the voyage as circumstances allowed. At Louisville, Kentucky, they landed their baggage, and a local pilot directed their craft over the falls of the river. At the foot of the falls they re-embarked and continued their river trip as far as, Shawnee-town, Illinois, Thence the missionaries made the last 150 miles through swamp land on foot, while a river,s_teamer carried ~their baggage, upstream to St. Louis, where they arrived on the last day of May. The entire trip lasted ,fifty days. " o The-homestead, which they were to inhabit on the, out- ,skirts of the village of Florissant, was a wretched log cabin, with a single room, measuring sixteen by eighteen feet, arid surmounted by a gable roof, so low that one could' not stand erect in,the attic beneath it. At a short distance from the house were ~two sheds, one had served as a pig pen/the other as a tool shed. The newcomers ~ere a bit disap-pointed, to find such primitive quarters, and the hardships encountered during the first few months"proved to,, be too great.for one novice andoaqay-brother~ who left during the summer of 1823. The others adapted themselves to the situation in a truly religious and missionary spirit.,The six noyices and two lay-brothers slept on the floor of the attic, while the single, room below was divided by a cur-tain, ,one side .being reserved as. the domestic chapel, the other as the living room for the priests. The.first shed was by turns study hall, classroom and r~fectory; the second served as kitchen and domicile for the negroes. ,, Much greater~ would .have been~the discomfort of.the Jesuit ,~communit'y had not Divine Providence assisted them through the generosity of~,Blessed Philippine Du-chesne and:her community. °The Religious of the Sacred ,Heart had moved to'Flonssant tliree years earher?~where they condudted a small boarding schbol.Often they de; prived themselves of what little they had to send it to:their neighbors. Furnithre, bedding, cooking utensils~.and~pro-visions were generously offered to the' Fathers and novices during the~,first~evere wifiter. ' "~ To relieve the acfite housing problem, the Jesuits ~be-gan work.immediately by collectin~building'ma_terials. Stone wag procured from a nearby quai-ry, timber,was cut and shaped, and when Ml,was ready a.,second.story, and spacious annex were added to the house. Ttiese hard~,and continuous .activities h~ever interrupted the ~spirituab ex-ercisEs. of the novitiate; but the.cold weather.and frequent snow storms put. a stop~to,~the labor till spring. Tl~e new additions were completed in June, and~ after thednterior ~had been remodelled, life became more bearable. . . -'Th( leader and guiding spirit of~this enterprise was a man,thirty-five years of age. Charles Felix_van Quicken-borne was,born in the village of Peteghem,'twelve miles w~st'of Ghent, on January 21;, 1788. His first studieswere made in Deynze; "then he attended the academy in Ghent, and finally entered the diocesan seminary in thatl city. From the first h.i~ talents and application~merited high praise. He was ordainedto the priesthood in 1812, and was appointed to teach the classics in the preparatory semi-nary of Roeselare: When, shortly after, Napoleon,,closed allthe seminaries in:F.tafiders and drhfted the stu'dents of military age, Father .Charles Was appointed vicar of the large ~Zalloon parish',of St. Denijs near Coutrais. Being guided by the wise counsels of the sain~tly dean, Frans Corselis, whose virtues he often-ext011ed, to'his novices,in later.years, Father Charles, administered the parish .@ith great success, and,the peopl~e were sorry to, see him resign his charge in.order-to enter the newly opened. Jesuit novitiate at Rumbeke. He arrived there on April 14, 1815. A hostile Dutch govei'nment drove the novice~from "this quiet retreat shortly after, but they were" given shelter by'the highly esteemed Bishop of Ghent, Maurice de Broglie, who placed his episcopal.residence at DistOlber-gen, on the outskitts of Ghent, at their disposal; and there Father Charles finished his two years 6f probation.:~He pronounced his first .vows as a Jesuit in April, A817 . ' Having read the account of .the Reductions of Paraguay, the'young Jesuit~ was eager to go to North America and de-vote his life to the conversion of- the Indians/Even as a novice he begged Father General, Thaddaeus';Brz0zoW-ski, for this~mission. Instead he was assigned~to teach othe Henry W il imering, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 92 classics in th~ academy~of Roesalare, which appointment he received with resignation to the divine will. Then, un-expectedly, he was given permission to go to America. He. lost no time in making his preparations, and during the last week of October, 1817, he set sail for the United States and arrived, in. Baltimore towards the end of December. His first year in America was spent learning English at Georgetown College. Then came the appointment as master of novices. We can imagine with what trepidation he assumed this responsible office, he who but two years before had completed his own novitiate. He realized.fully his inexperience and knew that he was better fitted to do missionary work. But once again he resigned himself to God's will and trusted that help from above would not be wanting to him. In November, 1819, the novices were moved from Georgetown to Whitemarsh, Maryland. There, in addition to being novice master, Father Charles was the superior of the community, manager of a large plantation and of the negroes who worked it, missionary to the surrounding communities, carpenter, mason and builder. He erected a handsome stone church on the no-vitiate grounds and built a brick church at Annap01is, At the latter place, he said Mass every fortnight. He was known to visit regularly the sick and poor of the vicinity and devoted considerable time to the instruction of the negroes. For a while he attended to these multiple duties alone, but later he received a faithful helper in the person of Father~ Peter Timmermans, also a Belgian, and a most amiable and humble priest. He came to America with Father Charles Nerinckx in 1817, and entered the Society of, J~sus that same year. Father Peter took charge of the novices whenever Father Charles went on. one of his many missionary expeditions. In 1821, Father Nerinckx re-turned after a second trip to Eurbpe with another group of Belgian students, seven of whom entered the Society at Whitemarsh, and were the group who migrated to Floris-sant, where they pronounced their first vows on October 10, 1823. On finishihg the novitiate, they immediately began the study of.philosophy. One of their number, Peter Ver-haegen, had nearly completed all his seminary studies at Mechlin before coming to America. Accordingly he was appointed to assist Father van Quickenborne as instructor. Due to a lack of textbooks, the course in philosophy was rather superficial and was brought to a close with a public disputation in August, 1824. Two months earlier, on Mgy 31, Father Peter Timmer-marts died. This left Father Charles as the only priest at the Florissant mission. The multiple duties he had taken upon himself at Whitemarsh were again thrust upon him. Here, ~too, he was superior of the.community, chaplain and confessor for the,Religious of the Sacred0Heart, pastor of foti~ parishes, those of Florissant, St. Charles, Dardenne and Portage des Sioux, instructor of philosophy, manager of a large farm, and buildSr:"N0 wonder that~ h~ was prostrated by repeated spells of sickness. 'Yet he never spared himself, and when duty called, he went out, no matter how bad he felt. Many urgent calls for help were sent to Rome and Maryland; yet it was only after a year and five months, when the superior was near death,~ that help came in the .person of Father Theodore de Theux. In October, 1824, the scholastics began the study, of theology. The superior .had no choice but to appoint~ Peter Verhaegen instructor of dogma, and John Elet in-, structor of Sacred Scripture, while he reserved for himself, the courses in moral and pastoral theology. Needless to say, this arrangement was very :unsatisfactory to all con-cerned. After the arrival of Father de ~heux, matters im-proved a little since he took over the courses.in dogma and scripture. The first to be ordained, early-in 1826, were John Baptist Smedts and Peter Verhaegen. The following year the superior of Maryland visited the mission, where he held a comprehensive examination of all the candidates in theology, after which the remaining four were ordained just before the Christmas: holid_ays, in 1827, by Bishop Joseph Rosati, in the church at Florissant. The last period of a Jesuit's training, the third year of probation, wa_s made by all during the first half of 1828. On the eighth.of January they began the thirty day retreat under the direction of Father van Quickenborne who, in the peculiar circumstances, was~both tertian and tertian master. The retreat closed on February 7, and a few days later each tertian was assigned to give ,a retreat, a mis-sion, or take charge of a parish for one month. On their return .to Florissant, Father, Charles explained the Con-stitutions of.the Society, commented on the decrees of gen-eral congregations, and pointed out the approved methods of giving the Spiritual Exercises. One of the tertians praised very highly the quality and practical nature of these instructions. The tertianship ended on July.31, feast of St. Ignatius Loyola. Meanwhile, their purpose in coming to the West was by no means forgotten. True, the promise to send mission-armies to the Indian country within two years could not be kept, due partially at least to the untimely death of Father Timmermans, and more particularly to the fact that no additional priests came from Europe or Ma.ryland. A be-ginning, however, was made-when in 1824 Father Charles opened a school for Indian boys and Mother Duchesne started one for Indian girls. These two schools continued for a period of nearly seven years, and the progress made Fan O.uidumborne VOLUME 20, 1'961 ÷ ÷ ÷ Henry Wilimering, SJ. R~:VIEW FOR RELIGIOUS by the pupils~in Jearning :and piety merited favorable comments from visitors and also from :the Indiafi agents. But when' the pupils ,returned.to their tr.ibes; the.y wer~e deprived of all 'spiritual help and were' exposed to the superstitions and immorality' of (heir, people, and thus~ much of the ti'ainingo received at school was lost, To forestall this~'danger, Father Charles formulated a~ plan, patterned on the famous Reductions'of. Paraguay, of establishing Catholic Indian villages. Congress would be asked to appropriate a sum that would buy six thousand acres of land on the. outskirts of an Indian' settlement. Boys who graduated from 'the Jesuit school should' marry girls trained by the nuns. These couples would be given house and farm in the proposed village. The Indian agent should furnish the agricultural implements. One or two missionaries would live in the viIlage,' and care for the spiritual needs but al'so supervise the work done. The plan was approved by the president, but not by' Congress; so it was never realized b~ Father van Quickenborne. . .The failure of the Indian schools discouraged a number of the community, but not Father van Quickenborne, nor Father de Smet, Father Charles made two exploratory visits to the Indian country, the first in 1827; the second in the following year. On these journeys he addressed a num-ber of Osage and Iowa chiefs, baptized many infants, and made inquiries about starting missions among their peo-ple. When he ~found them favorable to his plans, he promised to send them. priests in the near future. He was eager to undertake the establishment of the~first mission himself, but another event intervehed whith thr'eatehed to delay the ope_ning of a.permanent Indihn mission for several years to come. -'o. Bishop Dubourg had opened a college in St. Louis 'in 1818, which had: a~ver~ precarious existence. No sooner had the Jesuits arrived in Missouri than an offer was made to'them to staff"the college; yet, until the six schoiastics were 6rdairied, this.was out of the question: In 1826 this college held its last session. At this point Bishop gosati; who had befriended the community gt Fl'orissant' from the start, again" urged that a new college be built and managed by the Jesuits, for which purpose' he offered ~a suitable plot of ~round just outside the city;' which had been donated to the bishop by Jeremiah Connors. As soon" as Father van Quiekenborne obtained permission from Rome,~ he started :building; and even before the structure was completed,' classes opened .on' November '2, 1829~ Father Verhae~e'n was appointed the first president, who with ~two other Fathers and afew externs (aughtten~ boarders .and thirty day scholars; but~within a few weeks' gime, the boarders increased "to thirty a~id the day scholars to 6ne hundred and twenty; During th6 first two years, the courses offered were those of a grammar school: In 1830,~.a course in Latin was added, and in 1832,.one in Greek. Father van Quickenborne _taught the Latin clas.s, Father de Theux, the Greek. When,the faculty was re-inforced by several priests and sc~holastics from :.Maryland, the school _quickly reached college lev~el, and in 1832, Father Verhaegen obtained,°by special act of the.Missouri legislature, a~ charter for the school un.der the title of 'St. Louis University,' with all the rights and prerogatives of a university. According to the terms of the concordat,of 1823, the Jesuits of Florissant were entrusted with the spiritual care of all Catholic families living in ce.ntral and northeastern Missouri. In 1828, Father Verreydt °was assign~ed, to. this work, which he carried.out witti~exemplary zeal. But.~n 1.830, Father van Quickenborne was~succeeded as superior of. the Missouri mission by Father de Theux; and' for the first time Father Charles seemed free to~ carry out his favorite project, to start a permanent mission among the Indians. Instead, he was told to take over Father Verreydt's missionary work. The reason for this is given by Father Garraghan, in The Jesuits o[ the Middle West: "The truth is that ~good Father van Quickenborne,' as his .Jesuit associat_es were fond of characterizing him, was a difficult_ person with whom towork. His zeal was boundless, with much about it of the heroic; his devotion to the cause of the In_dians, unflagging; , his personal piety, obvious to all;,but along with his in certain respects surpassing equipment as a missionary went limitations of temperament that unfitted him in,many ways to work successfully by the side of others. In° the social virtues he was often d%ficient. Silent, secretive, depressed and often gloomy in countenance, with a tendency to melancholy, despising personal com-forts an.d refusing them to others, difficult and exacting in business relations, not inviting confidence and, seldom winning it, he stood in many ways isolated from his fellow workers, a somewhat lonelyfigure in tl~e little Jesuit world in which he moved.''1 So great was his desire for living with. the Indians, and so persistent his'requests to his superiors, that finally in 1836:he was permitted to open a mission among the Kicka-poo. The previous summer he had made an :exploratory~ visit to the ~various tribes living nearest~the western bor-o ders of Missouriand0had come to the conclusion that the Kickapoo were the most eager., to embrace Christianity. In the fall,.he journeyed to Washington and contacted the 3ecretary of War, Lewis Cass, who authorized himto start 1 Gilbert J~ Garr~aghan, S.J., The Jesuit~ "of the Middle Unite~l $tates (New York: Anierica Press, 1938), Vol. I, p. 384. Van ~/~,o~ VOLUME 20, 1961 95 ÷ ÷ ÷ Henry Willmering, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 96 a~school among the Kickapoo and promised a subsidy of $500 a year to maintain it. After making a begging tour the 'East, which netted about $1500, Father Charles was ready to open a mission a few miles above Fort Leaven-worth. He was assisted in this project by Father Christian Hoecken, and three lay-brothers, Andrew Mazella, Ed-mund Barry, and George Miles. The missionaries met with a cordial reception from the chiefs and people. A French trader, who lived with the tribe, put his house at their disposal, until they should build their own. Hardly had they settled down in their new quarters, when both priests were stricken with ill-ness. Father Charles had to stay in bed for a month. Worse yet, the Indian agent, Richard Cummings, would not permit' the Jesuits to build in the Kickapoo village. Not until General Clark sent word from St. Louis that permission had been given by Secretary Lewis Cass build ~a school among the Kickapoo, could the Jesuits erect a school, chapel, and residence. The head chief of the tribe, Pashishi, professed great eagerness to have the missionaries instruct the children and work for the conversion of his people. His influence, however; was considerably less than that of a notorious 'prophet,' named Kennekuk, who claimed to have received authority from the Great Spirit tostart a religion of own. For a while he manifested some interest in the teach-ings of Christianity but soon roused his followers to un-friendly demonstrations. He had so firm a hold on the minds of his people that once he took a hostile attitude toward the Jesuit missionaries, all hope of converting the tribe vanished. Two years of unremitting toil made very little impression on the Kickapoo, and neighboring tribes were so eager to have the missionaries teach their children that the former mission was abandoned and new one opened among the Pottawatomi, which proved eminently successful. But Father van Quickenborne was destined to have no part in it. His failing health and rigid disposition caused his superior to recall him in July, 1837. After a brief stay at St. Louis University, he went to Florissant to make his annual retreat. Next he proceeded to St. Charles and thence to Portage des Sioux, a village situated a few miles, north of St. Charles and near the junction of the Missouri~ and Mississippi rivers. Here he exchanged places with Father Verreydt, who went to the Indian country, while Father Charles became pastoy of this small parish. He had been only a few days in Portage when a bilious fever seized him. The last sacraments were administered to him, and on August 17, 1837, he breathed his last. His body, ac-companied by many parishioners, was interred in the cemetery in St. Charles but was later removed to the novitiate cemetery in Florissant. Father van Quickenborne was in a true sense a pioneer missionary, who labored zealously during fourteen years for the spiritual interests of both whites and Indians. Those who knew him intimately comment on his clear and orderly mind, his fluency in several languages, his accurate knowledge of theology, his eloquent discourses. He never spared himself in his efforts to assist others, and despite the rigorous attitude he at times assumed towards others, he was loved and admired by all who knew him. Since he trained the first members of the Missouri mission all by himself, he can justly be called the founder of the Jesuit establishments in the Midwest. The mission which he started became a vice-province in 1840, a province in 1863, which was divided into two provinces in 1928, and both: were again subdivided in 1955. These four provinces today have a total membership of more than 2500. They administer seven universities, ten colleges, twelve high schools, and eight retreat houses, and there are more than three hundred members in foreign mission work. John Gilmary Shea, the great historian of the North American missions, says: "To Father van Quickenborne, as founder of the vice-province of Missouri and its Indian missions, too little honor has been paid. His name is al-most unknown, ~yet few have contributed more to the edification of the white and the civilization of the red man, to the sanctification of all.''~ ~John Gilmary Shea, History o] the Catholic Missions among the Indian Tribes o] the United States, 1529-1854 (New York: Edward -Dunigan and Brother, 1855), p. 466. + + + ~'an Qugckenbome VOLUME 20, 1961 97 JOHN E. BECKER,S. J. We Have Seen His Glory: The Prologue to St. John ÷ ÷ .÷ John E. Becker, S.J., St. Mary's Colleg.e, St. Marys, Kansas, ~s an assistant editor of the REVtEW. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 98 In the beginning God created, heaven and earth In the beginning was the Word God's immense knowledge includes within itself His own infinite nature and all of the reality which He has given us and with which He surrounds us. Yet it is but one eternal and unchanging truth in God's mind. And when-ever He speaks, He speaks that one truth, Himself. But it is impossible for God to speak this immense truth, in the simple way He understands it, to our poor time-bound minds. We cannot grasp things in simplicity. We need more than to hear a truth. We need to be taught it, to have our minds brought up to it, educated to it. This is true of each of us individually. Over and over, we must be told the truths about God. We must be taught them at each point in our growth. Finally they begin to dawn for us in our minds as our own secure convictions. But the education that we as individuals go through depends upon another education which is just as impor-tant, and without which we ourselves would never have learned ab6ut God. This bther education is the education of our race, the race of men. We have learned many things about nature, but we have learned them together, the giants of the past teaching the giants of today, and they in their turn handing on their knowledge to tomorrow's giants. Our knowledge is passed on in ever-increasing rich-ness from generation to generation. Simply the mere pass-ing it on occupies many thousands of men and women for whole lifetimes as teachers, and the learning of it fills all the years of our lives, in school and out. This need man has to be educated through centuries of time is a part of him that he cannot escape. The great- est genius can only teach men what their minds have been prepared to grasp. And God, who made us this way, ~must speak to us, too, and teach us in tl~e gradual way that He has made necessary to us. So His divine revelation is a progressing and developing education of the human race. It bridges over the immense gap .between our time-bound and intricate minds and God's timeless simplicity. By His own choice He speaks eternal and immense thoughts to us in fragments communicated throughout time and space. It is a lesson in God's fatherly care for us to know that He has done it with such infinite and careful patience. How has He done it? Among a chosen people at the beginning of the story of our salvation, He planted,a seed of a thought: "In the beginning.God created heaven and earth." The thought is the thought of the one God who made all things. And these people fought and died, sub fered, rejected the truth, and repented through centuries: of history to pres.erve that seed and foster its growth. And through centuries God builds on this tiny germ of truth, constantly stretching the faith of His people by new reve-lations, always prep~aring them to accept the full flowering. of .that seed in~ the great, final revelation of Himself that will take place in the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then, when the fullness of revelation had come down to the earth and walked it, a~s a Divine Person, God inspired St. John to begin the record of this marvelous event with a magnificent poetic vision showiiag us how God had~been patient all these years, patiently teaching, correcting; educating, stretching faith to accept this cli-mactic revelation of the immense truth about God. By beginning his gospel with the ancient words of the book of Genesis, St. John shows us that through all these cen-turies of revelation God has spoken but one sentence. And though his gospel is to be a record of new and ultimate revelations.made by Christ our Lord, still how careful St; John is to show us that each new truth that appears is really nothing new or changed about God. Rather, it is a new insight and a richer knowledge of that immense and inexhaustible reality which is the one God who begins His Sacred Scripture and who brings it to an end. In the beginning was the Wor, d And the Word was with God And He was God, this Word He was at the beginning with God How did God go about this marvelous education of the Jews? How did He prepare them, and what was it He pre- ~a~ed them to accept? We have alw~iys known that throtig~ those long years of threats and tender promises God nurs~ed in them the knowledge that He was One, the God ÷ ÷ ÷ Prologue to St. lohn VOLUME 20, 1961 99 + + ÷ gohn E. Becket, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]oo of all nations, the God that had no rival gods. But there: was more to His teaching about Himself than this. We had to know more than His oneness, or we could never ap-preciate the redemption by which He was to save us. We had to be able to accept the reality of Another, alsoGod, the same God, in order to recognize the infinite love that God would show in coming to be one of us. Even in the Old Testament God was preparing us to accept the su-preme mystery of the most Blessed Trinity. Over centuries of time God prepared mankind, with hints and mysterious intimations, to accept this other per-son. First, He taught His people the Law. But He taught it in such a way that it became for them, under the guid-ance of their inspired teachers, more than just a rule of life. They thought more and more of the Law as another being, ordering and governing the whole universe, some-how existing in its own right. God's inspired writers spoke too of Wisdom; and again His people, receiving with faith the guidance which God gave them through their teachers, began to think of this divine Wisdom as something distinct from God, sent by Him upon the earth: "The Lord possessed me. in the beginning of his ways. I was set up from eternity., the depths were not as yet, and I was already conceived. Wisdom is with thee, which knoweth thy works. All wisdom is from the Lord God, and hath been always with him. I came out of the mouth of the most High. From the beginning and before the world, was I created . " In two texts of Scrip-tures especially we can see how God led His inspired writ-ers toward the culminating simplicity of St. John's revela-tion of the Word: "While all things were in quiet silence, and the night was in the midst of her course, thy almighty Word leapt down from heaven from thy royal throne, as a fierce conqueror into the midst of the land of destruc-tion. With a sharp sword carrying thy unfeigned com-mandment, and he stood and filled all things with death, and standing on the earth reached even to heaven"(Wis 18:14-16). And even closer to the full clarity of St. John was this from Isaiah: "As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and return no more thither, but soak the earth, ~tnd water it and make it to spring., so shall my Word be, which shall go forth from my mouth: it shall not return to me void, but it shall do whatsoever I please, and shall prosper in the things for which I sent it" (55:10). Our Lord's life on earth took place during an age of intense religious uncertainty and desperate religious quest. But it is strangely enough true that almost every groping philosophy of the time centered around a principle called the Word. It was almosta magic formula. To the Stoic it meant the mind of God whose strong sunlight was divided into little sparks which were the minds of individual men. To Philo, a Jewish gentile philosopher, it was a person who pervaded all God's activity, and all the creatures of God's activity. To all the philosophers it was the one principle of order in the chaQs o~f. the world.~ Of, course, the Jews knew that God had made all creation by His mere word. God's ~word had always been an infinitely powerful thing in their minds. Now when St. John calls Christ our Lord the Word, he proves the validity of God's long and careful education of the human race toward faith,in the Word of God. It is a sad and fr_ightening realization for all of us that so maony of God's,chosen race failed to respond with the faith God had so carefully prepared" them for. In a probing vision of faith, St. John realized that the pagans with their philosophies Of the Word meant, if they could but see it, Christ;. that the Jews with their devotion to the Law, to Wisdom, to God's almighty word, had been educated to know the eternal Word. Because of this deep insight of supernatural faith, the abstract, eternal, and unchanging i'eality demanded by the minds of the pagan philosophers and the concrete, changing, and temporal reality forced upon their senses were reconciled into one truth. St. John's gospel stands alone for seeing the eternity, the infinity,, the timeless immensity of God walking in the finite flesh of our Lord. The single human actions of His life are put into a story in which we can also see that these are eternal ac.tions, of eternal worth, universal and eternal in mean- .ing. All history becomes in this vision not so much a thing of time but a phase of eternity. We see through the lens of an inspired faith that human life takes place in more than material dimensions. Christ's daily life is the eternal God teaching by action the eternal truths in the tiny dimen-sions of time. Our life becomes, in spite of its abrupt be-ginning and abrupt end, an eternally rewarded effort to learn and put into practice these eternal truths. Through the lens of this vision we see that the impor-tant beginning of this history of salvation was not in time, was not on a hillside of Nazareth, Bethlehem, or Calvary. The real beginning of the life story of Christ our Lord and of the life of man in God was not His.virginal conception, nor His birth in a cave, nor His baptism at the Jordan, but eternity with God: He was in the beginning with God. Everything was made by Him, And without Him was made nothing. Even when we recognize that the beginning of our sal-vation is back in the far reaches of divine eternity, in the Word who was with God, and even when we see that God has been preparing us for centuries to accept this fact, we 4. + + Prologue to St. John VOLUME 20, 1961 10] John E. Becket, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS have yet to appreciate how intimate a part this divine Word has played in the very creation of our world, and even in the divine education which wehave received. God fixed His eye on the eternal Word as He spoke the words of creation. All God's creatures were ordered according the Word's divine ordination: All the laws of their were made on the pattern of the Word. This is much the case that when we study the divine order creation, the laws of molecular structure, of the develop-ment of phyla, its supremely rich but ordered abundance, we are studying the natural phrases and sentences of God's eternal Word. Without Him was made nothing; nothing escapes His ordering power not even the man who sins. We would think that the sinner, having deliberately stepped outside this divine order, would have lost the privilege of participating in the guidance of God. though we may sin, we cannot step aside from God. The original sin of Adam and all that sequel of human which ratifies that original disorder sewn in our nature Adam, furnishes but the occasion for the Word of God be spoken ag~iin. Through Him all 'things were made. Now, on account of sin, He is spoken in a new way that binds Him even more intimately to his now sinful crea-tion, for: That.which was made in Him was li[e, And the life was the light of men, And the light, in the shadows, shown, And the shadows did not put it out. As once all things were created by the Word, now a new thing is created in Him: That which was made in Him life. Man has sinned, and so the Word becomes the source of a new life for him: and the life was the light of men. The Word is not renewed. The old is not revived. But the Word is respoken in a new creation that more fully ex-presses it. Men find in Him now, not only the pattern their existence and their perfection, but the source of new life, a life which always existed for God, which was once given to them and lost, but which now exists again a reality for them. And the light, in the shadows, shown, and the shadows did not put it out. This new life which a light for men wins the Victory over man's darkness. We can follow th~se-threads of life, light, and darkness throughout the gospel of St. John. They are dominant colors in his message. God has'outdone His first gift us, natural created life, made by His Word, with a super-natural creation, with .a supernatural life also produced, but in His Word.~Adam's sin,made our human life shadowy life of undirected uncertainty and groping. Think of the vague yearnings of the Jewish people, and they were under the educating guidance of God; even' more, think of the pathetic religious foolishness of the pa.gan world whose nature religions could never free themselves from the orgiastic worship of the sex power. But our world, lost in the shadows of sin, is not lost to God. Rather than destroy,.it and' produce ~a n.ew, un-shadowed, sinless world through His Word, God builds a new life for us within the lost world. We live now in the Word. We find only one meaning of lile in St. John; the life of God communicated to men. Christ our Lord com-municated God's life to us by becoming one of us and remaining God. That is the story of St. John's gospel, of all the gospels. Christ assumed humanity to be able to suffer for our redemption, to be able to produce a new life for men. The flow of Divine Life which He injects into us is also, because of His teaching about God, a stream of light within us, who would otherwise be' groping in darkness toward an unknown deity. He has shown us clearly who the God is whom we must seek. And so the shadows on our uncertain consciences are dispelled, and we find ourselves on a clear road towards God, filled with confidence. Our human nature has been taken into the divinity, and God has produced for us there within Himself the new life which saves us from darkness and sin. There is no poem in English with such compleie sim-plicity of expression. Yet in these five verses we have dis-covered the whole history of God's dealings with us. They present us with an immense, vision which extends from the first moment of creation, through the Incarnation, to the end of time when men living in Christ will be gathered to Christ in the fullness of life. The whole history of our race is involved, yet we see it all from the vantage point of God'.soeternity and catch sight of what it means to call God's knowledge infinitely simple. It is all one eternal speaking of the Word by God: It first bears fruit in the creation of our material world; then in a new act of union with this world a new life is produced in it; this new life of supernatural union with God is finally to conduct us all to our final union with God in heaven for et.ernity. In this vision of faith, all history is a moment of eternity, a moment containing creation, divine union with man, and man's final reunion with God in eternity. There appeared a man sent [rom God: his name was John. He came [or a witness, to witness concerning the Light, so that all might believe through Him. He was not, this man, the Light, but [or a witness con-cerning the Light. Christ's precursor is but a man, rooted in the obvious dimensions of human time. He "is not near the stature of Christ. He happens, he appears; Christ is. He is not ÷ ÷ ÷ Prologue to St. ]oh.n VOLUME 20, 1961, 103 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]04 the light but only its witness. This brief, blunt, and prosaic interposition of a man within' our vision of eternity is an admonition to us, and a sign to us of the way St. John views reality. This simple prose in the midst of the poetry of eternity reminds us that we are never to let the human reality and the divine reality become separated in our minds. The life of Christ has fused the two for all eternity, and St. John is writing the story of that life. The simple historical surroundings and activities of Christ's life are making history, yet they go beyond history. The time-bound precursor of Christ is, by the decree of God, an eternally necessary, eternally important actor in God's redemptive drama. He is a sign to us that we too are eternally important, because we live with the life of the eternal Word. He was the true Light, Who enlightens every man Coming into the world. First there was God and the Word; then it is clear to us that the Word is God. The two are one. After all things are made through the Word, then supernatural Life is made in the Word, and this life is Light for men. Now again we reflect and realize that all these truths are drawn together into one truth in God. Life and Light, that which is produced in the Word, is really the Word; and the Word is God Himself, the source and goal of all our human life, natural and supernatural, the source and full enlightenment of all our knowledge, natural and su-pernatural. How does God, the Word, who is Life and Light in Himself become life and light for us? By coming into the world. We are fused with divinity when Christ takes human flesh so that the inaccessible light of eternity speaks in human words to Jews on the hillsides of Pales-tine and to all of us in the gospels; and the inaccessible life of eternity gives life to human tissues nourished from the body of Mary. And this divine-human talking and living is not over with. That once-and-for-all coming of the true Light into the world was the beginning of an unlimited number of comings. He comes now to each of us who will accept Him. He gives light, the teachings of His Church; and life, the sacramental life force which comes from His body through the ordained priesthood that He left behind Him. Light and life are in the Word because He is God; but light and life are given to man because that same Word has become man, made Himself available to man, placed Himself before us so that we may choose to unite ourselves to Him. There is no answering the question Why. We can only point to the strength of God's love. But if we ask why, we are uncovering, perhaps, false thoughts in our- selves. Have we ever realized how fully the Word had already involved Himself in the history and materiality of the world before He took this final step that brings Him visibly into the world? Why should we ask why to this last step? We should ask why'~t0 everything, not just to the Incarnation. God's eternal love has joined Himself to every moment of the world's existence. The Incarnation was simply the climax: In the world He was, And the world was made by Him And the world did not recognize Him Into His own He came And His own did not receive Him In the world He was from the first moment giving that moment and every succeeding moment its reality. The steady and balanced revolution of spinning worlds, and the quiet and inexorable change of seasons from death to life 'and.back to death and another life are His work and His teaching. He is the concurrent force, giving foufida-tion to the thoughts of the earliest'men and effectiveness to all their desires, holy or perverse. But the forceful message of all this rich physical reality is not heard. Though anything, simply because it exists, speaks of, the presence of God the creator, the fa~t Of creation failed to penetrate the darkness of immorality and sin that kept men "from recognizing the world as the words of God's eternal Word. God's Word speaks in a new way, trying by a new means to attract man's wayward attention. He chooses a man, Abraham, and tells the man he will beget a people. The Jewish race is born, and becomes God's own: I will be your God and you will be my people. And as this people grows through crisis, sin, and exile, the Word of God con-tinues to speak to them, residing in their Holy .of Holies, dictating their Law, guiding their history, inspiring the poetry of their kings and prophets. But all of it leads over and over again to relapses into idolatry and paganism, into infidelity and' hardness of heart, and finally into the degenerate Pharisaism that will not accept Him no matter what means He takes to speak to them: Into His own He came and His own did not receive Him. But all those who received Him He gave them power to become children o[ God, To those who believe in His name He who neither oI blood, nor (o[ a desire) o] the l~esh, (nor ot a desire ot man), But of God was generated. Not all o~ His own rejected Him, and between those who did and those who did not, a new dividing line is ÷ ÷ ÷ Prologue to VOLUME 20, 1961 105 gohn E. Becket, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS drawn. Once "it had been drawn by God between the Jew and" the idolatrous gentile. Gradually it shifted, so that it divided the Jews themselves. Only a faithful remnant was loyal to God and would receive the benefits of the Mes-sianic kingdom; the rest were Jews in blood and name only, This division started to break up the Jewish world even before the actual coining of Christ in human form. But this breakdown of Jewish unity was turned to,our good by God. it was the way God purged His revelation of Jewish nationalism, and it became the foundation for a new way of thinking among .those.Jews who accepted Christ. God's careful, educating hand was still at work, showing them that no longer was it important to be a Jew. Now all that is important is to accept Christ. For all who receive Him are God's people; Jews and gentiles become one people when they become Christians. Everyone who bears the human nature tbat Christ assumed~may now re-ceive life from Him. And receiving our life from God means becoming God's children. There is a difference, though, in our being tbe children of God and the children of h.uman parents. We received the life of our parents all unconscious of the gift. Christians, .even though they receive Baptism as infants, must eventually assent to their divine childhood consciously and willingly by ac-cepting the W~rd, Christ our Lord. It is one more proof of God's infinite wisdom that He need not interfere here with the nature He has created in us when He gives us new life. Rather tban rebuild our nature so that they l.ive automatically with divine life, He stands by His own primeval decision to leave us free. We may live a hum;in life that is dead to God. Or we may accept God's~offer; we may choose to receive Christ and become the .cbildren of God. Still, though He, has not remolded nature, Hhat He ¯ has dgne is miracle enough. To be God's child means to live with the life of God, just as to,be a h~uman child means to live with the human life of our parents. When We choose to accept Christ, by that very fact we make oui'- selves one with Him. One with Him, grafted on to Him, we live with His life. His life is the life of a Son; and so we, united to Him and living His life, live the life of sons, the life which, the only-begotten Son has received from His Father. Christ is so perfectly God's Son as to be God: I am in the Father and the Father is in me. United to the Son of God in a real oneness of life, we too are made sons. Our divine childhood is not a childhood of the flesh, be-cause Christ's sonship is not a sonship of the flesh. He who gives us power to become the children of God is He,who, neither of blood, nor o~ a desire of the flesh, nor of a de-sire of man, but of God is generated. Our own fathers, in a single moment, by the act of married love which gen-erates us, are only at that moment acting upon us with a real activity which is properly fatherhood. The action is over in a moment. ~But Christ, the. Son of God, is being eternally generated of God'. Our mothers beai" us in their bodies for nine months during which their bodies are ceaselessly active nourishing and protecting our growth. Btit even in that time of intimate and complete depend-ence we are separated from them. Physically our mother surrounds,fis. But she is not us. And her physical mother- ~hood is soon over. But Christ, the Son Of God, is so inti-mately one with God that together they are but one God; and the action of giving and receiving divine life between the Father and the Son never ceases to be a dynamic and intense activity. Christ is always the Son of the Father, not because the Father once launched Him forth into sep-arated existence, but because He is always being gen-erated by the Father and never is separated from Him. All fatherhood on earth is named fatherhood after this eternal fathering forth o~ the Son by His divine Father. Earthly fatherhood, momentary and fleeting, is its weak reflection. And just as Christ the Son of God is the eternal recipient of divine life, we, because we are grafted onto His life, are eternal recipients of divine life. By a ceaseless activity that never leaves us to separate and independent existence we are God's sons--unless we break the bond that seals us to Christ. But in knowing all this we know only the beginning. There is greater depth to the divine sonship still. Christ is the Word of God, as well as His Son. To find out what this implies about His sonship, we submit ourselves to the careful teaching of God again, through His inspired representative, St. John, who named Christ the"Word. A word is the product of a mind. And the mind is spirit. We must free our idea of fatherhood, then, from the fleshly concepts that could obscure it when we apply it to God. God's eternal wisdom is in the, Father as in an eternal mind. But it is in the Son as a thought contained in a word. But, like human fatherhood, human words are momentary, vibrations of sound or mental flashes.of un-derstanding. Christ, however, is not a momentary flash of God's knowledge. He is the eternal container of the thought of God, the eternal expression of the mind of the Father. And so eternal generation is more like the eternal production of an eternal word which contains all the divine and infinite nature of God. Christ's sonship is a spiritual sonship like that which exists between a word that perfectly expresses a mind and that needs no flesh to be real. It is no wonder, then, that Christ's sonship of the Blessed Virgin Mary~ though it is a sonship by which He derives His flesh fro,n her Prologue to St. John VOkUME 20, 1961 107 ./ohn E. Be~/~, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]08 body, should be a virginal sonship, free of the desires the flesh. Christ's infinite spiritual generation in heaven expressed in his virginal generation on earth. We are once more witnesses to the imprint of eternity on the events of time which characterizes the plan of our salvation. This second vision of faith, which St. John has projected in verses six to thirteen, has carried us again into the depths of eternity. This time it shows us that before we received the s0nship of the Word as our own life, we had been prepared by the very presence of this Word in the Law and the poetry of the Old Testament. Even before these things there was the presence of the Word in creation itself, though men failed to see Him there. Finally, before all the activity of the Son in the creation of the world and its redemption, was His eternal conception in the mind the Father as an eternal Word who contains all the divinity of the Father. And all that has happened in time, from the creation to the present moment, are but different ways in which God speaks His eternal Word to us, ways which develop and move forward with the growth of our power to appreciate God in ever clearer and more explicit realiza-tions until the ultimate climax when God no longer con-fines Himself to forming the universe through His Word, but clothes His Word in the very material of the uni-verse: And so the Word became [tesh And He made His home among us And we have seen His Glory Glory belonging to the only Son (coming) from the Father, .Full o[ grace and truth. God, in this last speaking of His Word has destroyed the distances between us. There is more, now, than com-munication between us. There is intimacy. The infinitely self-contained and perfect divinity projected the world and mingled with it to preserve its being. He intruded into world history to choose a people. With the Jews God took up His residence. He pitched His tent among them, as they delight to say over and over in their songs of praise to Him. His unseen glory was present in the ark. This was part of the covenant He made with them after He guided them by day and night from Egypt to the promised land in a pillar of cloud and a pillar of fire. At the dedication of their great Temple, God's glory filled the Holy Holies. But now this eternal ,Word, who sought out Abra-ham and made His promises to him, who spoke in the Law and the Prophets, in poets, historians, and storytellers of the Old Testament, is no longer satisfied to speak through others. He speaks in His own Person. All the di-vinity of the Word which had manifested itself in these ways through centuries, now resides in this human flesh, not as a mere inhabitant, but as one person with it. The body of Christ is God's new home among men. That unspeakable glory of God which filled the Holy of Holies fills now the flesh of a man and makes it the flesh of. the Son of God. And the invisible glory of the only-begotten Son, when it comes from the Father into human flesh, is no longer invisible, but seen, Men have seen His glory. We might expect glory to be a word connected with the miracle of the transfiguration which took place before St.John's eyes on Mount Tabor. But whenever we find St. John using this word, we find the passion and death of our Lord: "The time has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" (12:~3). When Judas leaves the supper to betray our Lord, He says, "Now the Son of Man has been glori-fied, and God has been glorified, through him, and God will through himself glorify him; he will glorify him immediately" (13:31-32). And in His last discourse to His disciples our Lord says: "Father, glorify your son that your son may glori.~y you (17:2). I have glorified you here on earth, by completing the work which you gave me to do. Now, Father, glorify me in your presence as I had done me there before the world existed (17:5). I have given them the glory that you gave me, so that they may be one just as we are, I in union with them and you with me, so that they may be perfectly unified, and the world may recognize that you sent me and that you love them just as 'you loved me. Father, I wish to have those whom you have given me with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me, for you loved me before the cre-ation of the world" (17:22-2'1). The glory that is His Fa-ther's love for Him becomes the glory of the love of the Father and the Son for us when Christ suffers for us to make us God's sons. Passion and death are things that would have been impossible to God unless He had taken upon Himself a human nature. But when it is done, we see a new and startling vision of the glory of God, a new vision which is a paradox; the invisible'and awesome glory that filled the Holy of Holies is brightened to a climax at the time of God's suffering and at the moment of His death. If there is paradox here, there must also be meaning. Paradox is a challenge to our deeper thought. If passion and death are the climax of God's glory, its fullest ex-pression, what can God's glory be or mean? There is cre-ation. When we think of its immensity, the hugeness of the forces unleashed in the exploding universe, we catch our breath and lose track of our mathematical securities. But this is not a full picture of God's glory. It is only a first, rough sketch. When we think of the delicacy of craftmanship that enabled a tiny planet to nurture life, Prologue to St. John VOLUME 20, 1961 109 ÷ ÷ ÷ $ohn E. Becke~, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 1]0 we may melt at the tenderness that reigns in a theatre of such violent forces, but we know again that it is not the full expression of God's glory. There is the Old Law when this all-powerful and tender God chooses to interfere in our pitiful history, chooses a nomad tribe and guides its destiny through hundreds of years of war and infidelity so that a few men at least will know that He is the God who is, in spite of their stubbornness and disinterest. This infinite humility of the omnipotent God, who cares that man's blindness be cured, speaks more clearly of God's glory but still falls, short of it. What is amazing is that none of this turns out to be any hint a.t all of what the full revelation of God's glory will be. How could we have guessed that the full burst of it would be a criminal execution on a Judean hill? Yet just this fiaeek submission to suffering and this most shameful of all deaths is the climax and full unveiling of the glory of God. God's glory is supremely expressed in His choice to suffer and die, to do those things which are the deepest badge of our sinful and fallen nature. The glory which Christ, the eternal Word, had before all ,time in the bosom of His Father is that extremity of love which leads Him to take up the nature of His sinful creature, suffer for him, and lay, down that life which, because it is the perfect ex-pression of the union of God with us, is the supreme gift which He can give to redeem us. And this glory of God, God's passion, is not for our contemplation alone, or for our deepest meditation. "If I be lifted up, I will draw all men to myself." It is magnetic force, :a force for union. We are drawn to Him, and all of us become one in. Him as the Father in Him and He in the Father. To a certain extent we are here meditating on poetry. In the context of our lives, however, it is more. It is an appeal to us to recognize the unity that exists now between time and eternity, space and divine im-mensity, and especially b.etween Christian and Christian. Little children love one another. We read here truth after truth, and they are many truths. But each separate truth, as it is presented to us, is set back into a mysterious and all embracing unity in God: The Word appears, but He is with God;° He is God. Creation emei'ges, through the Word; but then begins its long and relentless motion back towards God. Why this great return? Because the Word, who is one with God, has come forth from God and joined creation to Himself, pervading it by creative activ-ity, coming unto His own in word' and then in person, producing within Himself a new life for the created world to live in Him, making men God's sons and drawing them all and the creation that is theirs back to the bosom of His Father with whom He is but one. We, of course, must put ourselves back into this marvelous current o,f the life of God which is flowing back to Him. It cannot be ours unless we receive Him, and we can refuse Him. But if we are drawn to Him in the glory'of His Cross as it is renewed every morning at Mass, we will accept Him into our bodies in t~e sacrament of the Eucharist. We become, ourselves the dwelling place of the glory of God;. for we are the dwelling place of the flesh of Christ. All of us, marching back through time to happiness in eternity, become one in this divine life which nourishes us all. The glory of God walks about on the streets. It is in us and about us, We are His holy people united to Him and to each other in the reception of His body, all making up with Him but one body. Our temporal actions, walking the asphalt streets of our own moment of history, are eternal actions; our limited circle of friends and acquaintances is stretched to include all men, and they are all the focal point in time of our eternal love for Christ, because He is in them all. We se~ ii ~veryday in all meri, the glory o[ the onl~-b,e~g'ot~en Son of God, full of grace and truth. Prologue to $L loh~ VOLUME 20, 1961 111 COLUMBAN BROWNING, C.P. Martyrdom and the Religious Life The Reverend Colum-ban Browning, a fre~ quent contributor to the l~viEw, is sta-tioned at Saint Gabriel Monastery, 1100 63rd St., Des Moines 11, Iowa. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 112 Our twentieth century world prides itself on being mod-ern. And to the residents of our twentieth century, mod-ern implies everything that reflects the progress of this century. Efficiency, freshness of ideas, technological ad-vance- such things as these come to mind when we think of the word modern. Even twentieth century religious pride themselves as being modern in the best sense of the word. Since Pius XII inaugurated the movement toward adaptation to the needs of the times, the religious of today cannot avoid being modern unless he wishes to be branded with the stigma of retrogression. The response to the plea of Plus XII al-ready realized gives sufficient proof of the importance of making full use of all that is good in the progress of our age for the glory of God. But we religious can become so absorbed in our mod-ernity that we may forget that the motivation for the re-ligious life must always be the same and that it comes from the time of Christ Himself. This is why Plus always stressed renovation along with adaptation. While the approach may vary with the changing times, the mo-tivation is unchangeable. And for this motivation we must return repeatedly to the very sources of Christianity. The sources of Christianity are found primarily in the life and teaching of our Lord, a teaching enshrined in the Church that He founded. But also in the application of Christ's teaching in the early Church is found a very real source at which to learn the spirit of Christ in action. In those early days when the spirit of Christ was in the fresh-ness of its youth, we can find ideas to help us in our day to be better followers of Christ. One such idea that can be especially fruitful to this end is found in the historical fact that the religious life evolved in the Church as a sub-stitute for martyrdom. 1. Martyrdom and Christian Per[ection Martyrdom became a practical necessity in the early days of the Church. The infant Church soon came face to face with the persecution for~t,o, ld by Christ. Espec!ally in the Roman world did this 15ersec'u~ion reach the' pitch of fury. Beginning with the Emperor Nero in the first century and continuing for two and a half centuries, it was con-sidered unlawful to be a Christian. One who professed the faith of Christ, if detected, was given the alternatives" of apostasy or death. The story of the heroic courage with which so many thousands stood firm in the face of death is too familiar to retell. The resemblance of the death of the martyrs to that of Christ was evident to the early Christians. Just as Christ died a violent death in testimony to the truth, so also did the martyr. It is but natural, then, that martyrdom was seen as a dying with Christ. Just as logically, the martyr was considered the perfect imitator of Christ or the per-fect exemplificatibn of' Christian perfection. It is not sur-prising, therefor-e, that'we find the pastor~ and writers of those times exhorting the Christians to martyrdom as the means to perfect union with Christ. One need only study the example and the writings of St. Ignatius of Antioch to see how firmly rooted this thought was in the early Christian mind. During the reign of Trajan, this great Bishop was sentenced to death and sent to Rome to be thrown to the beasts. During his journey to Rome as a prisoner he wrote seven letter~ to the churches of the territories through which he passed. These letters reflect the burning desire of his soul to be perfectly united to Christ by martyrdom. His sentiments are most forcefully expressed in his letter to the Romans in which he writes as follows~ I am writing to all the Churches and state emphatically to all that I die willingly for God, provided you do not interfere. I beg you, do not show me unreasonable kindness. Suffer me to be the food of wild beasts, which are the means of making my way to God. God's wheat I am, and by the teeth of wild beasts I am to be ground that I may prove Christ's bread. Better still, coax the wild beasts to become my tomb and leave no part of my person behind;once I have fallen asleep I do not wish to be a burden to anyone. Then only shall I be a genuine disciple of Jesus Christ when the world will not even see my body . Forgive me, brethren; do not obstruct my coming to life-- do not wish me to die; do not make a gift to the world of one who wants to be God's. Beware of seducing me with matter; suffer me to receive pure light. Once arrived there, I shall be.a man. Permit me to be an imitator of my suffering God. Since martyrdom and perfect union with Christ meant one and the same thing, life itself was looked upon as a preparation for martyrdom. All asceticism was considered from this point of view. It was by dying to one's passions ÷ ÷ ÷ Martyrdom and Religious Li]e VOLUME 20, 1961 llS ,4, ÷ ÷ Columban Browning, C.I'. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 114 that one most resembled the martyrs and best prepared oneself for the supreme challenge. Origen expressed this in these words: "Those who have prepared themselves for martyrdom can even already be called martyrs, even though they may never undergo it." Time came when the pcrsecutions diminished and fi-nally ceased wi~h the Edict of Milan in 313 A.D. With tffe ,essation of persecntion actual martyrdom was no longer a possibility, but the ideal of martyrdom remained alive in the minds of the faithful. Since martyrdom by blood was no longer possible, a new emphasis was placed on asceti-cism which was looked upon as a martyrdom without blood. Martyrdom was still considered the ideal of per-fection; and those who most reSembled the martyrs by death to self, or ascesis, were considered the most perfect. II. Martyrdom and Virginity Among the practices of asceticism, that of ~irginit'y was held in an especial high esteem. The practice of virginity had been a high ideal and ~vas actually practiced from the beginning in imitation of our Lord and His Blessed Mother. But when persecution ceased, virginity received a new status as one of the foremost means of dying a .rnartyr's death without the shedding of blood. The virgin was con-sidered as wedded to Christ by a mystical marriage through grace. By complete death to the urgings of the body, the virgin, like the martyr, achieved a complete surrender to Christ, died with Him and became a perfect imitator of Him. St. Jerome expressing this thought said: "Virginity is a holocaust to God. Complete chastity is a victim to Christ." Thus, the white martyrdom of virginity, by a process of evolution conditioned by history, succeeded to martyrdom by blood as the equivalent of Christian per-fection. Living a virginal life in the midst of a wo}ld that still contained much of the pagan spirit obviously had its difficulties. As something of a moral necessity, therefore, those consecrated to God by the vow of virginity began to, band.together for mutual support. ~They often lived in common, prayed together and by mutual encouragement helped each other to their common g0al of perfect union with Christ. In this practice we have a foreshadowing and a natural preparation for the religious life. III. Martyrdom, Virginity and the R.eligious Lile The ground had been prepared for the birth of monaS-ticism, or organized religious life. Toward the end of the third century whefi the persecutions were beginning to lose some of their force, the practice of the eremitical life began in Egypt. In the year 320 (only seven years after the Edict of Milan), St. Pachomius founded the first monastery of the common,life, Some forty years later S.t.,Basil estab-lished the same form of life in the Eastern Church. With the virginal spirit already so high in honor and with so. many in fact already living the~eremitical life, it is not surprising that th.ese :m0~n.aster.ies flourishe~l.;Those. who desired perfect union with Christ and for whom martyrdom was,no 19nger possible flocked to these monas-teries. T~here, united in pra~er, these generous men and women were able to find a kind of native atmosphere in which to realize their ambition of perfect union with Christ by the "living martyrdom,' of the religious life. With the origin of monasticism there began a new epoch of Christian history, one that is still unfolding today. This is the history of the religious life. From one or two monas-teries, the fire of zeal that started them spread until it gradually covered the entire world. The organized life of consecration to God has gone through many stages of evolution, all of them prompted by the changing events of history. All through the ages the religious life has been adapting itself to the needs of the times until we find the greater percentage of religious today extremely active, whereas the religious of those early days were largely con-templative. But the religious of today are nonetheless branches of the same tree and the essential motivation of the religious life remains the same. IV. Practical Application Plus XII frequently urged religious to return to the sources of their life. Along with adaptation to modern needs, he stressed with equal insistence the need for renovation. The Holy Father realized that it is only when the spirit of zeal and fervor is pregerved and deepened that we can safely and sanely adapt, bringing the best effort to bear on the needs of the times. In striving to achieve this purpose, the religious of today would do well to endeavour to capture the spirit in which the religious life was founded. When we see the religious life as an outgrowth of and a s,bstitute for martyrdom, what a difference it can make in one's approach to the religious life. One sees clearly that the goal of religious living is perfect conformity to Christ, a wholehearted dying to self and complete living with and for Christ. The sacrifices inherent in the religious vows, resistance of the spirit of the modern world, the pressures and frustrations of daily activity in the life of the modern religious--all will be seen in a new.light when one realizes that these are but aspects of that death with Christ which leads to union with Him. It is by these daily sacrifices that the religious of our day are called to the same con-formity with Christ that was the goal of the martyrs. ÷ ÷ Martyrdom, and Religious Liye VOLUME 20, 1961 Lack of Sufficient motivation is ordinarily one of the greatest hindrances to the progress of a religious. It may help religious to ponder the fact that the vocation of the religious is essentially the same as that of the martyrs. The manner of realization may differ according to circum-stances. But the goal is identical--the wholehearted giving of self to Christ, dying with Him in order to live with Him. ÷ ÷ ÷ Coluraban Browning, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS llfi PAX The Call of God There have always b'een, and.always will be, voclttions. One has only to run through the pages 6f both Old and New Testaments to see that Goff has always called souls to consecrate themselves to Him or to serve Him or to come.back to Him. The call of God's mercy, for it is always that, may be heard at any time and in the most unexpected places, as witness the parable of the prodigal son, who was called to mercy in a pigsty. God is of an infinite adaptabilityl From the beginning of Genesis, We find God calling Adam and Eve back after their fall. Truly God's ways do not change, for His "I came to seek and to save that which is lost" is true from the beginning. So, t0b, God calls Cain after hig murder of Abel tO give him a spark of hope even in his punishment. Noah is called with all his family and is set apart by God for His service and his own salvation. But the first spectacular vocation in the Old Tegtament is that of Abraham. Leave thy country,, thy~kinsfolk And thy father's house, And come away into a land That I shall show thee. Here is the usual conception of a vocation, the leaving of all for God; and already there is the promise of what might be called a millionfoldl "I will bless thee and make thy name renowned., and in thee shall all the races of the world find a blessing." Abraham's might be ~alled a late vocation, for he was seventy-five years old when it came! His wife and his ,~ephew were called to accompany him, and God con- ~tantly encouraged him: "Have no fear. I am here. thy reward will be great ind~edl" St: Ambrose remarks that ,t is the privilege of the saints to receive a new name from God. God changed Abram's~:name to Abraham; and his wife's to one meaning "The Princess." She too was blessed, ,vho had been sterile, and bore Isaac~"the son of laugh-oero" + Pax is the nora de plume of a cloistered Benedictine nun whose monastery is located in Belgium. ~VOLUME 20, 1961 11~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 118 Vocations bring suffering, as Abraham discovered by the terrible test of his f.aith, when God bade him offer up Isaac in sacrifice. But God stayed that obedient hand at the last minute saying, "Abraham, Abraham, for my sake tfiou wast willing to give up thine only son." It is as if God is in ad~niration of this. sturdy faith of Abraham's, just as Jesus later was when faced with the dauntless faith of a woman, "Womfin, great is thy faith! . Thine only son," cries God; and in promising Abraham the reward of a countless posterity, through which all nations should be blessed, God is promising him no less than His own Son, who would save us all. We see the parallel with this situation in the words of St. John: "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son." God's love for Abraham and Sarah did not prevent His care for their bondmaid, Agar. Sh6 too is called and consoled in the desert by the finding of water .for her dying child and the promise of a wonderful future for him. It is no wonder then, that Abraham died contented. He had spent a hun drdd years in the service of God, and God had blessed him in all his doings. "God," a slnall boy onc~e remarked, "has some very funn) friends.", Jacob is,perhaps one of these, for in spite of St A_ugustine's lenient "not a lie, but a mystery," he appear., as "a t3vister"; but God who be.holds the heart saw hi., capacity for tenacious fidelity.and love. All God's dealing., with him are mysterious. Perhaps-He saw in Jacob, whc had, to put it politely, borrowed his brother's name, birth right, and blessing, the figure, o~. us all, of all mankind who would shelter:behind the name of His first-born Son Jesus, and in that Name and disguise, steal His blessin~ and the right of inheriting the Kingdom of Heaven. Nora of us can, then, throw stones at Jacob! He was called by God, in his sleep, from a ladder reach ing from heaven to earth, the passageway of countl~'s. angels (a ladder which has greatly intrigued the saints ant the fathers of the Church) with a free promise, with n( conditions! "I am the Lord, the God of thy father Abra ham, the God of Isaac, and tl~is ground on which thor sleepest is my gift to thee and thy posterity. Thy race shal be as countless as the dust., thou shalt overflow th, frontiers, till all the families of the earth find a blessing i~ thee and this race of thine. I myself will watch over the~ ¯. all My promises shall be. fulfilled." What a wonderfifl vocation Moses, the great contempla rive, had! From babyhood God endowed him with sucl grace and charm that he es~]ap.ed~death when Pharoa! killed the baby boys.o~ Israel. He, was saved by the ruler' daughter, who hired his, own.mother to nurse him. Got watched over him till the day when in the desert He caller him from out the burning bush. God often calls contem platives in the desert, for as St. Ambrose says: "The food of heavenly grace is given, not to the idle, not in the city . nor to those accustomed to worldly things, but to those of the kingdom of God." It needs contemplative eyes to see a bush aflame with God and ac0ritemplative tieart' to hear God's calling from so lowly a setting. How beautiful a name becomes when God pronounces it! "M6ses, Moses!" called ~God. "Moses" means "a rescuer," a saviour. Every contemplative is a rescuer of souls. Moses at once entered into the deep mysteries of God. "Take off thy shoes, for thou standest on holy ground. I am the God thy father worshiped, the God of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob. Up! Thou art to lead My.people out of Egypt." Moses is reluctant to accept this errand. His hu-mility tries to escape, from such high honors. Contem-platives often are tempted to wonder if their vocation is not presumption. Other people seem so much holier and more fitted for God's great designs. Moses is, like most con-templatives, a strange mixture of. timidity and audacity. God truly has ~strange ways of choosing His tools, of picking His elect! "Who am I, and Who art Thou, O my God?" cry the saints. "I'm not at all the person Thou needest"; and in the same breath, as it he hadn't listened to God's introduction, "Who art Thou?" Blessed humility, and blessed audacity of Moses, since! they gave us the splendid name God, "I am the God who is." Besides this amazing condescension of God to Moses, God gives His chosen one the gift of miracles to help him in his mission. But Moses in his modesty persists in pro-testing his incapacity for his vocation. He pleads his love of silence, his lack of facile speech. Contemplatives are often painfully aware of how inarticulate they are, how ineloquent when talking of what surpasses speech. The ~aints are sometimes regarded as fools by reason of this tongue-tiedness of theirs. Moses' vocation is fairly typical of God's call to con-templatives. He often accords them, at the beginning, a ~oretaste of "what eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor ,ath it entered into the heart of man to conceive." He puts heart into them; perhaps otherwise they would lever have the courage for the long march through the .vilderness that will inevitably lie before them. God brushes away Moses' doubts and fears and gives tim a spokesman in Aaron, whom Fie calls to the priest- ,ood, to the preaching of His message and to obedience. 'Aaron will receive my commandments from thee, and re- ,eat them . " And despite the desert, they could scarcely loubt God's abiding presence with them on the way since -Ie made it clear in their darkest nights by the column of ÷ ÷ ÷ The Call o] God VOLUME 20, 1961 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS fire and the very cloud showed Him. there by day, to say nothing of His extraordinary care for them, so that neither shoes nor clothing woreout, and bread was sent them from Heaven. "Nothing lacks to those who love God." Most contemplatives can vouch for this amazing care of their heavenly Father at all times. An odd vocation is that of the soothsayer Balaam, whom God served in his own coin, so to speak, and led by con-tradictionsl He is like the sort of dirig6 who makes clear to his director along what lines he expects to be directed, in the way of his, own choosingl Balaam almost obliges God to let him have his own way, and God uses it to humble him mightily, by letting his donkey know His will for Balaam, and furthermore announce it, backed up by an angel! For this honor the poor ass paid dearly. One might note in passing that God seems by the witness of both Testaments to have a weakness for asses, human and otherwisel That is, if we dare use a human expression and talk of the "weakness" of God, as St. Augustine dare., do, of Him who is the Strength of the Strongl "Why hast thou thrice beaten thine ass?" asks Godk, angel. "I came to intercept thee, because this errand ot thine is headstrong and defies my will. If the ass had not turned aside. I should have taken thy life and spared hers." "I will go home again," decides Balaam. "No," say., God through His angel. "Go, but be sure thou utterest nc word, save what I bid thee." Magnificently, too, Balaam does that, to Balac's indignation; and despite his efforts a! bribery, Balaam blesses, instead of cursing, Israeli "Son, of Israel, countless as the dust, race of Jacob past al numbering, may death find me faithful as these, and be m) end like theirs." The grace of God suddenly floods him, as it has a way ot doing when we are obedient. "My errand is to bless," h( cries. Headstrong Balaam then humbly confesses tha "from being blindfold, he saw, heard the speech of Goc most high, had a vision of Him, and learned to see right.' This passage recalls that in the New Testament of th( blind man of Bethsaida, who was also" slow at learning t( see, who also had a vision of God, and at His touch learnec to see rightl Children are called, too, by God. Samuel was choser before he was conceived in his mother's womb. He was th~ fruit of the long suffering and many tears of his steril mother, blessed by Hell, the priest, to whom she declare( her vow of offering him to God "all his life long." Sh. brought him to the temple as soon as he was weaned and "evermore the boy, Samuel, rose higher in God' favour," One night, while he was "sleeping in the divin~ presence where God's ark was," he thought he heard Hel calling him and ran to him with charming obedience sa.) ing, "Here I am!" Heli sent him back to bed three times, then realized that God had called the little boy. He told him that if God called again, he must say, "Speak on, Lord, thy servant is listening." How lovely the account of Godls coming ag~iin in Holy Writ. "The Lord came to his side and stood there waiting." So often He does, and waits so long, so patiently before we Samuels recognize His voicel It was a fearful message for a little boy to have to deliver to Heli; but Heli, hearing it, made the admirable answer, "It is the Lord. let Him do His will." Saul and David both had kingly vocations; the first failed, as alas, vocations sometimes do. The second bore the hundredfold of fruitfulness. Both were rooted in humility, for neither seemed at all likely to become king. Saul scarcely expected to be called by God to royal honors and duties when he set out to hunt for his father's lost donkeys, any more than the little boy David expected to be king when he was shepherding his father's sheep. David kept his humility and so God exalted him; Saul lost his, and by disobedience fell from God's favour. Both fell, but David speedily confessed his sin. As St. Ambrose says: "He sinned as kings often do, but he did penance, he groaned, he wept, as kings are not wont to do. He con-fessed his fault, he sought for pardon., he wept over his misery, he fasted, he prayed, and publishing his grief abroad, he left a witness of his confession to all poster-ity,. To fall into sin comes from the weakness of nature. To confess the sin comes from virtue." '"l~he Lord loves obedience better than sacrifice," Saul was told. Disobedi-ence is revolting against God, and almost inevitably pre-pares the loss of a vocation. We have seen a few of the calls of God in the Old Testament; what shall we say of the vocations in the New Testament? St. John the Baptist links, as it were, the two Testaments; and the Church applies to his voca-tion the magnificent passage from .Jeremiah, whom God told: "I claimed thee for my own, before ever I fashioned thee in thy mother's womb. I set thee apart for myself." Each New Testament vocation is splendid in its simplic-ity. Jesus captivates hearts by a look, a word, a smile, or simply by His presence. St. Augustine has a delightful description of the beginning of St. Andrew's vocation. "They wished to see where He dwelt., to be instructed in His precepts. He showed them where He dwelt. They came and were with Him. What a blessed day they spentl What a blessed night. Who is there who can tell what they heard from the Lord? Let us, too, build in our heart and make a house, whither He may come and teach us, and talk with us." The Bible account itself relates best the story of all the The Call o] God VOLUME 20, 1'961 ~2! 4- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS splendid New Testament vocations; of our Blessed Lady, of St. Joseph, of.~St. Pe.ter, St. John and the rest of the disciples. How many others there are of which we would gladly learn more, like that of the little boy who gave his bread and fishes to feed 'the multitude, or of Jairus' twelve-year-old daughter, who heard Jesus' Talitha cumi, "Little maid, arise." Who could doubt that she followed, seeking Him as eagerly as the bride in the Canticle of Can-ticles? There are vocations of ad~nirable people like St. Luke, the doctor, of St. Paul, the fiery zealot; of businessmen like St. Matthew; of thieves like Dismas, who stole heaven; of sinners like St. Mary Magdalene or St. Photina, who at Jacob's well, drew forth such streams of living water from the Sacred Heart! And that of Zacheusl When he could see nothing, he climbed a sycamore and saw the Lord passing by. Now the sycamore is sometimes called "a foolish fig tree." Little Zacheus, then, climbed the sycamore and saw the Lord. Thus they who in humility choose the things that the world deems foolish have a keen insight into the wisdom of God Himself. The crowd prevents us from seeing the Lord because the tumult of worldly cares oppresses the human mind and keeps its gaze from the light of Truth. We climb a sycamore when we attend to the "foolishness" (as the world deems it) of God's commandments, refraining from recovering What, is taken from us, yielding our goods to robbers, never inflict-ing injury for injury and bearing all with patience. The Lord bids us "climb a sycamore" when He says, "If one strikes thee on the cheek, turn to him also the other." Through such wise folly, we may see the Lord, and in contemplation catch a glimpse of the wisdom of God. So says St. Gregory the Great. "No one," says St. Ambrose, "can easily see Jesus, if he stay on the ground! One must climb above one's former faults, and trample on one's vanity. So it was that Zacheus came to receive .|esns as a guest in his house. And rightly did he climb a tree." St: Bede says that Zacheus, to see the Lord, had to abandon earthly cares and climb the tree of the cross, embracing thus the."folly" of Christ. St. Maximus has an entertaining sort of spiritual ledger account of the hardheaded businessman Zacheus' conver-sion. "Za.cheus," he says, "opened the gate of heaven to the rich by showing them how to buy heaven through the very means that once kept them out of heaven--namely, their possessions! He bestowed a treasure on them which would enable them to be rich for all eternity; he truly made a good bargain by showing them how to dispense their riches to the poor and so be eternally rich." Zacheus heard and answered our Lord's call with jo'y, unlike the other rich man who went away sorrowful "because he had great possessions." What shall we say of all the other humble and anony-mous vocations of the New Testament, of a deaf and dumb man, of how many blind, and lame~ and dead? Like all these, if we are very little in our own eyes, we act as a magnd~ for the love-of God'and for the grace of His turning to look on us and to say, "Come and seel" Better: still, like Zacheus,: we m.ayhear Him say, "Today I must dine in thy house-." Besi~ of all, we may hear Jesus' promise, "If a man has any love for me, he will be true to my wor~.l; and then he?will win my Father's love, and we will both come to hin~, and make our continual abode with himl" ÷ + The Call o] God 123 SISTER MARY JANET, S.C.L. ¯ Proposal for Small Missions: Taped Conferences ÷ Sister Mary Janet, S.C.L. is stationed at Saint Mary College in Xavier, Kansas, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS This is simply an idea. It concerns a possible spiritual service that the priest and the religious community in with a modern gadget might offer sisters living small, "spiritually impoverished" mission houses. The spiritual service is the conference; the modern gadget, the tape recorder; the "spiritually impoverished missions," those which receive little or no spiritual from a priest during the course of the year. The idea might be summed up as Taped Conferences on the Spiritual Life. There is no one way in which such an idea might realized. Sketched here are three possibilities. In one plan a religious community with a number smaller mission houses that do not enjoy the privilege regular conferences from a priest might secure the services. of a priest expressly to prepare a set of taped conferences for these houses. A distinct advantage of such a procedure would be that a priest could be selected who is well ac2 quainted with the particular community, its constitutionsl and customs, and its works. Furthermore, the community, could engage a man of proved abilities. Consider, for how a good retreat master could in this way follow up and amplify his original instruction, providing a spiritual focus and direction for souls over a con-siderable time span. How many conferences would he tape? This might vary according to the time the priest could give to such a proj-ect and to the number of conferences from one source community-might want. In general, six to eight confer-ences would seem ample, or perhaps enough for the re-, treat SUndays of the year. Probably--at first anyway-~' conferences in a series (where one is dependent on prem-ises set up in a preceding one) would seem less practical than autonomous conferences. Separate conferences would also simplify the distribution process. The subject of such conferences might well be deter-mined by a discussion between the priest and the religious superiors or even perhaps bysuggestions from ithe sisters themselves. The length ortiming 6f the tapes, too, might be suggested by superi6rs to fit into some. specific order of the day, as, for instance; a conference on the monthly day of recollection. Generally a half hour might be pro-posed as a relatively prudent length. For one thing, most Iape~ run one half hour; a longer donference would neces-i~ ate changing tapes--and there are distractions enough without mechanical onesl Too, we can only listen with maximum profit for so long. A half-hour is a safe average estimate. In this connection, it might be observed that the ;peaker can no longer rely ori gesture or facial expression ~r the command of his presence. He will need to compen- ;ate for these by careful use of illustration, examples, and ~enerally concrete, specific language. Once a set of conferences is taped, it could be dupli-zated to meet whatever demand there would be within the community. Note that five reproductions of a six-con-ference set of tapes wouldmake a conference on the,spirit-aal life available to thirty mission houses.After a tape had ;erved its purpose in one house, it could be sent on im-aaediately to another house, much in the manner we are !amiliar with in handling orented movies. Some initial planning in the form of a schedule for each tape would make distribution a minimum .chore. In communities which have a loan library, the tapes might well be added .o the materials these libraries make available to the sis- .er$. If the initial project proved valuable, the religious :ommunity could then enlist the aid of other priests and ~adually build up a considerable library of conferences or its sisters. A continuous program of new tapes--per-haps two or three sets a year--would seem ideal. A more ambitious project would originate with the )riests themselves. Here a diocese, an order, or a province )f an order of religious men might prepare and make ~vailable to sisters taped conferences on the spiritual life. Fhis, as I see it, would.be somewhat comparable to the ,ery real service religious orders of men are now perform-ng in publishing such magazines as the Sponsa Regis and he Review for Religious. This notion has fascinfiting possibilities. Think of the )riests in the cloister, older priests and those physically 11, priests,committed to work in seminaries and chancery ffices--for all of these, the tape is a possible pulpit. Tapes ould annihilate distance and a sister in New Mexico Ta~d Conterences VOLUME 20, 1961 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Mary Janet, S.C,L. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS could listen to Dom Hubert yon Zeller. They could bring the greatest spiritual thinkers of our generation into the most humble convent and they could preserve those voices for the next generation, Perhaps more ambitious yet: some large central agency concerned with the welfare' of religious--such as the Con~ ference of Major_ Keligious Superiors of Women's Insti-tutes or the Sister. Formation Conference might under-take such a project on a large scale, establishing a library of tapes for circulation among member communities. A small membership fee for each house or a larger one for a commu_nity would, I believe, cover the expenses of the project. ~ ° ~" Of course, the three outlined plans are not mutually ex-clusive. Indeed, they might well supplement each other and so offer .the sister "an embarrassment of riches~' in helping her gr6w in the spiritual life. Objections there would be certainly~ and it would be unrealistic to bypass therefor to pretend they could all be obviated. Such a project, for instance, would make a new demand on.already overworked priests. A certain, amount of expense and organization and book work would be in-volved:. What of the: .process of obtaining 'ecclesiastical approval? Some 'people simply"do not like being "talked at" by a machine, Furthermore, just. what advantage would the tape have over the,book? There are ,no real 'anSwers to the problems of time and taste. But there are some answers to other questi.ons., Ec clesiastical permission could no doubt be worked 6ut in side already existing channels. And, although th~ book is probably superiOr to the tape, objectively, still theteache, who uses the record or the tape can tell you that ther~ are times when the spoken word is more powerful and moremeaningful than the written word. More positively, jus~ wh;it purpose would such a projecl serve? A number of uses come to mind: for novitiates;' fo, sisters under temporary vows, :for ,sister,formation groups for the bedridden and .those, such as surgery supervisors who are unable to be :at community exercises, for prepa ration in renewing vows. But the most general use is on~ that can perhaps be illustrated by what is not, I think, ar undomm6n., experience among religious women in thi country today. It is principally why I think of this as ~ proposal for small missions. .'., ' A sister is missioned in, a parochial school in a fair-sizec town for nine or ten months out of every year. Here, ex cept for the Sunday sermon' in the parish church and th~ occasional and very generalized exhortation of her con lessor, the sister receives no formal spiritual instruction Her community may try valiantly to supplement this die during, vacation periods by institutes, tertianship pro grams, and so on. And fortunately for the sister, the Church demands the annual retreat. For very many sisters this is the only spiritual oasis in the year. Making good, solid spiritual conferences available to such a sister would be, I submit, 'a major act of super-natural charity. Too, it would "lengthen the arm" of the priest--or better, extend his voice~ which is, after all, the voice of Christ. + ÷ + Taped Conleren~es VOLUME 20, ,.1761 127 R. F. SMITH, S.J. Survey of Roman Documents ÷ ÷ ÷ R. F. Smith, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 128 The documents which appeared in Acta Apostolicae Sedis (AAS) during October and November, 1960 will be surveyed in the following article. Unless otherwise speci-fied, all page references throughout the article will be to the 1960 AAS (v. 52). Allocutions and Messages On August 24, 1960 (AAS, 817-19), the Holy Father addressed the athletes gathered in Rome for the Olympic Games. He told the group that the purpose of athletics is not the winning of prizes but the proper development of the human body. However, he added, athletics not only affect the body by producing health, vigor, agility, grace-fulness, and beauty; but they also produce constancy, courage, and habits of self-denial in the soul. Hence he urged the athletes to fulfil in themselves the old saying, "A sound mind in a sound body." He concluded his al-locution by calling upon the group to observe the city of Rome closely and to see the role that Rome has played in the spread of the salvation and the charity that stem from the Gospel. Five days later, August 29, 1960 (AAS, 819-29), the Pope spoke to the officials and administrators of the Olympic Games. With this group he stressed his intense interest in world peace on the basis of the brotherhood that exists among all men. He also recalled to his listeners the rues sage of St. Paul that they should strive for a prize that higher and more durable than any earthly prize (1 Col 9:25). On August 28, 1960 (AAS, 829--30), the Vicar of Chris~ sent a radio message to the people of Peru on the occasior of their National Eucharistic-Congress. He pointed ou to them that the unity and brotherhood of men find thei~ origin in the fatherhood of God and are nourished at th~ Eucharistic table where Christ is received who died the salvation of all men and who is the principle of supernatural life for the entire human race. On September 16, 1960 (AAS, 821-24), the Holy Father delivered an allocution to the Fifth Thomistic World Congress. In the remarks that he made to th~ Congress, Pope John emphasized that the moral teaching of St, Thomas is always directed to the attainment of a super-natUral final end. He also said that the explanation and solution of moral problems according to the principles of St. Thomas will lead to remarkable results in. the way of peace for the Church and for the entire world. Hence, h'e continued, if his listeners succeed in presuading both man-agement and labor to know their respective rights and responsibilities, they will at the same time be leading them to follow Christ who is mankind's protector in this Hfe and its reward exceeding great in eternity. This, he said, will require a diligent study of the works of ~St. Thomas; and he called for a constant increase in the numbers of those who derive their light and learning from the works of the Angelic Doctor, This increase, he noted, should not only exist among priests and scholars, but also among all those interested in the humanities and especially among the young members of Catholic Action. To this end the Pope also urged the wider distribution of St. Thomas' writings in vernacular translations. On September 24, 1960 (AAS, 824-27), Pope John XXlII talked to a group of heart specialists in the hope, as he put it, of giving them a knowledge of the dignity of their profession in the light of Christian revelation. The Bible, he said, stresses the preeminent place the heart has in the human person. It is the heart from which come forth holy thoughts, wisdom, and virtue; it is the heart which leads man to rectitude, simplicity, and humility; it is with our whole heart that we are commanded to love God; and when the Son of God came to live among men, it was His Heart that he proposed to men as an example: "Learn of me, for I am meek and humble of heart" (Mr 11:29). Hence, he told his listeners, while a superficial view might think that a heart specialist is dealing only with a problem in human anatomy, in the eyes of faith and in reality he is concerned with a whole world of moral and religious values. Moreover, faith will show the doctor the beauty of his efforts as a scientist in quest for truth; at the same time the same faith will teach him how humble he must be in the face of the limitless immensity of God, Finally, faith will show the scientist the image of God in his fellow men and thereby transform all his relations with them. This effect of faith, the Holy Father added, is especially apparent in a profession like the medical one which is entirely devoted to suffering human beings. Hence in their work the doctors should recall frequently that what + + ÷ Survey ot Roman Documents VOLUME 20, 1961 ÷ ÷ R. F. Smith, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 130 they do for their patients they do for that Christ who will one day say to them: "I was sick, and you vi.sit,ed me" .(Mt 25!36). On October 1, 1960 (AAS, 827-28), the Pope received the King and Queen of Thailand and delivered to them an allocution of welcome and good wishes. A similar allo-cution was given by the Pontiff when he received the Prince and Princess of Liechtenstein on October 8, 1960 (AAS 828-29). On October 20, 1960 (AAS, 893-95), the Vicar of' Christ visited the new building of the Beda in Rome and spoke to the English seminarians in residence there. Since the Beda's new building is near the Basilica of St. Paul he urged his listeners to recall frequently the woi'ds of St. Paul: "By the grace of God, I am what I am, and his grace in me has n0t been fruitless" (1 Cor 15:10). He went on to say that vocations are a tangible sign of the presence of God in the world; when God calls, a young man gives up family traditions, ambition, and earthly advantages and seeks only the glory of God, the sanctification of His name, the coming of His Kingdom, and the fulfilment of His will. He concluded his address by telling his listeners that each nation has its own treasure of traditions and of native virtue that can and must be transfigured into a precious instrument of the apostolate. Hence he urged them to take the well known English traits of humanity, gentlemanliness, and reflectiveness and transform them in the priestly activity they are called to engage in. On the same day the Pope also visited the new building that had just been completed to serve as a generalate and international house of studies for the Trappists. In the allocution that he gave for the occasion, the Holy Father t61d his listeners that the contemplative life constitutes one Of the fundamental structures of the Church; it has, he said, always been present in the two-thousand year history of the Church, constantly fruitful in virtue and con-stantly exercising a mysterious and powerful attraction for the loftiest and noblest souls. In praise of their vo-cation, Pope John cited to the Trappists the words of Plus XI (AAS, 26 [1934], 106) at the canonization of the Carmelite St. Teresa Margaret Redi: "It is these very pure and very lofty souls who by their suffering, their love, and their prayer silently exercise in the Church the most universal and most fruitful apostolate." He concluded his allocution by asking for the prayers of his listeners and of all the contemplatives of the world for the success of the coming ecumenical council. On October 25, 1960 (AAS, 898-903), the Holy Father spoke to the judges; officials, and lawyers of the Sacred Roman Rota. He told them that the dangers that weaken the institution of the family are accentuated at the present time, and he called the attention of all men of good will to the serious problem of the sanctity of marriage. In the first part of the allocution the Pope emphasized the need today for the instructi6n of the faithful r~egarding the dignity and the obligations of conjugal life. Marriage, he told them, is not only a natural reality; it is also a sacrament, a sign of grace and of that sacred reality, the espousal of Ch
Issue 11.5 of the Review for Religious, 1952. ; A. M. D.G. ' ' Review for Religious SEPTEMBER i5, 1952 Congress of Religious . The Editors Towards Continual Prayer . Pa.I DeJaegher Cases o~ Illegitimacy . Joseph F. Gallen ' "~ . Pius XII and Our Lady . JohnA. Hardon "Meaning" of A.M.D.G . Walter ~J. Ong Q, uesfions and Answers Book No÷ices VOLUME XI NUMBER 5 REVIEW FOR. RELIGIOUS VOLUME XI SEPTEMBER, 1952 NUMBER 5 CONTENTS CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS~The Editors . 225 TOWARDS CONTINUAL PRAYER--Paul De Jaegher, S.J . 231 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . ¯ . 241 PRACTICAL AND PASTORAL C/(SES ON ILLEGITIMACY~ Joseph F. Gallen, S.J . " . 242 COMMUNION CARD FOR HOSPITALS . 248 COMPLETE TEXT OF SPONSA CHRIST1 IN ENGLISH . 248 LEGISLATION OF SPON,$A CHRI,~TI . 248 POPE PIUS XII AND OUR LADY---3ohn A. Hardon. S.J . 249 "A.M.D.G.": DEDICATION OR DIRECTIVE~Waher J. Ong, S.J. 257 TEN-YEAR INDEX--LIMITED SUPPLY . 264 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERSm 21. Moral Obligation of Voting . 265 22. Boundary of Novitiate . 269 23. On Reading Rodriguez . 269 24. Change in the Habit . 270. 25. Applying Indulgences to Souls in Purgatory . 270 26. Honoring'Bequests for Masses . . . '. . 270 27. Unrealizable Desires for Sanctification . 271 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 272 BOOK NOTICES . 274 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1952. Vol. XL No. 4. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November at the Colleg.e Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by Sty Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matteb ,January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the a~t of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Jerome Breunig, S.J.; Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Adam C. Ellis, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.3.; Francis N. Korth, S.3. Copyright, 1952, by Adam C. Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota- ~ions of reasonable le.ngth; provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U. S. A. Before writing to us, please consult notice on inside back cover. Congress ot: Religious The Editors ~"HE first National Congress of Religious of'the United States w.as .| held at "th~ University of Notre Dame, August 9 to 12, 1952. Three members of our editorial staff attended as delegates. At the various sessions we tried to note points that would be bf special interest to our readers: and, since it was impossible for us tobe per-sonally present at ail the different sectional, meetings, we asked many friends t~ make similar n6tes. ,The present report is made up from these notes "jottings" might be a better word. .Regarding our report, let us make two observations. First, it is not intended to be a complete a&ount of the Congress. Official Proceedings of the Congress will be published soon and will give this complete accountl ' Secondly, even as an incomplete account, our re-port is not adequate; it represents merely what a comparatively tiny number of de'legates considered point.s of spedal interest. It would .help us greatly if other delegates who read this rePort would Suppl~- ¯ ment (or~ correct, if need be) this material by sending us communi-cations containing their own impressions: And it would also ,help if any r.eaders, whether delegates or not, w, ould send their observations on the points recorded her~. This "request for commtinications r~eeds emp,hasis. The Congress opened up for discussion many vital points concerning our religious life; but because of lack of time it could do,no more than start the discussion. Readers' of this Review would do a great service to the ~ellgious life in this country if they would continue this discussion. by the frank and constructive expression of theii own observations-on these ~;ital points. Purposes of Congress " The Congress was summonedby the Sacred Congre~gfition of Religious, as a mean~ of intensifying and. strengthe.ning the religious life in the United States, of givii~g religious of all institutes an op-portunity to exchange ideas and particularly to discuss the problems ~ertaining to the adjustment of the religious life to ~onditions, pie- ¯ vailing in our land without compromising the principles on which the religious life is based. We believe that the. first purpose of.the Cbngress the intensi- ' ,225 THE EDITOP~ Review f6r, Retigious lying ~nd strengtt~ening of. our own. r~eligious life--~as. easily .the central point of the meetings andthat' ~ good start was m~de towards its accomplishment.~ C~rtainly all of us were~ inspire~d with-the de'sire of becoming better religious arid of making our" institutes more.effec-tive means in the great work of the Church. As c~n'e Sisterwho helped us p~epare?these notes put it:. "Probabl~ among the fi, nest outcomes of the First National .Congress of Religio,us of the Ufiited States will be a'faller.realization'on the.part ofeach community, whether large or ~all, of iis.actual, p~iticipation and impqrtance.in i~he Mystical -Body. of ~hrist; a deeper feeling of p~rspnal love for our Holy Father' and an appreciation Of his interest in our spiritual and temporal well- .,being; an~under.standila~g of the ,eagerness,. of the members 6f the Sacred Congregation of Religiou~ to serve our need~s and tO assist us to b~come holy, saintly' religious; and finally, a cloker bond among th( religious communities'of the United States, with e~ich ~roup cor~: scious of its imp6rtance to the good of the whole 'and, ready to assist in furthering the 'apostolic endeavors of every, other institute:" ¯ The other purposeF-~-the ekchange of ideas and the consideration of nece~sary adjustment~--also received their due attention" at both the scheduled sessiofis and the informal meetings of smaller groupL The on.e flaw in the plaorfing of the Congress, if there was 0ily fl~w,. was that there were so many.papers that the.re was not sufficient time for discussion°fr0m the floi3r. Nevertheless, a fine beginning was made, and w,e hope that what was begun at Notre Dame can be car- ¯ tied on much further in' the discussi6ns in this R~view and in smaller meetings that can be arranged from time ~o time. . Organization .The Sacred Congregation of." Rhligioussent. f~ur representatives to theCongress: .The Most Reverend Atcadio LarraonL C.MIF., Secretary of the Congregation: the Very Reverend Giuseppe\Gi.am- ~pietro, S.J., the assistant to Father Larraona i~ the organization of regional "meetings of religious; the .Very Reverend Elio Gambari, S.M.M'., .whose specihl duty is-to handlethe affairs of refigious :in the United States; and the ~i~y Re;gerend Edward 'L. Heston, C.S.C:, the Secretary G~ner~l for, the Congress in the United States. ¯ The Congress was divided into two sections, for religious n~dn and religious women respective.ly. The Very-P(everend John ~J. Cavanaugh, C.S.C., who was President of the University of Notre .Dame atthe time the C6ngress was.plhnned, wasHonora.ry~Chair- 226 ~September, 1952 , (~ONGRESS OF RELI,.GIOUS manfor both groups. Executiye Chairman for Religious Men was. the "Very Reverend FranCis J.Connell, C.SS.R.; and for Religious W~men, the_Reverend Mother Mary. Gerald Barry,. O.P., the Supe-rior, General 6f the.Domlnican Sisters of Adrian; Michigan. Co- - ordinato.r of the. Congress'was the Re~'e~end Alfred F: .Mendez. C.S.C. The work done by Fathers Connell and Mendez and Mother " Mary Geriild in preparing for th~ Congress "was little shdrt of miraculous. They had only al~out three months tb make their pre-parati6ns, yet every detail, both Of the preparations and Of the'actual carrying out of the"Congre.ss,: was S~l~erbfy:planned and executed. As one small sample.migh~ l~e instanced the plans for daily Masses: there, were seven hur~dred Masses.each day; yet there was not the 'slightest -c~nfusion or difficulty in getting, iri ~he Masses. ~ ¯ Other members of the Committee for the sectlon of Rehgmus ¯Men were: theVery Rev~:end Godf.rey Diekmann, O.S.B.; the Very Reverend Philip F. Mulhern, O.P.: the,.Very Reverend'Thomas .~. Plas'smann, O.F.M.: the Ve~y Reverend Adam C. Ellis, "S.J.: the Very Reverend Basil Frison, C.M.F.; Venerable Brother Alexis Vic-.- tor, F.S~C.; Venerable Brother Ephrern O'Dwyer, C.S.C.; Vener-able Brother William, ~.F.X. O~her members of the committee .for Religious Women were: the Re~,erend .Mother M. Catherine Sullivan, D.C.: the Reverend'. Mother-M. Rose Elizabeth, C.S.C." the Reverend Mother M. li~n, C.S.J.; the Reverend 'Mother M. Joan 0t: Arc Cronin, O.S.U. the Reverend. Mot'her Mari~Helene,. S.P.: and Sister M. Madeleva.;" Spiritual Ideals In one wa.y'or anothe'r many. of the discussions at the C~ngr~ss centered on the clarification of the spiritual ideals common to reli-gious. ins~itfltes and on the .means. of¯ attaining these ideals., Particu-larly stressed was.~he fact that religious.need a deep pers'orial devo~ tion to Christ. Basic to such a devotion is the knowledge of.Christ; iand the young r~llg~ous must be.helped ~o get th~s knowledge, partly through Well-planned reading, and~mostly through prayer--for it is ~i knowledge.of the heart, and it is given by the Holy Ghost to ~hose " who humbly and perse~'erifigly seek it. ¯The fervent-reception of. Holy Communion-is a great help to.the atta!ning of this interior -knowledge and devotion. Incidentally, in. the men:s discussion 6f this tiepin, it was poin~e~, out that here, as i~ Other aspec~so,of their religious training, youri~ religious are inspired.by the goqd example ¯ 227 THE EDITOR,S " Review/:or Religigus of thei~ elders-and are proportib.nate!y harmed by thelack of such example. Several discussions also emphasized the need of a sense of per, sor~al responsibility. For. instance, one danger oK the religious life, with its many exercises in common, is .what migl~t be called "~herd-spirituality": one goes to the exercise automatically and takes.part with a sort, of detached numbness, ,as though ¯partially anesthetized. The chief wa~ to counteract this is the constant striving on the part of the individual to make the exercls~ personal. Also, some religious who lead an active aposl~olate, especially in small houses, .are fre-quently unable to have common exercises. They can lose the rell-gious spirit completely Unless through their own personal efforts they try to form a plan for making their various spiritual exercises in private. " The same idea of personal responsibility, under the formality of per_sonal initiative, was prominent in the men's discussion of religious obedience. It was pointed out,that apostolic initiative is n6t stifled by obedience, though it must often be controlled for the common good, as well as for the good of the individual. The rel, igious who always waits to be told what to do. is by no. means the model of perfect obedience, and the superior who requires this of his subjects is by no,means the perf.ect superior. , In a paper t, bat all will read With interest and profit, the Very Reverend Giles Staab, O.F.M.C~'p., reduced the moral qualifications of candida.tes to the religious life to the)four virtues of generosity, docility, prudence,~and loyalty. The generous candidate will¯have the r~quisite piety, the fight intention,' the chastity, and the zeal. The docile candidate will be obedient and thus further the Work of the i.nstitute. The prudent candidate will have good jiadgment and emotional control. And ~he candidat~ imbued with a spirit Of loya[t~t.will, be ready to subordinate his own interests to thqse of the community and will, as a natural consequence, b~e a, gobd communi@ man: a religious withsocial 'balanch, cgurtesy, and considerateness." Conte~ptative Life The .Right Reverend Abbot M. James Fox, O.C.S.O., gave' an interesting and informative talk about the contemplative life in gen-eral and the Trappists' life inparticular. He said that there is.a great hunger for thec0ntemplative life in modern America, . and he illustrated this statement.by quotin~ excerpts from man'y letters'that h'e has received from applicants to the' Trappi~ts. The Trappists,., 228 " ' v Sep~ei'hber~ 1952.- " CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS he said, have about ~700' novices in their varigus" houses ~throu.ghmit the world';" ,approximately half:of these novices ,are, in the' United State~.'In less than ten years the" Trappist monasteries in 'this country have increased from three' to ten.," °, "'- .~, Why the attraction to "contemplative orders?.+. At one of Sisters' sessions it was suggested that yout.h are attracted to the co.n= templative life because they,feel that in this life they can
Issue 4.4 of the Review for Religious, 1945. ; " GRACE AND ~BEAUTY~--G'. AuguStine Ellard, S.J" . 217 ENEMIES OF FAITHmF. X. McMenamy, S.J . " . 229 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE Walter J.On.g, S.J. y : . ~'230 ¯ WHY DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? Gerald Kelly, S.J. Bo~JKs RECEIVED . , . .~252~ PERFECTION IS UNION WI*FH,GOD .~Aug, ustine .Klaas,. S.J. ., 253, PAMPHLET NOTICES ,:~ . .-. . OUR LADY;S PARENTS Francis L. Filas, S.J .~ . .OUR' CONTRIBUTORg / . ' ~ . ~ ~- 270 QUEST~IO,N~ AND ANSWERS~. , 35. Blessed Ashes and Things Put in Sacrar~um- " (.' 271° ~ 36. Jurisdiction o~Mother Generiil and ,Local~Superior . ~7. Bo~y of Deceased Sister in Community Chapel . 38. Permission to Close Religious House . . . . . : . 272 ~ 39.~ Rosaries of String for fi.rmed Forces Only. .° . . ,: . . .o .~273 ~40.~Vows and Status of Reliigious.with Mental Disorder .-. '2_.73) ,41. Anticipating Date of Perpetual Vows .- . : .' .-'. , 275 42. ,Su.pterior's Obligation t6 Pro¢ide Monthly Conference COMMUNICATIONS ' ' ~ " ~77 ' ~BOOK 'REVIEWS~ :7 ' ~A'Dynamic World Order; That You May Live: Too S~nall a Wo-rld: The Hope of the.Har4es~; The Nu'rse:. Handmaid of the DivineoPhysi-." _ ¢ian;.Enjoying the NeW Testament . ~: . . . ' 28.2 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1945. Vol.IV, No. "4. Publishdd-bi- 'monthly: January, March.May, July,S¢ptemb,er, ahd N0ve~ber at the College Press. 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St.'Mary's College, St., Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical appr.obation.' Entered as second clas~ matter January 15 1942'; at the Post Office, Topeka,,~Kansas, "under the act bf March 3, 1879: ' "~ Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis. S.J., G~ ~ugustine Ellard, oS.J., Gerald Keily~ S.J. Editorial Secretary;: Alfred F, Schneider, S~J.2 Copyright, 1945, by'Adam C. Ellis. .Permission is hereby granted'for quotations of, reasonable length, provided due credit be given this r~view an'd the autt~'b~. Subscription pride: 2 dollars a ~'ear. ~ ~ Pilnted in U: S. A. Before writing to'us, please consult notice on Inside fiack cover. G. Augustine Ellard, S.,J. AN EFFECT of sanctifying grace that does not seem to get as much mention and consideration as it deserves is the beauty that it possesses .and adds to the soul. And yet beauty, with truth and goodness, is the object of the principal aspirations of every spirit. Moreover, beauty is an important element,in the value of grace. A clearer .knowledge of the beauty of grace should lead to a highe~ appreciation of it and a more eager desire for it. I. One could hardly hope in the present stage of the evolution of esthetic.philosophy to propose a for.mal defini-tion of beauty that would be generally acceptable. For-tunately, it is one of those things of which nearly every-body feels that he has a fairly satisfactory empirical notion, even though he could not set it forth in words. Among the definitions of beauty current among those who have studied the matter in the light of Aristotellan br Thomistic philosophy .we find : "the spl~ndor of truth" (attributed to Plato); "the splendor of order" (St. Augustine); "the effulgence of form in material elements definiti~ly limited and proportioned, ok in different forces or actions" (S~. Thomas); "the goodness of a thing inasmuch as when known .by the mind it gives delight" (Kleiltgen, [3ung-mann); and "the perfettion of a thing that makes it pleasing to behold" (Gietmann). Some would place beauty in truth, others in the goodness of a thing, arid still others in both truth and goodness together . Even when it ¯ is embodied in material objects, the perception of it i~ essentia!ly spiritual: animals give no evidence of,having a sense of the beautiful. 217 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Reoietu for~ Religidus Beauty may be either physical or moral. !V~oral beauty is found only:iiri th~ character or moral activity of persons; when one's characte,.r or action,i~ such that the very sight or thought of it ~tit~S delight and admiration, then it is morally.beautiful. Many insta.n.ces of heroism are examples :of it." All 6thOr beauty is physical. This may be material o~ sigiritual. About the material 'ther~ will be rio difficulty, and about the spiritual there need be none. It is simply that beauty which belongs to spirits, as material beauty belongs to visible things. To see and appreciate it properly is poss!ble, of course, only to ~pi~its themselves; but wecan have an analogous knowledge and enjoyment of it. It is very evident that angels must perceive one another and that that perception, of itself, must bring pleasure, in fact, great ¯ pleasure, betause prest~mably the beauty of angels is pro-poi: tionate to. their general ~perfection. Therefore one (good) angel viewing another and finding him pleasant to behold would be ~xperiencing What is meant by physical ~spiritual beauty. 'The angels now in heaven possess, as a matter of fact over and above the beauty that follows their angelic nature, the supernatural beauty of grace. Being g.ood, they exhibit also, of course, moral beauty. Simi-larly, human souls or spirits now i'n heaven and adorned with grace give pleasure to all who see them, both by reason of the natural perfection .and beauty of the. human spirit and because of the love!iness of their grace. It is well to¯note that to please ordelight, the. beautiful need not actfially be seen. It is sufficient that it can be seen, or hgs" been°seen, or can be ~epresented in quasi.-vision before the mind, A young man 'enjoys his belov.ed's beaut~, even when she isabsent: A living human soul in graOe is an object of actuAland full complacence to ~whoever sees it;. therefore c~rtainly to God, most probably to one's guardian angel, and perhaps to all the blessed. In heaven its beauty 218 duly, 1945 GRACE AND BEAUTY will add to the joys of all the angels and saints. Meanwhile there can be great satisfaction in really bein~l beautiful, though that beauty be all hidden.within, and in expecting the future manifestation of it. II. Other works:of God are beautiful; therefore, grace. is beautiful. In view of the extension.of beautyih God's works and the intensity of it in His greater creatures; this argu, ment from induction or analogy, seems to be legitimate. "The firmament on high is his beauty, the beauty of heaven with its glorious shew . The glory of the stars is the beauty-of heaven; the Lord enlighteneth the world on high . Look upon the rainbow and bless him that made it: it is very beautiful in its brightness." (Ecclesiasticus 13 : 1, 10, 12.) If the Supreme Artist has produced beauty so widely, and so profusely throughout His creationm -in natural scenery, inthe forms of crytallization, in flowers, in birds, in the human form and face, and in the angelic nature--it is not likely that He l'ias d~nied a high degree of it to wha.t is in a very true sense one of the greatest of all His productio.ns, namely, sanctifying grace. III. A consideration of the nature of grace confirms the conclusion indicated by induction or analogy. Sanctifying grace is essentially a participation in the divine nature, .that is, in what is in God the fundamental principle of the activity that i~s most characteristic of Him, namely, the direct intuition of infinite truth. Now God Himself must be supremely beautiful. He is the first author of all that is beautiful in His universe, in inanimate scenery, in the stars of the heavens, in the vegetative k.ingdom,. in animals, in men and women, and in the angels. "Let them [men] observing the works of the Creator know how' much the Lord of .them is more beautiful than they: for the first author, of beauty made all tho~e things . For by the greatness of the beauty, and of the creatures, the Creator of 219 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Review fo~'" Religious them may be seen, so as to be known thereby." (Wisdom 13: 3, "5.) Moreoverall the beauties of human art are ultimately.His creations. As a matter of fact God is not only the origin of all beauty; He is Beauty Itself, absolute, infinite, ineffable beauty, without the slightest admixture of anything that could detract from it. That beauty must be infinite, because the~being, truth, and goodness upon which it is founded are immeasurable. Though all perfec-tions are there, they are unified in the highest degree in abso-lute simplicity, and thus they. exist in the most admirable harmony. God is Hisown uialimited light, brightness, and brilliance. Long ago St. Augustine wrote of the beauty of God: "Consider the whole universe; the,heavens, the earth, the sea, all that is in heaveh or on earth or in the sea: how beau-tiful, how marvelous, how well and wisely arranged it al! is! Do these things move.you? Of course.they move you. Why? Because they are.beautiful. What then of Him. who made them? You would be stunned, I tt'iink, if you saw the beauty of the angels. What therefore of the Creator of tt~e Angels?" ($erm. 19, n.5: ML. 38, 136.) And St. Basil the Great: "Is there anything, I ask, more wonderful than the divine beauty? . .What thought is.there more delightful and pleasant than the magnifice ,rice of God? ¯. Altogether ineffable and indescribable is the brilliance of the divine beauty. Speech cannot make it known, nor ear receive it. Even though you should, think of the splendors of the morning star, the brightness of .the moon, or the light of the sun, everything beside the glory of that beauty. is insignificant and dark, and compared with the true light .is more distant from it than the depth of a gloomy and moonless night from the clearest noonday sun." (Reg. Fus. Tract.; Inteccog. 2, n. 1; MG. 31, 910.) Comprehensively to knox~T the magnitude and fascina£ 220 tibn of Beauty Itself and the enrapturing~effect ofbeholding it is pos~ibl'e only to one of the Bli~ssed Trinity. To.have some proper conception of itand how it feels subjectivdly to. see it is: possible only to those who have experienced the beatific vision, and even they c~uld not express itin human lariguage. Surely it is most significant that, giventhe pres-ent superna~u'ral order oi~ things, nothing on earth or in heaven except the .sight of God can quite satisfy, and quiet the' aspirations of the human spirit. But the sight of infinite truth, goodhess, and beauty is sufficient to beatify even the. divine spirit. Even though the beauty of God must remain concealed from us while we are burdened with the veils of mortality, it is so great that for some contemplatives it can ¯ become a source of the most exquisite delight and ecstasy and a most potent stimulus to di~'ine love. ~, Now sanctifying grace, being a participation oi: the divine nature~ and hence of the divine beauty,' must itself be correspondingly beautiful. Or, in other terms, grace is an assimilation to the divine nature and a resemblarice to it, and must slSar'e in its beauty as a'copy partakes of the excel-lence of a masterpiece. With the sonship to God which grace confer~ it must also brihg something of the paternal lineaments and features. -_,~ St. Cyril of ~Alexandria, speaking of the effect 6f grace, wrote: ".Is it not the Spirit thi~t carves the divine image upon us and like a seal imprints upon us a beauty su.perior to any in the world?" (Dial. 7 De Trin., p. 683.) .Again: "All of us who have :believed and become c6nforrned to God have been made, through union with the Son and the Holy Spirit, paiticipants of.thee divine nature, not only in name but in very reality in as much as we have been glori-fied with a beauty that is above all creation. For Christ is fashioned in us.in a manner that is indescribable, not as one 6feature in another, but as God in created nature in.that He 221 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Revieu~ for Religious has transformed our created nature through the Holy Spi.rit into His likeness and raised us to a dignity surpassing that. of all creatures." (De Trin. L. 4.) "The Spirit does not, like a painter, reproduce the divine substance in us as if He were extraneous to it, nor does He in .this way bring us to the likeness of God: rather He Himself who is God and pro-ceeds from God is .invisibly impressed upon the hearts of those wh6 receive Him like a seal upon wax, through com-munion and likeness to Himself, again painting our nature with the beauty of its original model and manifesting the divine image in man." (Tfiesaur., MG. 75, 609:) St. Basil: "Man was made according to the image and likeness of God, but sin destroyed the beauty of that image ¯. Let us return to the original grace from which we were ~alienated by sin. And let us beautify ourselves in the like-ness of God." (Serroo Ascet., MG., 31, 869.) Similarly St. Ambrose: "You have been painted there-fore, O man, and painted by the Lord thy God, You have a good artist and painter; do not. spoil the good painting, resplendent, not with color, but with the truth; expressed not~ with wax, but with grace," (Hex. VI, 47.) And St. Augustine: "Human nattire, When it is justified by its Creato~r, is changed from ugliness and deformii:y into a lovely and beautiful form" (De Trin. XV, c. 8, n. 14). IV, Grace also gives one a share in the beauty of Christ. Among the three divine persons of the Blessed Trinity .bea'uty is appropriatedparticularly to the Word, as "being the flashing-forth of" the Father's "glory, and the very .expression of his being" (Hebrews 1:3)i, or, in Knox's yersion, "who is the radianc~ of his Father's splendour, and the full expression of his being~" Even the created beauty of the humanity of Christ, natural and supernatural, physical and¯ moral, material andspiritual, is very great indeed and an object of the keenest delight to all the angels 222 Jul~, 1945 GRACE ,~NI~ BEAUTY and saints who see it. The Church in her liturgy often proclaims that .beauty: "Thou art beautiful above the sons of men: grace is poured abroad in thy lips . With thy comeliness and thy beauty set out, proceed p~osperously, and reign." (Psalm 44:3-.5.) Commenting on this passage St. Augustine. wrote: ',He is beautiful as God, the Word with the Father; He is beautiful i~ the womb .of the Virgin, where He assumed human_ity and did not lose His divinity.; He is beautiful as .a new-born babe and silent Word (infar~s Verbum) . Beautiful therefore in heaven, beautiful~ on on the earth; . beautiful .in His miracle~, beautiful in the scourging; beautiful while callii~g to life,~ and beautiful in not caring about death; beautiful as He lays down His life,.and beautiful in taking it back: beautiful on t.he. cross, beautiful in the sepulcher, beautiful in heaven . Let not, the imperfections of this body turn your eyes away from the splendor of His beauty. (In Psalm. 44, 3.) Clement of Alexandria thus extolls the.attractiveness of Christ: "Our Savior surpasses all human nature. Indeed He is so beautiful that ' He ' alone deserves to be loved b31 us, if we desire true beauty; for He was the truelight." (St~r,om. L. 2, c. 5.) ' . ~ All who receive sanctifying, grace are adorned after the model of Ch~:ist: "For all Of you who were bapt.i~zed into Christ, have pu~ on Christ" (Gala.tinny3:27):1 "My children witt~ whom I am again in tra.~ai.l,~ until Christ be formed in you" (Ibid. 4: 19) : "Those Whom he hath fore-known, them he hath predestined to bear a nature in the ima~ge of his Son's, that he should be first-born among many brethren" (Romans 8:i9). The Fathers of the Church like to emphasize the 1New Testament texts quoted in this article are from the Westminster Edition. 223 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Retffeu~ for Religious ?esemblance even in appearance between Christ and Chris-tians., Thus St. Cyril.of Alexandria writes: "Nor should we be sons by. adopti.on and inlikeness if there were no real and true son; to His form we are fashioned; to beilike Him we are transformed with a certain art and grace" (Tbesaur. MG., 75, 526). "One is molded to become a son of God according to an excellent model . This beauty is spiritual. ~ By participation in the Holy Spirit they ar~ fashioned in Christ as it were, according to Him as a model . Christ is indeed formed in us, the Holy Spirit impres.sing upon us a certain figurel ~hrough holi-ness and jusgice." (In Isaiarn; IV, II; MG.; 70, 936.) Sim!larly St. Gregory'Nazianzene writes: "Since the day -when y'ou were changed by baptism, all your old features have disappeared, .and one.f°rm l~as been imlSressed upon you all, namely, that of Christ" (Or. 40 In Sancta Lurn., n. 27). V. According to the analysis of the beautiful made by St. Thomas., and followed by many Catholik savants, there are three chief elements that concur to make a thing ¯ beautiful;- integrity, harmony, and brightness. Evidently integrity or completeness, in all parts is neces~'.~y. A person who has lost, say, an arm or a leg would ~:i~ly be a candidate for a beauty prize, nor could a buil'd~.~bf w.,,.hich some integral part has been destroyed exemplify architec~,ural beauty. It is deaf too that .har-mony, taken.in~;. ,,a~.~bgr,~o a,_d sense so as to include symmetry, proportion,, oraer, aria in general proper agreement, is required. All the different components that enter into the constitution of a thing ~bat has beauty~for instance, a cathedral~must have appr6priate size, mutually sui~ one ~nother, be suitably arranged, and all in all so fit together into one.coherent whole as really to mak~ a unit and con-vey .a unified impressioia. Order in some sense is so essential 224 dul~t,.1945 . GRACE AND BEAUTY to beauty that disorder and ugliness are almost synony-mous. = It may be noticed in passing that the name "cos-mos" for the uni~rerse as an ordered system of ,things and th~ term "cosmetics," the art of improving ,:feminine beauty, both come from the same old Greek word for "order." ¯ There is an order that we may call static; it is illus-trated, ¯ for example, in the disposition of an artistically planned pai'b]ti.ng 0r building. Dynamic order is found wherever different movements or actions are subordinated to one purpose: for instance, in the.mecbanlsm of an auto-mobile or in the multitudinous movements of an orches-tra. Order is in a peculiar sense the offspring of intelli-gence; and wherever it is found'and in.whatever degree, it gives satisfaction to the mind that p~rceives it. Though variety is said' to please, no great degree of it is necessary if there be sufficient'richness of content,' as, for example, in the finest silks or velvets, similarly certain single colors and tones, if they be sufficiently pure,, rich, and clear, seem t9 be beautiful. '~The e~y,,e admireth at the beauty of the whiteness thereof tsnow] (Ecclesiasticus 43:20). ~. , The third elen~ent required for the beautiful °is,!bright-heSS. Perfection of being, which is otherwise ~ibl~ to delight one who simply considers it, can hardl,y rfiake much of an impression on one who does not se~ it iclearly. Relat.ively to us, therefore, at least, a ~certain clari~ty of presentation is necessary. J,udged by these three criteria., namely, integrity, har-mony, and brightness;.grace has a right to be called beau-tiful. That it possesses integrity, or in other words that it has all that pertains to its perfection, may be inferred from its spirituality, and also from the fact that it is a creation of the .Divine Artist exclusively. He could not leave one. of 'the highest and noblest of His works incomplete nor 225 G, AUGUSTINE ELLARD Review for Religious inferior in appearance. There is an admirable harmony or order about sanc-tifying grace. To begin with, it sets a person in just the right essential_supernatural' relatiori to God, and thus, :at ~least indirectly, with respect to all other persons and things. Grace is alsoa prindple of order within a man himself inasmuch as it is a source 0f supernatural moral, order and propriety, and hence of .beauty, in all his con-duct. Moreover sanctifyin~ gr.ace'possesses order within itself in the sense that it brings with itself and keeps in proportion all the infused moral virtues and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. All these taken together constitute the supernatural organism, the anatomical basis, so to speak, of the supernatural life, and this organism must have a proportion and symmetry and harmony equal to its gen-. eral excellence. Being spiritual, it must be superior to whatever is material; being of itself immortal and incor- ~uptible,,its beauty should be corr.espondingly great and lovely. Not only this, but since it is supernatural, its attractiveness should be higher 'and better than merely natural spiritual beauty. Oftentimes one of the principal sources of,the satisfaction found in the esthetic contempla-fion of works of beauty is the perception df how the artist has really reached or approached the ideal which was evidently before his mind. In grace, Which is a super-natural likeness of the divinity_---in fact the highest pos-sible likeness of it---~.the in'tended correspondence between the model or ideal and the real must be perfe.ct and com-plete since God Himself is the artist who ~produces it. That grace possesses brightness and adds. a certain light to the soul that it adorns is.abundantly evident from the fact that in all the literature on grace, whether ancient or modern,, light is one of the analogues most commonly used to explain it. Thus the Catechism of the Council of Trent 226 dul~t, 1945 GRACE AND BEAUTY says that grace is "a certain splendor and light, which blots out all.the stains of our souls and makes thos~ souls them- . selves more beautiful and splendid'.' (Or: Balatisrn, 50). Grace, therefore, has its own spir.itual and supernatural ¯ integrity, harm.ony, and brightness, and as such is beautiful or fair to behold. ¯ VI. Beauty as ~an effect of grace was a favorite theme with St. ¯Bonaventure. He liked to conceive grace as making one a sort of spouse of God. Hence it was natural for St, Bonaventure to emphasize the adornment that grace confers and that high and special kind of beauty' which becomes a spouse of God. It makes one so attrac-tive and lovely in the sight of God that one become.s a fit object of divine complacence. "The .king shall greatly desire thy beauty: for he is the Lord thy God, and him they shall adore" (Psalm 44:12). "How beautiful art thou, and how comely, my dearest, in delights" (Canticle of Canticles 7: 6). VII. Among the lekser eventual effects of grace will be the resurrection and the beauty of the glorified body. "Then 'shall the just.shine forth a.s the sun' in the king-dom of their Father" (Matthew 13:43). "The Lord 3esus 'Christ. will tr~lnsform the body of our lowliness, that it may be one with the body of his glory, by the force of that power whereby he is able tb subject all things to himself" (Philippians 3:21). The physical beauty of the glorified body will be yer~ great indeed, even in the case of those in whom it will be least, for instance, in the bodies of b~ptized infants who entered paradise with the lowest measure of grace, or in those sinners or converts who barely squeezed in fit the last moment. "There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies; but the glory of the heavenly is different from that of the earthly'" (I Corinthians 15:40). Oftentimes, 227 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD 'R~vieu~ [or Religious if not too often, mortal human beauty is enough to enchant and transport men.It is the product of a merely natural process or of the cosmetician's art. Immortal human beauty Will be the creation of the Infinite Artist Himself and such' as befits the final and crowning state of His uni~rerse. The human beauty that we see here is o. nly.too evanescent; celeso tial~ human beauty will be eternal,, forever adding to the delight of all who behold it. Human beauty in this life is granted indiscriminately to the good, bad, and.indifferent. with the advantage rather in favor of the indifferent or bad. -at least because they are more gi.ven to cultivating it. Glorio fled b~au~y is~ reserved for God's. own elect and favorites. Beaut.y here .issuch as becomes this vale of tears; beauty there must be great enough to harmonize with the mag-nificence of the ~elestial mansions and theexcellence of the" persons who form the celestial society. The least beautiful glorified body should be at the minimum, it would seem, incomparably more.lovely than the. most beautiful body not yet glorified. .'What then of the most beautiful men and women in heaven? The personal physical beauty, not only the spiritual, but particularly now that of the glorified bodies of the ~lect, will, like the beatific vision itself, be proportion~ate to~ ~the. amount of grace with which they entered heaven. "There is the ~!ory o~ the sun, and the glory of the moon, and the'glory of the star~; for star differeth from star in glo,ry. And so it is with the resurrection of the dead."" (I Corinthians. 15: 41, 42.) "In the final state such will be the subjection'of t.hebody to the soul that even the quality of the body will. follow the excelience of the mind: whence according to the different degrees of merit, one soul will be more Worthy than another and one body more glorious, than another" (St. Thomas, In II Dist. 21, q. 2, a. 1). VIII. The practical conclusion from all these consid-. 228 GRACE AND BE/~UTY erations is that one who desires to possess the optimum quality and the maximum quantity of beauty, natural and supernatural, physical and moral, spiritual, and b6dily, who wishes to let the greatest number of the best persons enjoy.it, and who would retain all that beauty for the !onges.t time, should devote oneself to accumulating the highest possible measure ofsanctifying grace. Moreover, the more grace one has, the keener will be one's Vision and fruition of the infinite beaugy of God Himself and of all the finite beauty, whether in persons or things, in heaven and throughout the whole universe, and that eternally. ENEMIES OF FAITH The enemies of faith are tw, o and .they are closely related to each othe, r, sin and worldliness, All sin but especially habits of sin obscure spiritual v~sion: make it hard for the mind to see God's full truth. Sin is a thing of darkness, and it loves the darkness to hide its sham~. Worldliness, however, is perhaps the greater enemy of a living faith because more common, more plausible, more insidious seeing that its manifestations are not'always obviously sinful. Worldliness is!a cast of mind and a habit of will that ignore divine adoption: the blight of a naturalism that vitiates one's appraisals, one's likes and dislikes, all of one's habits of life as though one.~were not a son of God. Gradu-ally but surely does it extinguiih the ligl-it bf th~ new knowledge to end in darkness and sin "and disrelish for prayer and the beautiful realities of God.--F. X. MCMENAMY, S.J., in Alter Christus. 229 ' Walter J. Ong, S.J.- MANY religious, sensing beneath the writings of John Henry,Cardinal Newman a character sympathetic to their way of 1if,e, must have asked thdmselves: Why did Newman not become a religious? In this centenary year of his conversion, many will recall that for some time after Newman was received into the Church'on October 9, 1845~ heithought seriously about the religious life as a vocation for himself and for others of the group of Anglicans who came into the Church with him. ~ In a .sense, he finally' decided both for and against the religious state. A year and ~ half after his conversion, he chos,e, in the life devised by St, Philip Neri for his Ora-torians, a place for himself half-way between that of the religious and~that of the diocesan priest. For members of an Oratory of St. Philip Neri are priests, and assisting lay brothers, who live under obedience in a ~ommunity. Never-theless, they are not religious, for they live thus without public vows. The Oratorian community, compared to a religious community,.ii thus very !oosely knit. Each mem-ber in great part provides for his own material needs out of his own resources, and each is free to leave should he wish to do so. Why. did. Newman settle upon this kind of life? Appeal of Religious Life? Was it because the religious life did not at all. appeal ,to him? Some might suspect this. Indeed, owith all the "230 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE writing there is about Newman', it would not .be surprising if ~omeone who likes to spade around in the subconscious has turned up a theory that Newman did not become a religious because the re.ligious life demanded too much self-abnegation. Perhaps someone has. Int~res.ting and even amusing texts could be quoted to support the theory. Let us quote a few. Reactions to Religious Observance? In 1846, the year after their conversion, and before their ordination to the priesthood, .Newman and his fellow-convert Ambrose St. John were to go to Rome, where they hoped to mature some definite plans for their future activity in the Church. At Rome they.would s.tay at the Co.llegio di Propaganda, a seminary conducted by theRoman Con-gregation of the Propagation of-the Faith. In this.semi-nary,, or. college, studies were made by many of tbose destined for the priesthood in missionary countries, among which countries England, like America, was classed ~at the time. From a former stud_ent. 'at the Collegio, a Dr. Ferguson, Newman had wormed out an advance description of the life there.'His letter to St. John reporting wh~t Dr. Ferguson b, ad to say s.bows interesting reactions to matters touching the religious life: Every quarter of an hour has its work and is measured-out by rule. It i~ a Jesuit retreat continued through the year. You get .up at half past five, having slept (by compulsion) seven and a half hours, at quarter to six you run into the:passage and kneel down for the Angelus. Then you finish your dressing. At six you begin to meditate--the prefect going up' and down and seeing you are at your work. Three mihutes off the 1half hour a bell rings for the col-loquium. At the half hour (hal'f past six) mass--which every ond attends in surplice. Seven breakfast, some bread and some milk and (I think) coffee. Then follow schools--at half past e1~ven dinner and so on. A dompulsory walk for.an hour and a half in the course 231 Reoieto for Religious of the day.x Newman calls' attention to some details closely related to common life: Recreation an hour after dinner and supper--but all recreate together ~--no private confabs. In like manner no .one must enter any other .person's room. (Corollary. It is no good two'friends going to Propaganda.) . Further, your letters are all opened, and you put the letters you. write into the Rector's hand. To continue--you must not have any." pocket money . "Then there is no good," I asked, '"in taking money." "No," said Dr. F., "none at all." Next, you may not have clothes.of your own--the RectOr takes away coat, trousers, shirts, stockings, ~c. ~c. and gives you some of the Propaganda's. Although the Collegio was run to train not religious but diocesan priests, the details which Newman here singles out for comment includ~ many which remain more or less a permanent part ~)f the religious life~ From the rueful tone of Newman's letter, one might gather that such details 'are listed because they show where the shoe pinched the most unbeara,bly. Little wonder, one would say, that Newman did not' become a religious. The life plainly did not at all appeal to him.' "They give you two cassocks," he goes on, "an old one and a new one." (Newman's own italics). ' "To complete it, he [Dr. Ferguson] said that I should be kept there three years and that I shouid have to read Per- .rone." Reading Perrone seems to have been ~ associated 'iri Dr. Ferguson's mind only with.feelings of the greatest ter-. ror. Perrone, well-known Italian theologian, Was laterto be Newman's friend and champion. But now Newman passes over Perrone's name without comment, having asso- Ciated with the name nothing but the iinister overtones of xWilfrid Ward, The Life of John Henry Cardinal Netoroan (New York: Longmans, Green and Co., 1913), I, 132. All quotations from this work are with the kind permission of. the publishers. . 232 , Ju1~,1945 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE Dr. Ferguson's woeful recollections. "Meanwhile . . . we heard that at Rome . . . 'apart:. ments' have been'got ready at Propaganda for Dr. Wiseman and' me." Newman must have shuddered as he~ wrote "apartments": at least he put~ the word in quotes. "The only allowanc~ I extracted from Dr. Ferguson," be continues, "was that you might bare private papers in your writing desk . Dr. F. said one thing was provided gratis--snuff ad libitum and I should be allowed to take a snuffbox." In the event, Newman was not subjected to the rules here described for the young seminarians. According .to our projected theory, this should pro.re that he had no stomach for any life restrained by strict rule. His.sub-conscious repugnance to restraint asserted itself here, and be somehow automatically edged his way around even temporary regular observance--this enterprising theory would hold. Other evidence could be scraped up. ofit of " Newman's letters to give body to such proof. For instance, shortly after his conversion he writes of a visit just paid to the Catholic college at Oscott:. ChaHes Woodmason and I . . . arrived here on the fe.Xstival of St. Cecilia . We found the passage crowded and no servants to answer the bell, and bad to poke in as we might, leaving our 1Bggage at the entrance. I say they perhaps were" scandalized, for they have the most absurd notions about us. I think they fancy I never eat, and' I have just lost a good dinner in.consequence. After returning from Birmingham walking and hungry, I literally have had to pick up a crust from the floor left at breakfast and eat it,. from shame at asking again and again for fhings.2 Does this hankering for servants 'and victuals Show the spirit of abnegation which the re!ig~ous life demands? And, the letter gets worse instead of better: 2lbid., I, 103-104. 233 WALTER J. ONG Review for Roligious . Wall, we were ushered into the boys' dining room--the orches-tra at the end, and the table~ plentifully laden,for all hearers with cake and (pro pudor)" punch~a very sensible w.ay of hearing mu.sic. They certainly were scandalized at my d~tecting the pu.nch--for they said again and again that it was made of lemon and sugar. All i~can say is that ours.at the high table was ~emarkably stiff,.and that I was obliged to dilute it to twice or thrice i~s quantity with water. More of this kind of thing ~ould be dug from New-man's correspondence, and one could turn it all to account to explain quite ~eadily Newman's turning away from the religious state. His unconscious self had said from the first, "Don't be a religious,'.' adding with standard subconscious ¯ hypocrisy, "but talk sometimes about the religious life So you'll get the credit for being interested in it." Thus New-man's attraction, to the religious state was sham--the the-ory Would conclude. A good conclusion, if only it 'were true. Such a con-clusion, hoWever, would not be founded on fact, but rather on a wild misinterpretation of some of Newman's pleasant-ries. Indeed, the last passage just quoted hints that people bad associated with Newman, not. mere talk, but definite habits of abstemiousness quite in accord with the little sac-rifices demanded by religious life. Newman's Self-Abnegation. )ks.a matter of fact, Newman had such habit~. An appetite for quite real s~lf-abnega~ion in .imitation of Christ had worked itself out very practically in Newman's lifd even before he entered the Catholic Church. In 1842 he had retired from Oxford to the neighboring town of Littlemore, where he gathered some of his Oxford friends. Here he became a Catholic 'and here he continued to live until February,. 1846. We have an account of the place of retreat at Littlemore in a letter in the Tablet shortly after Newman's conversion written by Father Dominic, the 234 July, 1945 NEWMAN ~AND THE',RELIGIOUS LIFE Italian Passionist who received him into the Church. "Littlemore," Father Dominic explains, is a village about :two or three miles from Oxford. It presents nothing charming in its aspect or situation, but is placed in a low, flat country; it exhibits no delightful vill.as, nor agreeable Woods and meadows, but one u~nvafi~d uniform appeara.nce, rather dull than pleasant. In the midst of this village we meet with a building, which has'more the look of a barn than a dwelling:house; and in reality, I think it formerly was a barn. This unsightly.building is "divided by a number of walls, so as to forni so many little cells: and it is So low that you might almost' touch the roof with'your hand. In the interior );ou will find t.h.e most beautiful specimen of patri-archal simplicity and gospel i~overky.8 The Italian was iensitive to the vagaries of the English weather and impressed by the sombrene.ss ofEngland's dark, damp days. Failure to take measures against such conditions was to him a sign of real mortification: To pass from one cell to another, you must go through a little out-side corridor, covered iladeed with tiles, but opeln to all inclemencies of the weather. At the end of this corridor, you find a small dark room,'whi.ch has served as an oratory. The furnishings and diet impressed him most of all. In the cells nothing is to be seen but poverty and simplicity-~bare walls, floors composed' of a few rough bricks, without carpet, a straw bed, one or two chairs, and a few books, this comprises the whole furniture ! !-! The refectory and kitchen are in the same style, all very small and v.ery poor. From this description one may easily guess what sort of diet was used at table: no delicacies, no wine, no .ale.,'no liquors, but seldom meat; all breathing an .air of the strictesk poverty, such I have never witnessed in any religious house in Italy. or France, or in any other.country,where I have been. A C~ipuchin monastery would appear a great palace when compared with Little-more. It is the "best geniuses of the Ang!ican. Church" who. have retired, to this house, Father Dominic goes on, and have lived there--persons "of birth, learning, and pie~ty,. Slbid.o I, 106,107. 235 WAETER 3. ONG Review [or Religiou~ who possessed, or at least might have possessed, the richest livings and fellowships which the Church of England can bestow." And yet it had been said that their living as they had at Littlemore was due to singularity and pride! "Those who entertain such an idea," the good father continues, "might in the same way calumniate our Blessed Saviour; his Apostles, and all the followers of the Gospel." Foroit was plain to any open-eyed observer that the life at Little-more was undertaken in imitation of Christ. The. ho!y and simple Italian priest, as Newman's biographer Wilfrid Ward calls Father Dominic, gets so excited at the blindness and malice of Newman's critics that he breaks into a regular, litany of puns: "O men, O English-men," he almost chants as he concludes his letter to the Tablet, hear the voice of Littlemore. Those wails bear testimony that the Catholic is.a little more than the Protestant Church, the soul a little more than the body, eternity a little more than the present time. Understand well this little more, and I am sure you "will do a little more for your eternal salvation. This is .apparently what made Newman, who was undoubtedly embarrassed by t.he good father's letter, remark that no one at Littlemore could read the letter with a grave face. Bu~ Newman does not contest the facts which Father Dominic had set down. Newman and the English Scbne Littlemore shows in some ways a .greater attraction to a life of self-abnegation and self-surrender than perhaps most religious exhibit before their novitiate. But Little-more provides us as well with the key to Newman's final decision against the religious life. For Littlemore was the place wh~re Newman retired to learn God's will in his regard, and there, were good signs.that the will of God called him elsewhere than to a r.eligious institute. 236 dulyo 1945 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE Had he been at the time of his conversion a young man, Newman might perhaps have entered a religious institute and let his life be shaped there, just as Gerard Manley Hop-kins was to do. Hopkins, an Oxford man like Newman and destined like, Newman to become a great figure in nineteenth-century literature, was converted at the 'age of twenty-two. But Newman. (who incidentally, was to be the one to receive Hopkins into the Chu.rch in 1866) was forty-four when he became a Catholic. He bad already cut himself a niche in English life. He had been the leader of a party which had split open the intellectual .world of Oxford and with it the Anglican Church; and, although the party had finally b~een .badly routed by the liberal Anglicans at the. time it lost many of its ,leaders to Rome, Newman's place in the Oxford movement had made him a marked man in England. And here we have the basic reason why New-man did not turn to. the religious state: he felt that his value to the Church, a value already fixed by his place in Eng-land's life, could not be best exploited the~e: ~ Being Taught God's Wilt .W.riting many years later to young Edmund Froude, who had rather precipitately made up his mind to be a religious, Newman sald, "I know you are a prudent boy, and I wish you gravely and continually to pray God, that you may. be taught His Will as regards you. For we must persevere in prayer, if we would learn it.''~ Newman him-self had had to persevere in prayer-to be taught God's will in his regard and this not only with regard to entering the true Church. For a year and a half after his conversion there was an interval of prayerful searching, as both New-man and his friends, eager to find what place God ,had marked out for them, felt their way about the edifice of' the 4Gordon-Huntington Harper, Cardinal Newman and William Froude, A Correspondence (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press. 1933), p. 169. ¯237 ~rALTE~ ,~. ONG ReOiew [or Reti~iou, s Church,'in which they Were at the same time.very much at home and strangely unconversant with many ordinary thifigs. They were at home because they were indeed in their Father's house, about whichthey, had been reading all their ~lives in the Scriptures and in patristic writings. But, how-ever much at home they felt, the fact was, their Father's house or no, they had never been in it before. Forthis rea-son Newman and Ambrose St. John went frorfi~England to Rome in 1846 to imp.rove their knowledge of the Church from the inside. It is a little amusing to see them cautiously smelling out different theological schools at Ro~e or still indulging in themselves something of the amazement of the benevblent Protestant who has just found thht the Cath-olic clergy are not such a bad lot after all. In this vein, Newman, en route to Rome, writes delight-edly from Langres in France to his friend Frederick Bowles that the French clergy are a merry, simple, affectionate set--some of them quite touchingly, kind and warm-hearted towards me, and only one complaining, as I think he did, of English heaviness (our stomachs were in fault) . M. La~ont is Very cheerful, hnd talks Latin well, which few of "the other clergy.do. The Dean does, and is a kind warmhearted person.5 During this time when he was gaining familiarity with the Church from inside her doors, Newman was in close contact with many religious-TDorninicans, Passionists, Jesuits, Franciscans, and others. He bad a Jesuit confessor at Rome. And Newman was certainly thinking of the various religious institutes in terms Of his usefulness in Christ's cause: "'It i~ ,one especial benefit in the Catholic ~burcb," he writes from Rome to Henry Wilberforc~, that a person's usefulness does not ~lepend on the accident of its .SWard, Life,~ I, 136. 23'8 ,lulg, ~94~ NEV~MAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE being found out. There are so many ready-formed modes of'us~ful-hess, great institutions, and orders with great privileges and means, of operation, that he has but to unite himself to one of them, and it is as if Pope and Cardinals took him.up personhlly.° Newman adds a remark which shows that he was ~hinking of the religious life as a sort of r~fuge from pos-sible ecclesiastical honors: Since, I am in for it, I will add," what (as ~far as Io know) I have. never told to anY0ne--thai, before now; my prayers have been so earnest that I never might" have dignity or station, that, as they have been heard as regar.ds the English Church, I think their will be heard now also. They were~ No honors threatened for m~n)~ weary years; but rather failure and misunderstanding. Special Responsibilities But from the time of his conversion Newman was con-scious tl~at he might have "special responsibilities" which .would not'leave his choice of a State of,life entirely free. He was afraid that these responsibilities might not be discov-ered for him evenin Rome. "I can't tell as yet," he informs . Wilberforce in the same letter, what they will make of me here, or whether they will find me but. It is very difficult to get into the mind of a person like me, especially considering so few speak English . . . and I can say .so little in Italian. Newman and St. John had indeed picked up Italian only in their leisurely journey down through Italy to Rome picked it up not without some disaster, as when, mehning to tell a departing Italian acquaintance in Milan that he hoped to.see him in the winter., St. John blunHered confi~ dently, onto the word inferno for inverno and succeeded only "in leaving the startled Italian with the understanding that the English visitor hoped to see him s6on in hell. Newman was delighted at this occurrence, for St. John Olbid., I, 151. " ¯ 239 WALTER J, ONG Review [or Religious was the greater enthusiast for the language. But when they got to R6me arid Newman could pick his way only rather gingeriy through an Italian ~onversation, he fel'tthat he w~s greatly handicapped in his efforts to find his prope,r place within the Church. Newman wanted information and advice. But "what can people know of me?'" he goes on to Wilberforce, . I don't expect people will know me. The consequence will be, that, instead of returnihg with any special responsibilities upon .me, any special work to do, I Should on my return slink into some re~ady-formed plan of operation, and if I did not become a fi~iar or a Jesuit, I should go on hiamdrumming in some theological seminary or the like. Thus Newman felt that, /:or him; fitting into a ready-made plan might indeed be "'slinking" dodging the "spe-cial responsibility." In accordance with this line of thought, the conviction that he should not join a religious institute finally won out, as it had threatened to do from the first. He writes to Dalgair.ns from Rome on the last day of the year 1846: I have'the greatest fear I am bamboozling nays.elf when'I talk of an order: and that, just as Anglicans talk of being Catholics butdraw back when it comes to the pgint, so I, at my time of life, shall never feel able to give up property and take to new habits.7 But the repugnance to giving up property was no greater,. certainly, for Newman than for many who have embraced the religious life, and it was not this, repugnance which decided him in the course he took. He goes on: -Not that I should not do it [enter a religious institute], had I a clear call--but it is so difficult to know what a. clear call is. I do not know ~nough of the rule of the different ~ongregations to haste any opinion yet--and again I do not think I could, religiously, do any-thing that Dr. Wiseman disapproved. 71bid., I, 170. 240 July, 1945 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LII::E Final Reasons for the Orator~t Even with this protestation of ignorance concerning the rules of religious institutes, Newman sbts down' at this time ¯ the reasons which were ultimately to d~termine--indeed, we[e already determining--his choice. In thinking of a. .regular life, he continues, a great difficulty . . . is my own previous history: When it comes upon me how late I am trying to serve the Church,the obvious ahswer is, Even saints, such as St. Augustine, St. Ignatius, did not begin in earnest till a late age. "Yes, but I am much older than ~hey." So then I go on to think and to trust that my past life may form a sort of aphorme [base of operations] and a ground of future usefulness. Having lived so long in Oxford, my name and person are known to a very great many people I do not know--so are my books--and I may have begun a workwhich I am,now to finishl Now the ques-tion is whether as a regular I do not at once cut off all this, as becoming a sort of instrument of others, and so clean beginning life again. As a Jesuit e.g. no one ~ould know that I was speaking my own words:" or was a continuation, as it. were, of my former self. Newman goes on to.set down a notion which he,had thought worthwhile ment.ioning to Bishop Wiseman, that he and his associates should be a group or college in Eng-land dependent on Propaganda, which still administered England in place of a regular hierarchy. "This," Newman concludes, "would not be inconsistent ~ith being Ora-torians." By the beginning of the year 1847 Newman and a group of his friends had fixed on the Oratory of St. Philip as their place in the Church--the place where prayer and common sense and the wishes of their eccclesiastical supe-riors made it plain that God wanted them. In the spring of t847 Newman, St. John, W. Goodenough Penny, J. D. Dalgairns, Robert Coffin, Richard Stantc~n, and F. S. Bowles began a brief novitiate at Rome, and in January of the following year the first English Oratorian ~ommunit~r 241 WALTER J. ONG began tO assemble at Birmingham under a rule adapted slightly to the demands of life in England. Newman's Choice and Prbvidence The event proved that Newman's calculations were {ralid, that his patient and' prayerful search had effectively laid his life in the hands of Providence. For it was to the best interests of Christ's Kingdom that Newman should remain preeminently an individual in the minds of the English people. The English never succeeded in under-standing Newman the Catholic. They would never even have tried to understand Newman the religious---the mem-ber of some weird and superstitious'posse of the Pope's. But with Newman the individual they could at least try to sympathize. And that is how Newman won his countrymen in his ,.Apologia pro Vita Sua, diverting the currents of feeling which swirled confusedly about him into channels friendly to the Church. In 1845 and 1846 and 1847 Newman could not see ahead to the Apologia, in which he was to l~iy bare the history of his religious convictions and jus-ti. fy his conversion to Catholicity. But in the Provi-dence of God, which calls some to one kind of life ai~d some to another, "disposing all things sweetly," he took the step in 1847. which made the Apologia possible and turned his life from a long series of failures into.a great spiritual suc-cess. Had he become a .religious, Newman would have had the same story to tell as he tells in the Apologia. But, as he shrewdly foresaw in 1846, no one would have belie~'ed that he was speaking his own words. In the Oratory of St. Philip, only loosely tied to his associates, he remained .in the popular mind Newman, the individual Englishman. That made" possible the work which God bad for him to do. 242 Why Does Father Ask Questions? Gerald Kelly, S.J. DURING the years of his seminary training,, the young priest-to'be is thoroughly instructed in the duties of those who go to confession anal is also made acquainted with some of the principal difficulties that his future, peni-tents might experience. ' This is as it should be, The priest should be able to help and sympathize with his penitents. But that is only one side of the picture. The confessor-. penitent relationship .is "mutual; and, particularly from the point of view of the penitent, it is, perhaps the most pro-f0u. ndly intimate relationship in the world. The penitent often reveals things to the confessor that he Would not dis-close to anyone, else, even his dearest friend.It seems logical, therefore, that the penitent ought to know something of the duties and problems of the confessor. Catholics do know, in.a rather vague way, something of the confessor's duties and difficulties. They know that he ~ears their sins as the ambassador of God and that he is bound by the most rigid and sacred secrecy possible. And they can readily understand that long hours in the confes-sional must be tiresome and must create a. spei:ial :difficulty with regard to the practice of such virtues as patience and kindness. But there are many things that they do not understand" and one of these seems to be the asking of questions by the.confessor.~ If we may judge from remarks heard in conversations about confession, we may conclude that penitents fall into three rather general classes with respect to being questionbd by the confessor. Some penitents rather like it because it 243 GERALD KELLY Reoieu~ for Religiou~ makes their own task easier and makes them more satisfied that their confession was good. Others definitely resent ~luestioning; they want to say what they have to say and then be allowed to go in peace. Still others neither like nor resent the questioning, but among these many wonder why questions are asked. All these classes of penitents--and of course all who teach catechism and instruct others how~ to go to confession--would very likely profit by-a knowledge of som'e of the reasons why the priest questions °~hem; and if they ~kriew these reasons they would very likely try to improve their methods of going to confession and thus avoid the necessity of questions. As a judge in the placeof Christ, the priest gives abso-lution to a worthily-disposed sinner and refuses absolu-tion to the sinner who is not sufficiently disposed. This is the most imporl)ant office of the confessor; but it is not his only.' function. He is also a pb~tsician., with the duty of healing the wounds of sin.and prescribing remedies for the "future; he is, to some extent~ a teacher, with the duty of instructing the ignorant; and he is the spiritual ~:atber to his penitent, with the° duty of giving paternal admonitions, counsel, affd e.ncouragement. In each and' all of these capacities, the priest might tinct reasons, for questioning pe.nitents. I" cannot discuss all these reasons here; but I should like to call attention to those tbat might be most common or most important. Sut~cien't Matter? For the instruction of. seminarians and for the help. of priests, moral theologians sometimes prepare ~¢hat thev call "case books"--that is, books of practical problems that ~the priest .is likely~ to encounter in.his ministry. To make the problem concrete, it is proposed in the form "of a ficti-tious incident. The student is to,decide what he would do 244 ,lul.q, 1945 \VllY DOES FATHER ASK QUES'I~IONS? under the circumstances; then he can check his solution with the solution offered by the author of the book. I can illustrate the first reason why a priest might ask questions by two s.ample Confessions taken from one of these case books. The first confession is that of a devout woman named Eudoxia. "I never detract others, as many women do," EuSoxia tells her confessor. "I have had to listen to men blaspheme, but.I told them I disapprove of their language. And I forgot to say my morning prayers several times.". That, according to the case book, is Eudoxia's entire confession. Not. a real sin is mentioned; and there is no concluding accusation of the sins of her past life. So far as absolution is concerned, Eudoxia might just as well be a newly baptized baby. But there is this l~rofound difference between Eudoxia and the baby" the baby has not sinned, whereas Eudoxia--unless she has the special privilege given to Our Lady--most certainly has committed some small sins, at least in he.r past life. The confessor's problem is to get her to confess a sin. "Perhaps you have told some small lies, or given way to impatience, or committed some other small sins; like sins of vanity?" the confessor asks Eudoxia. Most of us, I am sure, would call this an easy, safe approach, Tl~ere is" nothing particularly opprobrious about these .sins,.and even very good people occasionally fall into them. But not Eudoxia! "Far be it from me, Father," she replies firmly, ever to commit any of those sins!" With that we can leave Eudoxia to her confessor. He may try to explain to her how all people commit some small, sins, and that in her case it is just a matter of recog-nizing the sins and perhaps of examining her conscience more carefully. He might even indicate that she could get some valuable information abmit herself from. those "other 245 GERALD KELLY women" of whom she spoke in her confession or from those men who blasphemed in her presence. But he may not and cannot give absolution until he knows, there is something to absolve. Virtues, mere imperfections, involuntary acts, and doubtful sins (for example: "I accuse myself in so far asI amguilty") arenot sufficient matter for absolution;' and if a confessionconsists entirely of such things~ the con-fessor simply has to ask questions. ¯ Anbther sample confession, taken from the same case bbok, will illustrate the problem of insufficient matter under a slightly different aspect. This time the penitent is a man, .whose Latin name is best translated by Goodfellow. "'Father," runs Goodfellow's confession, "I haven't anything to confess except that I frequently had impure thoughts, and once, when I was traveling, I missed Mass on Sunday." That is the whole of Goodfellow's confession. He seems tO be a man of few deeds and fewer words. The prin-dipal difference between his and Eud0xia's confessions is that Eudoxia deaily confessed no sins, whereas Goodfellow may be confessing real sins. Every confessor learns, after some little ~xperience, that the accusation, "I had impure thoughts," does,not necessarily mean sin. It could mean that the penitent committed a mortal sin against purity_; but it could also mean that the penit.ent was merely tempted against purity--in other words, that the thoughts were entirely involuntary and not at all culpable. And the same may be said for Goodfellow's failure to hear Mass. Devout people sometimes confess "missing Mass," even when they had. a broken leg. They. do not really mean that they sinned; they merely feel better when they tell the confessor aboutoit. Goodfellow might be one of these devout people; perhaps his journey made it impossible to .hear Mass and lie knew this .was no sin. 246 dul~,IP45 WHY DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? If Goodfellow's impure thoughts were involuntary and he had a good excuse or thought he had a good excuse 'for missing Mass, his confession is the same as Eudoxia's: it Gontains no real sin. Strictly speaking, things like this should not be confessed unless one wishes to get, some advice about them; but if the peni.tent does confess them, he should indicate .that they were not sins and should ' include in his confession some other matter for absolution. Otherwise the confessor must ask questions. Mortal or Venial Sin? Even if Goodfellow's impure thoughts were really sin-ful, there would still be a further problem for the confessor. He has to judge, in so far as this is reasonably possible, whether the penitent ~ommitted a venial sin.or a mortal sin: and this judgment is particularly difficult .to make with regard to such things as internal sins. As I said before, the accusation, "I had impure thoughts," may refer merely to a. temptation, in which case it would be no sin at all. But it could also mean that the penitent was guilty of some negli-gence in getting rid of impure thoughts--and this, though it would be a venial, sin, is a far cry from full consent and deliberate mortal sin. All of us learfied (or were supposed to learn) in cate-chism class that a full-fledged mortal sin must have three. elements: serious matter, sufficient ~eflection, and full con-sent of the will. In some types of[accusations a confessor can readily presume that all these elehaents were present;but in many other~ be must ask a question or tWO to determine whether the matter was really, serious or whether there was sufficient reflection and full consent. It is often very difficult, even after questioning, to.forma judgment regarding reflec-tion and consent; and it can happen that both the penitent and the confessor will have to leave the judgment to God. 247 GERALD KELLY Review for Religious But they are not supposed to "leave it to God" without r~aking some reasonable effort to decide it for themselves. I might mention here that the judgment concerning d~gree of guilt is not nearly so important as the judgment ~oncerning sufficiency of matter. A mistake concerning sufficient matter (for example: if the confessor judged that the confession contained real sin when not even a real venial sin was included in thea c'cusa"tion) would make the abso-lution invalid, even though the penitent, being in good faith, would commit no sin. But a mistake in judging the degree of guilt (for example: by judging a sin to be mortal when it was only venial, or vice vers)~) would not affect the validity of the absolution. The Law or: Integrity Reminiscing on catechism days will also bring to our minds the la~ of Christ that all mortal sins must be con-fessed according to species and number: in other words, the ekact kind of ~in committed andthe exact number of times each sin was committed, in so far as the penitent can tell these details, must be confessed. If the priest notices that this law is not being kept, he must prudently help the penitent by questions. The man who has committed mur-der does not satisfy this obligation by merel.y saying that he violated the Fifth Commandment, because there are many ways of violating that Commandment; and if he murdered his brother he would not satisfy his obligation by saying that he had killed a man, because homicide and fratricide are different kinds of sins. Finally, if we make the wild supposition that he bad seven brothers and that he mur-dered them all, he would not fulfill the law of integral con-fession by simply saying that he had murdered his brothers, because he "is Supposed to tell how many mortal sins he committed. 248 dulg, 1945 WHY DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? I realize that homicide and fratricide are not the regular subject-matter for confessions. A Commandment that would probably touch the lives of ordinary people more ¯ closely would be the Sixth. And the confession of sins against this Commandment present~ special difficulties for both penitent and confessor. Penitents find the confession of sins of impurity embarrassing, and they would naturally 'like to keep their accusation as general as possible. Further-more. they often do not know just how to express them-selves, perhaps because they feel that they do not know the proper terms to be used in the confessional. As for the con-fessor, it is easily seen how he might find the questioning of penitents concerning sins of impurity a particularly delicate matter. The best solution to' the mutual embarrassment problem is to have the penitent try to keep the law of .integrity by confessing in his own words the kind of sin he committed. The confession should be brief and to the point. The confessor can hardly fail to understafid: and thus the need of questions, at least on this score, will be avoided. Of course, there are 15enitents who prefer to be questioned in this matter because they find it too difficult to express themselves without help. These penitents should at least mention their inability to the confessor and asl( for his assistance. True Contrition? A very important--in fact, an essential--judgment to be made by the confessor concerns the penitent's disposition. Practically speaking, tbis means that before giving absolu-tion the confessor must judge that his penitent has. true contrition, at least imperfect contrition. Absolution can-not be ~'alid if the penitent has not this minimum'disposi-sition. ¯Generally speaking, of course, the presumption is that 249 GERALD KELLY Review for Religious ¯ people do not confess their,sins unless they are sorry for them. But this presump.tion admits of many exceptions, as the moral theologiai~s are careful to point out. For instance, there is thecase of the penitent w, ho has been prac-t. ically forced to confession by wife, m0ther~ br teacher. It is true that even under such circumstances a good confession can be made; but there is a very real danger that such con-fessions might be insincere and that genuine contrit.ion and desire for absolution mil~ht be lacking. Another difficulty tha't might make for defective contrition is lack of instruc-tion. Great moralists like St. Alphonsus' Liguori point out that many simple people are a~t to get the habit of going to confession without really appreciating the need of contrition; especially with reference to purpose of amend-ment. In all.cases like the above, where the confessor has a reasonable .suspicion that-contrition is lacking or defective, he must ask a question or two. And besides these general difficulties there are certain sl~ecific problems concerning which he must be especially careful. Among these specific cases a m6st important one .is that of the penitent with a habit of serious sin. . The habitual sinner is apt to have a very vague and ineffective purpose of amendment. In. a general way he wants to break his habit, but he fails to decide on any deft-nite way of doing so. Strong habits are not broken in that way. One must.try to find the reason for his habit and try to remove that reason. The habit may be the result of his own weakness; and in this case he must take some means to strengthen himself. Or the habit may be connected with an occasion of sin; and in this event some very drastic measures may" halve to be taken, with regard to the occasion. These are basic points concerning habits of sin; yet the penitent may be ignorant of them and unconscious of his need for 250 J~,ty, 1945 Wl-iy DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? help. And even if he feels his need very acutely, even if h~ is dreadfully discouraged--a not uncommon effect of habits of impurity---~ he may be too timid to ask for help; hence, if the .confessor does not takethe initiative, great harm may result. Even when a habitual sinner shows good Will his pr6b-lem is apt to be a'difficult one, because.it is not always easy to determine the exact ~ause of the trouble and to prescribe an immediately effective remedy. But the difficulty is much more serious when the penitent manifests a lack of sincer-ity: for example,, if he returns to the same confessor again and again without having made any attempt to follow advice, or if he goes from one confessor to another in order to find an "easy" one or to avoid the .need of giving an account of himself. Human nature is prone, to seek the ehsy ¯ way, and the very law of the Church which allows peni-tents a choice of confessors can be abused in such a way ~s to defeat the purpose of confession. Knowing these things. the confessor cannot omit questions when he notices or has a solid reason for suspecting that his peniten( is insincere. Other Reasons :or Questions. Thus far I have given the principal reasonswhy a con-lessor might feel obliged to ask questions: namely, to determine if there is sufficient matter foi absolution; to decide the degree of sinfulness; to help the penitent to make'- a complete, confession; to test the penitent,'s disposition; and to give needed advice and encouragement. Another very important reason is his desire to correct a false con-science. .These and similar purposes all fall within the scope of his sublime office as minister of the sacrament-- as judge, physiciah, teacher, and spiritual father. And to these we might add the simpler and more natural reasons, such as the fact that he does not hear what is.said, or that 25! GERALD KELLY . he is, not 'sure h.e catches "the penitent's meaning. And finally, the confessor is not exempt~from such difficulties as distractions and sleepiness. His mind may wander, and.his head may nod! If penitents were to keep all these things i'n mind, they would not resent questions, bfit they would try to make their confessions sufficiently clear and complete to allow the confessor tom keep his questions to the mini-mum. No doubt-it is true that occasionally unnecessary and even useless questions are asked: but this is'not the rule. Questioning penitents is seldom pleasant. Books Received ¯(From A~rll ZO to ,lune 20) " " LONGMANS~ GREEN. AND CO., INC., London, New York, Toronto. Enjoying the Neu~ Testament. By Margaret T. Monro. $2.50. THE BRUCE PUBLISHING CO. Milwaukee. A Dynamic 1~7or/.d Order. By Rt. Rev. Msgr. Donald~A. Mac Lean, A. M., S.T.L., Ph.D. $2.50. Weapons for Peace. By Thomas P. Neill. $2.50. CATECHETICAL GUILD, St. Paul, Minn. That You Mug Liue. By L. F. Cervantes, S.J. $2.00. SOCIETY OF SISTERS OF THE HOLY NAMES, Marylhurst, Oregon. The Hope of the Hart, est. By a-Sister of the Holy Names. $4.00 (plus postage). FREDERICK PusTET CO., INC., New~ York. Meditations on Eternitg for t~eligious. By the Venerable Mother Julienne Morell, O.P. $2.50. B. HERDER BOOK CO., St. Louis. A Retreat for Religious. By Rev. Andrew Green, O.S.B. $2.00. Christian Denominations. By Rev. Konrad Algermissen. $7.50. MOTHERHOUSE OF IMMACULATE CONCEPTION, Cdnvent Heights, New Britain, Conn. D,n'l~) Progress in Religious Virtues. By Rev. John Pitrus, S.T.D.'$1.60. 252 Perl:ecfion Is Union wish God Augustine Klaas, S.3. WE OFTEN HEAR it said.that spiritual perfection is union with God .and that~ the moreintimate this union is, the greater our perfection. The statement is true;but is there not frequently some haziness of mind as to just what is meant by. union With God and how it per-tains to perfection? Let .us examine variouskinds of union with God and their relation to spiritual perfectionl Hgposti~tic Union with God 'The closest union of our human nature with the divine is had in Jesus_Christ by rdason, of the hypostatic union, that is, the union of the divine and human natures of Christ in the Person of the Word. One Persofi, the Son of God, having a divine nature from all eternity, took to Himself a human nature like our very own from. the flesh of Mary, and by a viriginal birth became also .the son of Mary. "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt' among us" (John 1 : 14). ~Or as. Pope Saint Leo the Great graphically expresses it: "the Wisdom of God built a house in the flesh, whkh He took from a human being, and which He animated with a -rational soul." The human nature of.Christ ever remains distinct from the divine, but the two natures, are subs[an-t~ iallg united in the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. This is the closest possible .union of our human nature with God. Such an intimate, substantial union of the human and the divine is had in Jesus Christ alone, for revelation tells of only one hypostatic union. It were blasphemy to say that in our pursuit of perfection we could ever attain to such an 253 AUGUSTINE KLAAS for Religious immediate union with God. We cannot even understand its character fu!ly since'it is an ineffable mystery. Before it we can only bow our heads in faith, in adoration, and in grati-tude, too, because from the hypostat!c union comes not only our sublime Model of perfection, but also from it, as from a fo~antainbead, flow all our grace, justification, incorporation into the Mystical Body, spiritual perfection. and ultimately our everlasting:union with God in heaven. Union with God in Hea~)en The blessed Jn heaven are intimately united to God. This union of our human nature with ,the divine is not substantial, like the previous one, but only accidental. Called the beatific vision, it is an immediate intuitive p.er-ception of the essence of God ~esuking in 10ve, and a sati-ating joy and bliss that Will last forever. Aided .by the "light of glory; the blessed see God face to face. .'.'We see'nqw, ,through a glass in a dark manner.; but then fa~e to face" (I Corinthians 13" 12). And because of this direct vision of God the blessed love God to' their utmost and are supremely happy for all eternity~ They can neither increase nor diminish this union, since their time of probation is over. They are home at last in their Father's house. ¯ However, union with God in heaven is not had by all the blessed in the same degree, for "there are many man-sions" in our~elestial abode. What determines its degree? The degree o.f our vision of God and of our capacity for love and happiness .hereafter is indirect proportion to the sanctifying grace, merit, and spiritual perfection we have acquired in this l~fe. In other words, the degree.of our union with God in heaven is measured wholly by the degree of our union with God on earth. Union with God on Earth On earth we are united to God' by sanctffging grace. 254 dul~,1945 PERFECTION IS uNIoN WITH GOD Pope Leo XIII in his encyclical on the Holy spirit explains this union as follows: No. one can express the greatness of this work of divine grace in the souls.of men. Wherefore, both in Holy Scripture and in the Gritings. of the Fathers, men are styled regenerated, new creatures, partakers of 0the Divine Nature, children of God, godlike, and similar el~ithets. Now these great blessings are justly'considered as especially belonging to the. Holy Spiri.t . . . He not only .brings to us His Divine gifts, 15ut is the Author of them and is Himself the supreme Gift . To show tile nature and e~icacy of this gift it is.wel! to recall the explanation given by thee Doctors.of the Church of the words of Holy Scripture. Tfiey say that God is.present and exists in'all thin, gs by His. power, in so far as all things are sub'ject toHis power; by His presence, inasmuch a's al! thin~s are uncovered and open to His eyes; by His essence, inasmuch as He is present to all.as the cause of their being (St. Thomas, Summa Tbeologica I, Q. 8, Art. 3). But God is' in ma.n, not just as. in lifeles~ things, but in the.furthe.r way thaf He is also known and loved by him, since even by nature we spontane-ously love, desire and seek after the good.~ Moreover, God by'grac~ resides in the justsoul.as in a temple, in a most intimateand peculiar manner. From this proceeds that union of affection by which the soul adheres cl~sely to God, mor~ so than the friend is united t6 his most lovi.ng and beloved friend,' ~nd enjoys God in all fulness and sweetness. Now this wonderful union, which is prop~ly called "indwelling," differing only in degree or state from that with which God beatifies the saints in Heaven, alt1~ougl4 it is most certainly produced by ~the presence of the whole Blessed Trin-ity--" We {vill come to him, and will make .our abode ,with him" (dohn 14: 23)--nevertheless' is attributed in .a peculiar manner to the Holy Spirit. " Habitual union with God present in the~soul in a pecul-iar way through sanctif)fing, grace is of. the very essence of spiritual perfection in this world, since without sanct.ifying. grace we are supernaturallyand spiritualIy dead. On the other hand, the more sanctifying grace is increased in our souls by the worthy r.eception of the sacraments, especially of the Holy Eucharist, and by the assiduous practice of .the 255 AUGUSTINE KI~AAS Review [or Religious virtues, principally charity, the more, intimate becomes our habitual union with God and "the greater our spiritual.per-fection. When We shall have.acquired the maximum sanc-tifying grace we are capable of, granted our particular, indi-vidual opportunities of nature and.of grace, then.we shall hard attained to the closes~ habitual union with God and tbe highest perfection. This fundamental, essential perfec-tion spiritual writers sometimes call static, perfectior~. There is still another union with God flowing almost spontaneously from the'preceding'one-active union. Ac-tive union with God is called d~cnamic perfection and is what we ordinarily mean when we speak of spiritual per-fection. It consists in union with God by mind and will activity. Union with God b~t Mind Activity Active union with God" through intellect is had by thinking of God, by acquiring more and more knowledge of Him and His divine attributes fromthe .double source of reason and supernatural faith. Such knowledge of God is highly praised in Holy Scripture: "For to know thee is perfect justicei and to know thy justice, and thy power, is'tbe root of immo~tali,ty" (Wisdom 15:3). And Saint Paul: "Furthermore I count all things to be but loss for the ' excellent knowledge of Jesus Christ my lord (Philippians 3:8) . in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2:3). Among the Fathers of the Church, did not Saint Augustine epitomize the whole of the spiritual life as an ever increasing knowledge of self and of God? By knowledge of God is here meant not. merely theo-retical knowledge, scientific knowledge, knowledge of God acquired chiefly by the study of philosophy and theology, book knowledge, if you will. Practical knowledge of God. 256 July, 1945 PERFECTION I$ ~JNION WITH GOD that is, knc~wledge inducing will activity, , is still more important. Let us evaluate knowl~dge of God with refer~ ence to perfection. Theoretical knowledge of God is excellent. It can be, .and frequently is, a puissant help and incentive' tospiritual perfection. However, it must be asserted that while such knowledge provides a useful soiid basis for perfection, it does not constitute our spiritual perfection, nor even.indi-care the degree of perfection we may possess. Have there ¯ not been saints, like Benedict Labre and Bernadette Soubi-rous, whose scientific theoretical knowledge of God was ¯ very meager? On the other hand, do we not sometimes see students of theology, who have a verst superior knowledg~ of God and work at it all day long; leading imperfect liveR? The fallen angels have an excellent theoretical knowledge of God, but they are the very opposite of perfect. Eminent theologians warn us that perfection "does not consist in union with God by mind activity alone, even a great deal o~ it. "Tell me, dear Father," said Brother Giles one day to the learned Saint Bonaventure, "can a simple, uneducated person love God as much as a scholar? . Yes," replied Bonaventure, "a simple, little old grandmother can love God more¯ than a master of theology." Whereupon, we are told, guileless Brottier Giles rose up, rushed out ¯ th?ough the garden and along the streets of the town crying at the top Of his voice: :"O poor, ignorant, simple old grand-mother, love Gri!! You can still overtake Brother Bona-venture." If this is true, what the little old gran.dmother probably bad was not so much a theoretical as a practical, a '~realized" knowledge of God, a knowledge leading to,the firm judgment.and deep conviction:' "I must value and 10ve God above all else." ¯UpOn this pract!cal mind activity can be built the loftiest perfection, but in itself it still is not the union with God that is equated with spiritual perfection. 257 AUGUSTINE "KLAAS Reoiew for~ Retigiou; Hence, .while we must greatly esteem knowledge of God, both theoretical ~nd practical, and strive constantly and perseveringly to incre~ise it, by meditation, .by spiritual reading, by delving deeper into the truths of faith, by ofien recalling the presence of God. by recollection, and the like, we must not remain content with only that. If we would be perfect we must pass from union with God by mere mind activity to something b~yonfl, to something still more. pre-. cious, to union witb God' by will activity,by~love. Saint Teresa of Avila says t.hat clearly when discussing union with God in her Foundations (chapter 5): "The soul's advancement, does not conist in thinking much; but in loving much." Our spiritual perfection .is measured, .therefore, not by our knowledge of God, even though it be the knowledge of strong supernatural faith, but rather by" our~active lo~¢e of Him. That is why Saint Thomas can say that "the love of those things which are above us; and especially of God, is to be preferred to the knowledge ~f them: Wherefore charity is more excellent than fafth" ¯ (Summa II-II. Q. 23, Art. 6). A'nd so the little old grand~ mother could probably never overtake the saintly Doctor of the Church by her mind activity, even hi~r practical mind activity: she could overtake him by her will, by her union with God through will acti~;ity, by her active love of God. : Union with God by Will Actiuitg Presupposing in the soul a-close union With God through sanctifying grace and a certain necessary union with Him through mind activi(y, we maintain that spir-itual perfection consists above all in union with God by will activity, that is, by active love of God. Supernal~ural faith and hope must be present in the soul, but we are per-fect in proportion as we love God more; and when we have 258 du1~,1945 PERFECTION IS UNION WITH GOD attained the maximum.activelove of God we are capable of with the assistance of grace, then we have reached the very summit of the mount of perfection. Active love is th~ norm and gauge of spiritual perfection. We are just as perfect as we are united to God by active love of Him. Such is the unanimous teaching of Catholic theologians. as for instance, Saint Thomas, who states in his Perfection of Spiritual Life that "the spiritual life consists principall~r in charity. He is simply perfect in the spiritual life who is perfect in charity."° It is' the teaching of the Fathers of the Church who agree with Saint Augustine when he informs us in. his work On Nature and Grace that "incipi-ent charity is incipient justice [justice here means holiness] ; advanced charity is advanced justice; great charity.is great justice; perfect charity is perfect justice." It is the teaching of Saint Paul (I Corinthians 13). It is the explicit teaching of Christ Himself: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and withlthy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. This is the greates.t and the first com-mandment. And the second-is like to th~s:.Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." (Matthew 22:37-39.) And again: "Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). And Saint ~John explains: ':God is charity. '" (I John 4: 16).1 Degrees of Union with God Spiritual masters have made many attempts to give us ~he ascending scale, of degrees in this unifying love of God and the characteristics that mark each degree. They are at ,variance in detail; fundamentally, however, they are in accord, for the main landings on the grand stairway leading to the highest love of God are p.retty well known and agreed upon by all. There are three suchlafidings or degrees of 1For. a fuller treatment of this point, el. Revi'eto for Reliyious, Vol. I, pp. 238 sqq. 259 ¯ ~,UGUSTINE KLAAS union with God through love. In the first the soul is so united to God and loves Him to such a degree that it habitually avoids all mortal sin and the occasions of grave sin. It has a nascent but still feeble desire for greater perfection; it still commits many venial sins, but it struggles valiantly and successfully against strong temptations. Penance for the past, purification, and mortification characterize this rather negative degree. Its prayer is mainly discursive meditation on the .fundamental truths of faith, particularly the four last things. This is the degree of beginners in the life of perfection and it is called the Purgative W.ay. in the second degree, the soul not only avoids all mor-tal sin, but habitually rejects deliberate venial sin. It makes advances in detachment from creatures and has an inc.reasing desire for perfection. The degree is more positive than negative, since the emphasis is on the acquirement of the virtues, especially by the imitation ot~ and assimilation to Christ, "the way, the truth, and the life." The prayer in this degree tends to be predominantly affective. It is the degree of those ad.vancing in perfection: it is called the" Illuminative Way. Presupposing the habitual practice of the other two, the third degree is marked by the struggle to reduce semi-deliberate venial sins and imperfections to the minimum. The soul has made great strides towards heroic detachment and is now intent on the maximum practice of the counsels and works of supererogat!on. Its manner of praying becomes more and more simple, contemplation of God's attributes being a favorite form in this degree. Intense charity permeates all its activity, since it now lives for God alone. This is the Unitive W.ay. Of course, these degrees cannot be rigidly delimited. Nor does .the soul. leave one degree and proceed to the next 260 July, 1945 PERFECTION IS UNION WITH GOD mechanically: it may. be and generally.is ~to some extent in all degrees at once. For example, in.order.to keep onese!f babitually from mortal sin, does one not have to observe a certain number of.the counsels? ~.Is the soul in the third degree exempt from doing penance? The Whole matter is one 0f emphasis, and according to the predominance of the va.rious.qualities noted above, a soul.can be easily placed in one of the tb?ee degrees. Moreover, tb~ third degree admits of indefinite progress, since we can neverlove God as much as He can be loved, and hence; our unions with Him can ,ever become more., intimat~ ag long as we live on this earth. Perf.ect and Imperfect. Love of God From the restricted viewpoi.nt of, nobility of moti~ce .two kinds Of active love of God may be distinguished. can love God above all else because He is good to us. Such is the love of God .indicated by the Psalmist when .be exclaims: "For thee my flesh and my heart hath fainted away" thou art the God of-my b.eart, and the God that is my portion forever" (Psalms 72:26). And again: ."I will ¯ love thee, O Lord,my strength.: the Lord, is-my firmament, my.refu'ge, and ~my deliverer . " .(Psalms 1'7:2). Our Lord appeals to thismotive when He proposes "treasure. in bea'Oen. '~ tbe"bundredfold," and "life e.verlasting." Because of the less perfect nature of the motive this love of God, called "imperfect love" or "i.nterested love" of God. it is already a great deal and should by no means be contemned or slighted, but there is a higher love of God springing from a nobler motive: "perfect. love," or as it is sometimes called "disinterested love", of God. "Perfect love" of God is had when We love Him above all else not so much for the good He so generously bestows on us, but for Himself, because He is all-good in Himself. , This "perfect love" is known as the love of benevolence and 261 AUGUSTINE KL&AS Revietv /:or Religio~s friendship. In its exercise we prescind from our own inter-ests or at least subordinate them to Him, since we love God simply for Himself,, and not for our own advantage. "Fhis highest of motives makes this the highest type of love of .God. In it we take complacent delight in God and in His perfections; we ardent!y desire to glorify Him; we actively give glory to Him by conforming our will as much as pos-sible in all. things to His: we .bring others to glorify Him. And all tl~is simply because God is God,.because God is all-good and all-lovable in Himself. The love Of benevolence affd friendship: is perfected extensively when we embrace by our lov~ more of the per-fections of God and more of His creatures; it: is perfected intensivelty when we make the acts of love more vehemently and more constantly until we develop a solid habit of the perfect love of God. W'hen the love reaches the maximum we are capable of then we are simply perfect. M~/stic Union with God Finally, there is still another union with God for which the union by rhind and will activity is an indispensable preparation. It is mystic union, a special gift of God's grace to His favored friends. Mystic unidn with God, an earthly union which approaches that of theblessed in heaven, is not necessary for spiritual perfection, but it is a potent means to it because it results insublime and intense acts of the perfect love of God. The precious gift of mystic union generally presupposes in him who receives it an advanced degree of union with God by active love, espe-cially perfect love. Conclusion To conclude by way of.summary: spiritual perfection is union with. God. It is union with God by a maximum 262 July/, 1945 ' PERFECTION IS UNION WITH GOD of sanctifying grace, called static perfection. It is unio.,n., with God. by a certain am.ount of necessary supernatura'[ mind activity, theoretical and practical. It is union with God by a maximum of supernatural will activity, a maxi-mum of the perfect love of God, called dynamic perfecti.on. This earthly union with God .whkh is our perfecti6n merits for us and is the measure~of our Union with God in "heaven, our ultimate, inamissible perfection. All our union with God, both in heaven and on earth, all.our spiritual perfection, we owe to the hyp0static union with God had in Jesus Christ, since He as God-man merited them fbr us by His life, passion and death. Moreover, He is the peerless Model of all spiritual perfection and union with God. PAMPHLET NOTICES It seems that religious institutes in increasing numbers are issuing pamphlets and other material to attract aspirants to their ranks. This is as it should be. One such pamphlet comes from South Africa and bears the title, Priestly/ and Religious Voca-tion. After giving a brief account of the m. issionary activity of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, the author, Father T. F. Kelly, O.M.I., describes the nature and signs of vocation both in relation to the priesthood and to the religious life. He con-cludes with an earnest plea to the generous young people of South Africa to heed' the call of Christ. The pamphlet may be.obtained from the Oblate Novitiate, 44 Park-hill Road, Glebe, Germistou, Transvaal, South Africa. With the same purpose in mind the Sisters of Loretto, Lor~tto M0therho~se, Ner~inx. P.O., Kentucky, have issued a folder entitled "Congratulations Pegg~It."' Written in the form of a letter to a young woman about to enter the novitiate it gives us a brief account of the founding, the history, and the ~vork of the Lorettines in the Uuited States and in China. Some good photogral~hs depicting houses and activities of the congregation greatly increase the value of the folder. Father Albert H. Dolan, O.Carm., the zealous promoter of devotion to St. Therese of Lisieux, has issued a pamphlet, St. Therese, Patroness of the Mis-sions. In 16 pages he sets forth the reasons why SL Therese was chosen as Patron-ess of the Missions and urges her devout clients to follow her example of prayer and unfemittipg sacrifice for the missions. The pamphlet may be obtained from The Carmelite Press, 6413 Dante Avenue, Chicago, Illinois, or 55 Demarest Avenue; Engie~ood, N.J. Piice: ten cents. 263 Our,.Lady's Parents Francis L. Filas, S.3. MUCofH thaes p waree Wntso.u lodf l iOkue rt o,L'kandoyw, w thee c aacnt"u afli nlidf en-osttohriyng directl'y concerning them in the Gospels. However~ Holy Scripture gives us some information in stating that Christ was promised to Abraham and to 3acob, ~nd that He came out of the tribe of 3uda.1 This means that 3esus was a son of David and a son of Abraham, not only legally ~hrough St. 3oseph but also naturally through the Blessed Virgin, and therefore through her parents, 3oachim and /~nne. Various Scripture scholars have proposed a rather ingenious theory tO show that Luke set forth the genealogy of Mary rather than of 3oseph when he.wrote, "And 3esus Hi.resell, when He began His work, was about thirty years . of age, beingmas was supposed--the son of 3osdph, the son of Heli . : . the son of David . . the son of Adam. who was the son of God" (3:23). According to this the-ory the text is phrased differently so as to read, "3esus. being--as was suppbsed the son of 3oseph--the sori of Hell," and so,forth. Thus the person of Heli is identified with the person of 3oachim. Even further, the two names are said~ to be the same, for "Hell" ~Eli) is taken as a shortened form of "Eliachim." Both "Eliachim'~ and "3oachim" are interchangeable, meaning in Hebrew, "God sets up." Unfortunately, so charming a .theory is far from being accepted by all Scripture scholars. From earliest times the ¯ genealogies of Matthew and Luke have usually been inter- XGenesis 18,22, 28; Luke 1:32; Romans'l :3; 2 Timothy 2:8; Hebrews 8. 264 OUR LADY'S PARENi'S preted as giving the 1,egaI ancestry of Our Lord through St. Joseph and not through Mary. This has been the gen-eral tenor of opinion even thoug,19 no one theory fits per-fectly in further explaining th~ problems connected with the two varying accounts. Because of this silence ofthe Gospels we must turn to the only other possible sources of information concerning Mary's parents: the Iegends of Joachim and Anne. The Legends of Joachim and Anne At first sigh~ it might)seem a worthless task to have recourse to a legend to seek data about historic personages. Yet in the case of Joachim and Anne nothing else exists. We must at least consider what' was said about them, even if we cannot a~cept it all as true. The earliest account in which they are mentioned.-is Called the Protoeoange! of James, a work pretending to be a history of the birth of Mary and of the early events in tl~e life of Jesus. 'Having originated about 150 A, D., it is 0nly a hundred years younger than the Gospels and thus enjoys a reputation of antiquity. .- In common with other apocryphal literature ,of its type the Protoeoanget of James was apparently based on snatches of true tradition--a sort.of 'pious gossip---con-cerning Christ and those who were near to Him. Some~ thing like our modern historical novel, the Protoevanget wa~ meant to fill in with plausible details the gaps where the curiosity of the faithful was left unsatisfied by the four Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke~ and John. But unlike "these Gospels the Apocryphal tradition was of purely human origin. It was neither divinely inspired when com-posed nor providentially kept pure when transmitted. Accordingly, as it was.repeated again and again in word and writing, it accumulated more and more exaggerations, 265 FRANCIS L. FILAS R6biew for Religious and additions, so that at the present day we have no way of determining what is genuine and what is spurious in ~its content. The Chur~ch never accepted this imitation of the true Gospels, but early branded it as apocryphal'(as, for example, in .the Decree' of Pope Gelasius in 495). The majority of early Fa,thers of the Church, as well as later ecclesiastical writers, likewise recognized it as counterfeiL None the less, popular authors in the Middle Ages and afterward borrowed .extensively from .the legendary, source in order to stimulate the great ~levotion of the Ages of Faith. In all this spurious devotional literature the ques-tion of lying or passing on a lie was seemingly not attended to; rather, generous hearts uncritically sought and eagerly accepted every means to gain mbre knowledge, of the lives of desus and His saints. Two enlargements were made of the legend of ,loachiin and Anne as it appeared in the Pt'ptoevar~gd of da~es: namely, the Gospel of Pseado-Matthev~ (about 450 A. D.) and the Gospel of the Nativity/ [~f Mat'V (exact date unknown). As is evident, there is more likelihood of truth in the original, the P, rotoevar~get, than in any of its suc-ceeding variations. This is the substance of the original account: Joadhim is a rich and generous shepherd. He and his Wife Anne are deepl.y grieved because they have no chil-. dren. V~rhile Anne is lamenting tl6e curse of her sterility, an angel appears tO her with the Words, "The Lord hath heard thor prayer, and thou shalt conceive, and shalt bring forth; and thy seed shall be spoken of in all the world." At the same tim~ a similar vision is granted Joach~m ~hile tending his flocks~ In gratitude to God, Anne promises to consecrate.he~ child to the divine service in the Temple. Upon the birth'of the child, who receives the name of 266 dulg, 1945 OUR LADY'S PARENTS l~ary, the happy mother breaks out into a canticle of thanksgiving. Later, when she is three years old, Mary is .brought to the,Temple and joyfully remains there to praise and serve God. Such is the g!st of the early chapters of the Proto-evangel of James. In the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew :the story is given more imagingtive coloring: Joachim's gen-erosity is described at greater length. He distributes his riches to the poor and to those "who' worshipped God"' before taking ashare for himself. At 15 he is already a wealthy shepherd" and at 20 be marries Anne, "the daughter of Acbar, of his own tribe, that is,. of the tribe of 'Juda of the family of David." The couple's childlessness lasts for twenty years, after which the angels appear to Anne and Joachim. The rest of this tale merely develops the story of the Protoevangel, adding more details, greatek emphasis, and .particularly more frequent miraculous inter-ventions. The third and final form of the legend is contained in the Gospel of the Nativitg of Maw, a charming though unhistorical con~pilation of the preceding tradition. This Gospel does not'add substantially to the tale of th~ Proto-evangel, but rather edits it.so that the poetical beauty of the narrative is heightened and made more sublime. ~What Is True of Joachim and Anne? The task of separating the true' from the false in the old Apocryphal legends is most difficult, if not impossible. Yet, though we have no historical norms by which to judge, we can at least, attempt to determine what is definitely interpo!ated and what can perhaps be a vestige of the orig-inal correct tradition. ' In the first place, the special i'niracles of the angelic appa-ritions are quite doubtful. Such momentous divine inter- 267 FRANCIS L. FILAS Review for Religiods ventions in the lives of the parents of Mary would certainly have &awn so muchattention should we say notoriety? .-=to the Blessed Virgin that the obscurity which a-ccom-panied her life with doseph and desus would have given way to constant public notice. Moreoyer,- the Proto-evangel of dames, like all the Apocrypha, has a'very explicit tendency to scatter miracles with a bountiful hand through-out its narrative. Perhaps the most cogent reason for denying credibility to the miracles of the,Protoeoar~gel is the evident modeling of these prodigies on genuine miracles related in Holy Scripture. All the writers of Apocryphal legends are eager to have their accounts placed on a par with the canonical Gospels. They not only copy typical Gospel stories, but even plagiarize directly from th~ inspired text. In thecase ofdoachim his forty days" fast as a prayer. to obtain a child is based on the fasts of Moses, Elias, and Christ.~ Even more striking is the parallel between Anne~s prayer to (3od and theprayer of ,~dnna, mother of Samuel, that the Lord "would give to His servant a man-child.''3 Again, the canticle of thanksgiving of Anne, wife of 3oa-" chim, .is suspiciously similar to.the canticle of her earlier namesake and, .to some extent, to the Mayrffficat of the Blessed Virgin.4 In contrast to the few imi~ortant details given by the Gospels, the legends go to great lengths to set forth trivi-alities. -That is why the familiar details concerning Joa-chim's prosperity must also be re]ected. They constitute precisely the information which the Apocrypha were invented to supply. o The least~doubtful of all the data in the legend is the correctness o.f. the names Joachim and Anne. It seems UExodus 24:18, 34:28; .3 Kings 19:8; Matthew. 4:2. al Kings 1:9,18. 41 Kings 2: Luke 1:46-55. 268 dulq, 1945 'OuR'LADY'S PARENTS likely that,the name "Anne'~ (Anna: Hannah) reminded the early writer of Hannah, mother of Samuel, and thus led him to introduce the direct divine announcement of the forthcoming birth Of M~ry, modeled on that of the annouficement of the birth of Samuel. On the other hand, "Elcana," the name of the father Of Samuel has no resem-blance to "Joachim," the name of the father of Mary. Neither the names nor the circumstances related of Joachim and Elcana are similar. Finally, we must not forget that in all Christian centuries "Joachim" and ".Anne" were accepted as the names of the parents of Mary even while.the other details of their legend were discarded by the majority of Church scholars. While we .can prudently, doubt the authenticity of the legends of 3oachim and Anne, we know with absolute cer-tainty that God gave them every grace needed for their posi-tion as father and fiaother of the Mother Of God: The all-perfect and sinless Mary could hardly be born of any but the most saintly parents. In granting Joachim and Anne the title of saints, the Church has acted wisely and con-si~ te.ntly. The devotion v~hieh it sanctioned does not strand or fall with the correctness or falsity of the iegends. Rather, it represents the honor that is logically paid to the two per-sons ;¢¢hom the Eternal Father chose to bring forth the Mother of God. Just as J~sus sancti~fied Mary and Jose.ph by.His close relations with them, so must Mary .have sanc-tiffed h~r father and mother by her intimacy with ~hem in the years durir~g whi(h God was preparing her for her career as mother of the Savior and as the mother of all redeemed mankind. , The words of St. Peter Damian best express the atti-tude we ought to cultivate with regard to the details of the lives of Mary's parents. "There are s~ome," he writes, "who ¯ w~shing to know what is useless, seek with vain and exces- , 269 ¯ FRANCIS L. FILAS sire curiosity to find who was the father and who ¯ mother of Mary. They seek. to discover in vain¯What the Evar~gelist deemed it superfluous to ~elate. Had this knowledge been necessary, so noble a historiafi would not have neglected to give it to us, inasmuch as it is the constant practice of the sacred writers never to say .what can injure and never to omit what it is useful for us to know.''" If the greatness of the Blessed Virgin stemmed from. ,Joachim and Anne, the Gospels would have described them fully to us. But the case is actuallythe opposite. Mary is the light in whose reflected glory her parents shine. That is sufficient for Our interest. With absolute assurance we know the greatness of Mary from the revealed word of God. This fact again is more than enough to deduce the greatness of her parents. Our piety and devotion do not rest on an old tradition which cannot be authenticated and might one day be proved false in its'entirety. They are based on the truth demonstrated again and again during nine'teen cen-turies of Christian history--nearer to Ma~y means nearer to God. OUR CONTRI.BUTORS AUGUSTINE KLAAS, Professor of Sacramental Theology at St. Mary's College, is the author of several previous articles on the nature of perfection. (~. AUGUSTINE ELLARD and GERALD KELLY are members of our Editorial Board and Professors of Ascetical Theology and Moral Theology respectively. WALTER J. ONG is a stu-dent of theology at St. Mary's. FRANCIS L, FILAS, who has recently been ordained to the priesthood at West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana. has con-tributed several articles to earlier i~sues of the REVIEW. ~Hom. 3 in Natio. B.V,M. .270 ( ues ions and Answers 35 Many sacristans would be grateful ~o you if you would publish these qu6stions and the answers to them in Review for Religious: (I) Must blessed ashes left over Trom Ash Wedn~e~day be put into the sacrarlumT. (2) Please llst all things that should be put into the sacrarlum. 1 ) Yes, it.ls proper to put the blessed ashes into the sacrarium, or else to throw them into the fire. (2) We cannot guarantee to give a list of all the thifigs that should be put into the sacrarium. Here are some of them: used baptismal water, other .blessed water, the.contents of the ablution cup kept near the tabernacle, the water used in washing the altar linens (palls, purificators, and corporals), and the water left in the taoabo dish after Mass. Please outlln~ the respective jurisdiction of the mother general and the local superior in a motherhouse in .which there is alsoa novitiate. What authority should each exercise with regard to (I) Sisters residing habitually in the house, (2). Sisters visiting the motherhouse, (3} occasional, events.~ The mother general goverias the institute as a whole; the local superior governs the local community just as any .other local superior does. Hence the Sisters residing habitually in the house, as well as Sisters visiting the motherhouse, are subject to the local Superior as they would be in any other community. As to occasional events, these have reference either to the local community or to the institute as a whole. In the first case they are under the direction of the local superior, in the second case under that of the mother ~eneral. The novitiate i~ directly under the care and supervision of the mistress of ndvices. Canon 561, § 1 clearly indicates this: "The master (mistress) of novices alone has the right and the obligation of providing for.the formation of the nbvices; he alone is charge.d with the direction of the novitiate, so that no one, under whatever pretext, may interfere in these matters, except 'superiors who are permitted to do so by the constitutions and the canonical visitors; as to the gen-eral discipline of the house, the master (mistress),. together v~ith.the novices themselves, is subject to the (local) superior." 271 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious In two of our cqnvents there has been a bng-standlng custom of taking the body of a deceasi~d Sister to the communlty.chapel on the afternoon before the day of the funeral. I recall either hearing or reading that only the body of a deceased bishop, priest, etc., may be left in the church or chapel befor~ the burial Mass. What is the affltude of the Church on this point? Has canon law any provisions regarding.this maffer? There seems to be no positive, legislation either prohibiting or permitting the body of a deceased person to be brought to .the church or' chapel the day before the funeral and to remain there overnight. o Hence it would seem to be determined by local custom. In places where such a custom has been observed for a long time it may be con-tinued, but it .should not be introduced in other pkices without first consulting the local ordinary. 38 Some years ago we opened a mission house in a diocese distinct from that in which our motherhouse is located. We obtained permission from both bishops to do so. We now wish to close this house, because of serious difficulties. Is it necessary to informboth bishops of our intention to dis-continue our services in that particular parish? The closing, of a religious house is provided for in canon 498 which reads as follows: "No religious housel whether formal or not, belonging to an exbmpt institute, can be suppressed without apostolic authority; a house belonging to a non-exempt congregation approved or commended by the Holy See can be suppressed by the.supbrior gen-eral with the consent of the local ordinary; if it belongs to a diocesan congregation, it can be suppressed by "the mere authority .of the local ordin.ary after consultation with the superior of the congregation, subject however to the prescription of canon 493 if there be questio,n of an only house, and preserving the right of recourse with suspensive ~ effect to the Apostolic See." "' .Hence we must distinguish three cas~s: (1) The house belongs to an exemp.t institute, that is, to an order (which is exempt by law) or to a congregation which enjoys:a special privilege of exemption. In this case the permission of the Holy See must be obtained in order" to close the house. (2) The house .belongs to a congregation approved or commended (decree of praise) by the Holy See. In this case the superior general can close the house with the comenr .of the local ordin.ary, that is, the bishop of the.diocese in which, the house to 272 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS be closed is located. If' the bishop does not igiv.e his consent, the house cannot b~ closed by the su15erior general, o But the perrnissibn of the bishop of the diocese in which the motherhouse is located is not required to close a house in another diocese. (3) The house belongs to a diocesan congregation. The local ordinary alone can close it after consultation with the superior general of the congregation. The superior 'general cannot close the house: odly the bishop can do so. He must consult the superior general, but he does not need the consent o~ the latter. However, if the superior general thinks the house should not be closed, he may appeal to the Holy See against the decree of the bishop. Until the Holy See decides the case the decree remains sus-pended. ~ ~ m39~ On page 306 of the September, 1944, issue of t.he Review, you have an' article on rosaries made of string. We are eager to learn if anyone use these rosaries and gain the indulgences, or is their use restricted to those who are in the armed forc'es? May~ the rosary indulgences be gained by using the rosary plaques which have a kind of notched bead effect forming a decade around the plaque? These have been advertised in some Catholic reviews. ~ From the fact that this extraordinary privilege of blessing rosaries made of string was granted only to chaplains of the British and Allied Forces for the duration of the war, provided they already enjoyed the privilege of blessing and,indulgencing rosaries, it wo.uld seem to follow that the use of such.rosaries is confined to members of the armed forces. It is very doubtful whether others may use them and gain the indulgences ;ittached. In order that it may be blessed and enriched with indulgences,'a ¯ rosary must be made in the form prescribed.by the Church, that is, it must consist of five, ten, or fifteen, decades. The Sacred Congrega-tion of Indulgences explicitly declared on January 20, 1836, that gold or silver rings upon which ten beads had been embossed could not be blessed with the indulgences of the rosary. Such devices as ¯ rings and plaques may be a help for counting Parers and Ayes, but one would not gain the indulgences attached to the recitation of the beads by using them Is a religious institute justified in refusing perpetual vows to a religious who from the first year of her temporai'y profession began' fo manifest' .273 QUESTIbNS AND ANSWERS Review [or Religioug sym.ptoms of a psychosis (dementia praecox h/pc)?' The doctor s!ncerely believes that the cause and perhaps some minor symptoms may have been present heft;re her first'profession (unknown to the relkjious herself). The doctor also recommends that the individual return to the world because she will have a better chance of maklncj' a normal adjustment outside the environs of the cloister. The answer to this case is contained in canon 637: '"Those who have ,made profession of temporary vows may, when the term of the vows has expired, freely leave the institute: likewi'se, the institute, for just and reasonable motives, cab excltid~ the rehglous from renewin~ the temporary vows o_r~from~,making profession of perpetual~vows, nbt however because-bf ili health unless it be clearly proved that the religious, before profession, had fraudulently hidden or dissimulated the.illness." The institute, therefore; may not refuse perpet.ual vows to the religious in question if she did not fraudulently conceal her illness. The religious, however, is free to leave at~th.e expiration of her tem-porary vows, and a dispensation would readily be g'ranted by the proper a.uthority before the temporary vows have expired. It would be advisable, therefore, to have the doctor inform the Sister frankly of her condition and of the prospect of recovery outside the cloister, and to have him suggest to her that she should ask for a dispensation from her temporary vows, or at least leave of her own accord at the expiration of her temporary vows. If the Sister insists on staying, however, the institute may not send h~r away but must allow her to take perpetual vows if she is mdnt~lly capable of doing so. With reference to those who may be incapable of pronouncing final vows, it may be useful to introduce here two answers regarding the treatment and status of a religious who loses his mind during the period of tempbrary vows. The answers were given by the Sacred Congregation of Religious on Februars; 5, 1925, with the approval of His Holiness, Pius XI. "Whether one who is professed of the simple vows in an order or congregation, and who during the three years loses his mind, even incurably according, to the judgment of physicians, can at the end of three years be sent ,back to his relatives or into the world, or whether he must be kept in the religious institute?" The answer given: "In the negative'to the first part; in the af~rmative to the. second." To the further question: "What is the juridical condition of such 274 1945 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS a religious, and what are the obligations of the religious institute in the matter?" the reply was: "The' religious in question belongs to the religious institute in the state in which he was when he lost his mind. and the institute has th~ same obligations towards him that it,had at that time." ~41-- A certain mother superior of a concjreoafio~ in which temporary vows are taken for a year at a time for three: years preparatory to perpetual profess!on availed herself of the permission granted by canon 577, § 2 to "anticipate the renewal of temporary vows by one month. Thus, suppose the Sisters who made their first temporary profession on August IS, 1942, were permiHed to renew their vows for a year on July IS, 1943, and again on June IS, 1944, and final!y were'allowed to take their perpetual vows on June 15, 1945. Would such perpetual vows be valid? No, the perpetual vows .would not be valid because canon 572 requires that a period of three years x~ith temporary vows precede the profession of perpetual vows in order that it "may be valid. The Sis-ters in question had temporary" vows for only two years and ten months. Hence their perpetual vows were invalid. The mother superior misunderstood the permission granted in canon 577. This allows the renewal of temp,orary vows to be antici-pated ¯ by some days but not beyond one month. It does not take away any of the time required for temporary vows. When the Sis-ters took their first vows for a year, that year expired on the same recurring day one year later, August I15, 1943. Hence the vows which were renewed for another year on duly 15, "1943 did not begin to bind until'August 15, 1943, and did not ,expire until August 15, 1944. That this is the only meaning which canon 577 can have becomes evident if we read canon 34, § '3, 5° which tells us how time is to be computed in this case: "When there is question of acts to be renewed at stated times, for instance, a period of three years after temporary profession up to perpetual prof,ession, the'~ime ends on the same recurring day on which it began, but th~ new act may be placed. at any time on ~bat day." Hence perpettial profession may not be made until the same calendar day three years.after the first tempora(y profession ~was made. As w~ have seen above, this complete period of three .years is require.d bE canon 572 for the validit~l of the perpetual. professio.n. 275 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS --42-- Wh~t ;s the ob~J;ga~fion of the local superior wlth regard to conferences to be given to the community from time to time? How often should they be given? Must they be 9;yen by a priest? What is to be done if no priest ;s available? Canon 509 prescribes that "the local superiors shall take care . . . to have given at least twice a month . especially in lay institutes, a pious exhortation to all the members of the house." This exhortation is something.different from the catechetical instruction pre.scribed by the same canon for lay Brothers ahd l~ay Sisters (that separate class of religious devoted-to domestic duties), The purpose of the exhorta-tion is not principally to instruct but to renew the religious spirit and to urge the members of the commu.nity to even greater efforts in the observance of religious discipline and in the acquirement of religious virtues. These exhortations should be given to the community twice a month. Several eminent authors are of the opinion that they need not be given during the summer vacation. The law says that Superiors shall take care. This is a milder form of precept than the ordinary must se'e to it. It requires serious diligence on the part of the superior to have these exhortations given tO the community twice a month. If after diligent care has been exerted' the exhortation, cannot be had, the law is not violated.~ The exhortation may be given by the superior himself or by some other religious of the community tirovided he is capable. In !ay con-gregations an effort should be made to have a priest give these exhor-tations, at least from time t6 time. In case a, priest Or a capable reli-gious cannot be had to give these exhortations, it is recommended that a conference be read in place of the exhortation. Within kecent ¯ years excellent conferences written especially for religious have been published by Fatherg Skelly, Muntsch, Gabriels, and others. They will serve as a substitute for the exhortation as far as subject matter is concerned. This substitute, however, cannot be strictly imposed, since a pious reading is not the juridical substitute for an exhortation. However, in practice, when nothing better can be had, such pious reading of a conference dealing with a subject relating directly to the religious life will.he.lp to attain the puypose of the law, namely, to stir up the religious spirit' and to renew religious observance. 276 ommunicatdons Aga~ns~ "Formalism" " Reverend Fathers: In your last issue a Priest Religious objected to a pointa Sister brought upin the question, "Is there not too much formalism in our life?" The Sister had a point that should make all superiors examine their own governing of their communities. Is adherence to any com-munity rule more important than charity to the laity? 'But that is only by the way. I'd like to answer in my own humble way some of the arguments he proposes in' answer to her question. He begins by saying that we religious are professional people and can't be expected to be on call twenty-four hours a day. Well, if we are professional people, what is our profession? Unless" the religious is in a cdntemplative order, i~n'.t it the saving of souls by persor/al dealings with them? Helping souls to heaven by teaching, preaching, administering the sacra'merits, leading souls closer to Christ by our own'example, especially charity--not only in spiritdal mat-ters but in mundane matters as ~well? We should thank God that the people trust us enough to come to us with their e~rery day troubles, andif these .things make ours a twenty-four-hou,r-a-day job, then that's what it should be. It will be a sorry day for us if they ever do lose this trust in us, and we are not helpingmatters by refusing to even see them. It would be pretty difficult to imagine Christ or the Bles-sed Virgin setting up office hours for those who wanted to talk to them. The story of Christ and the little children gives us some idea of what He would d6. The Priest Religious then goes on to say tha't religious orders would be wrecked over night if their members were at the mercy of every whim and caprice of undisciplined souls that want us to be serv-ants of the pe~ople whenever their impulse suggests. From what I understand of religious life, we're supposed to be servants of the people even when their impulse doesn't suggest it. And as to-the first part, if any order can be wrecked because people want advice, comfort, or even a "hand-out," from the individual members of.the order, it would probably be" for the" good of the Church if it were wrecked. 277 COMMUNICATIONS Reoiew for Rel!yiot~s I know of no such order; but if any exists, its foundations are cer-tainly very shallow--its members are not. at all Christ-like, and they don't give the correct picture of the "Love thy neighbor" policy that Christ preached and that they should practice. The Priest Religious' then goes on to say, "any priest or religious who i~ at the continual call of unreasonable people . endangers his health." That sou,nds as if the average priest or religious has a line of unreasonable people waiting to see him or her all day long. .I've worked' in a large city parish and no one of the five priests there, no matter how popular, ever had more than four different parties waiting for him. It might take him a couple of ho.urs to see them all, but isn't that our job? Not only God, but even the laity expect us to do more than say Mass, hear confessions, run sick calls, teach in the school, and conduct a couple of sodalities. Then too, the average caller at a rectory or convert( is not unreasonable. Certainly., there are.so.me. and we can't expect to be immune. But bnly one out of ten could be called truly unreasonable. The rest of the time isn't the priest or Sister the unreasonable one when he or she objects that the parlor call is taking them from something else? His letter then goes oh to say, "One means of taking care of this situation is to have an intelligent doorkeeper who can "judge when there is a real need." Heaven help us! Why not tell the house-kegper to call us only for sick calls. People usually come to see a priest, not a housekeeper. I've only been ordained nine years, but even I.can see t~e'spirit of anti-clericalism that is growing even among our own people. Much of this is our own fault." Too often we see or hear of a priest or religious who i~ so high-handed that he makes himself inaccessible to the people. That isn't exactly what Christ had in mind when He called us .to be "fishers of men." No, I'm afraid I can't agree with this Pries~ Religious. If we have people storming the doors of our rectories because they want to see the priest, good for us!! True, our health may be endangered by this overwork, but what greater way to become ill tha~by serving the people, reasonable or unreasonable, as Christ would waht us to? In conclusion, to the Sister wl~o asked, "Is there not too much formalism in our life?" I'd like to say, "There certainlyis, Sister, and not nearly enough charity." A Diocesan Priest 278 Jul[t, "19 4 ~ COMMUNICATIONS Delayed Vocations Reverend Fathers: I remember a few years ago a Catholic weekly began to tun a page ~ for the men in~ the.service. Soon the women in the service com-plained that nothing was done for them. Perhaps they will make the same complaint When they realize that' something big is beihg done for the men to keep alive the grace of a vocation to the religious and (or) priestly life, or to enkindle such a vocation. No doubt there are women in the service whom Christ will favor with the call to serve Him as Sisters; women Whom He will want tO continue their marvellous work of caring for the ~eedy and the sick and of educating children, but not without consecrating their lives to ¯ Him in religion as His Spous,.es. These women will bare bad training in rather rigid discipline: they will have learned that it is possible to live contentedly in a uniform that is not made of silks and satins; they will know what it mean~ to make sacrifices for others. It would certainly' be of great heip for them to follow the inspi-rations ot: grace if they would receive positive encouragement from the Sisterhoods, if they .knew they are really wanted. Sisterhoods that are interested in such vocations should let the women know that they are willing to accept them. My attention was called to the Little Flower Mission Circle, Inc. (321.E. 156tb St., New York 55, N. Y.) for the promotion of vocations to all religious communities. It publishe.s a quarterl3~ chlled Come, Folloto Me. Perhaps this could serve the purpose. Or, a bulletin similar to lntroibo could be printed. Centers might be designated where such candidates could meet, either in a schoolc or in the parish hall, or perhaps even in the convent parlor. Tber~ they could come in direct contact with the Sisters. It seems that' such a venture would be most pleasing to Christ and quite profitable to religious communities and to the Church. Religious Priest [EDITORS' NOTE: Upon "receipt of the preceding communication we wrote to the Editor of lmroibo and asked him to tell us something about this publication. We received the following answer--with permission to publish it if we wished.] Reverend Fathers: lntroibo is a mimeographed bulletin that has had three issues since 279 COMMUNICATIONS . Review [or Religlous January and will have five mbre each~year? It is sent to any service-man who writes to Introibo, 19 Eye St., N.W., Washington 1, D.C. It is meant for servicemen who plan to be diocesan priests, religious priests, or Brothers. It makes no difference.what diocese the men will belong t%,or what religious institute they intend to join. The bu
Background Surgery is the main modality of cure for solid cancers and was prioritised to continue during COVID-19 outbreaks. This study aimed to identify immediate areas for system strengthening by comparing the delivery of elective cancer surgery during the COVID-19 pandemic in periods of lockdown versus light restriction. Methods This international, prospective, cohort study enrolled 20 006 adult (≥18 years) patients from 466 hospitals in 61 countries with 15 cancer types, who had a decision for curative surgery during the COVID-19 pandemic and were followed up until the point of surgery or cessation of follow-up (Aug 31, 2020). Average national Oxford COVID-19 Stringency Index scores were calculated to define the government response to COVID-19 for each patient for the period they awaited surgery, and classified into light restrictions (index 60). The primary outcome was the non-operation rate (defined as the proportion of patients who did not undergo planned surgery). Cox proportional-hazards regression models were used to explore the associations between lockdowns and non-operation. Intervals from diagnosis to surgery were compared across COVID-19 government response index groups. This study was registered at ClinicalTrials.gov, NCT04384926. Findings Of eligible patients awaiting surgery, 2003 (10·0%) of 20 006 did not receive surgery after a median follow-up of 23 weeks (IQR 16–30), all of whom had a COVID-19-related reason given for non-operation. Light restrictions were associated with a 0·6% non-operation rate (26 of 4521), moderate lockdowns with a 5·5% rate (201 of 3646; adjusted hazard ratio [HR] 0·81, 95% CI 0·77–0·84; p<0·0001), and full lockdowns with a 15·0% rate (1775 of 11 827; HR 0·51, 0·50–0·53; p<0·0001). In sensitivity analyses, including adjustment for SARS-CoV-2 case notification rates, moderate lockdowns (HR 0·84, 95% CI 0·80–0·88; p<0·001), and full lockdowns (0·57, 0·54–0·60; p<0·001), remained independently associated with non-operation. Surgery beyond 12 weeks from diagnosis in patients without neoadjuvant therapy increased during lockdowns (374 [9·1%] of 4521 in light restrictions, 317 [10·4%] of 3646 in moderate lockdowns, 2001 [23·8%] of 11827 in full lockdowns), although there were no differences in resectability rates observed with longer delays. Interpretation Cancer surgery systems worldwide were fragile to lockdowns, with one in seven patients who were in regions with full lockdowns not undergoing planned surgery and experiencing longer preoperative delays. Although short-term oncological outcomes were not compromised in those selected for surgery, delays and non-operations might lead to long-term reductions in survival. During current and future periods of societal restriction, the resilience of elective surgery systems requires strengthening, which might include protected elective surgical pathways and long- term investment in surge capacity for acute care during public health emergencies to protect elective staff and services. Funding National Institute for Health Research Global Health Research Unit, Association of Coloproctology of Great Britain and Ireland, Bowel and Cancer Research, Bowel Disease Research Foundation, Association of Upper Gastrointestinal Surgeons, British Association of Surgical Oncology, British Gynaecological Cancer Society, European Society of Coloproctology, Medtronic, Sarcoma UK, The Urology Foundation, Vascular Society for Great Britain and Ireland, and Yorkshire Cancer Research.