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Full TextThe Barn Owl The Barn Owl (Tyto alba) is a medium-sized, tawny coloured owl that, with the exception of Antarctica, has worldwide distribution. Like most owls the Barn Owl is considered to be nocturnal. Like all owls, it is predatory bird. In the Barn Owl's case, members of the species are said to enjoy (or specialize, in the biological parlance) in small ground mammals—rodents, for example. In Eastern North America, the majority of their diet would include Meadow Voles (Microtus pennsylvanicus) and Deer Mice (Peromyscus maniculatus). Barn Owls strike a distinct-look with their lack of ear tufts (a misnomer of sorts as the tufts—the "horns" of a Great Horned Owl, Bubo virginianus—are not ears and not associated with hearing at all) and their distinct heart-shaped facial disc (which is associated with hearing, but that's another story for another time). As their common name suggests they can be found living in barns, on a nest made from the regurgitated un-digestible remains of those Meadow Voles and Deer Mice they hunt. Of course Barn Owls are not just limited to barns, but nest in silos, abandoned buildings and tree cavities too. Arguably, this should make their name "Barn, Silo, Abandoned Building & Tree Cavity Owl" but that doesn't really roll off the tongue in the same way. These attributes and distinguishing features are all things to keep in mind if you find yourself out birdwatching near a barn in Southern Ontario. During your explorations, while there are certain to be Rock Pigeons (Columba livia) fluttering about, if you happen to come across a Barn Owl in this setting, you should take notice. Seeing a Barn Owl in Southern Ontario (especially a living Barn Owl) is something to make special note of—it's not a regular occurrence. Part of the significance of seeing a Barn Owl lies in its relative in-abundance. While individuals identified as Tyto alba enjoy a cosmopolitan reputation, Southern Ontario has been considered the northern range of the species ("Ontario Barn Own Recovery Project," 2005) and it has been suggested that Barn Owls have always found, say, other places more to their liking. Because of this, the Barn Owl is a special bird in Canada: it is officially endangered, recognized by the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada (COSEWIC) ("Ontario Barn Own Recovery Project," 2005). It seems as though Barn Owls living in Ontario have had bad luck of late— of the "handful" ("Ontario Barn Own Recovery Project," 2005 ¶ 4) that have been seen since 1999, two were roadkills ("Ontario Barn Own Recovery Project," 2005) and no breeding pairs have been "confirmed." The Barn Owl of February 27th 2006 If you are a serious birder in Ontario, with a computer and internet access, it is likely that you are aware of the electronic mailing list called Ontbirds. Ontbirds is presented by the self-proclaimed provincial birding association, the Ontario Field Ornithologists. The electronic mailing list (or listserv) is meant to be a clearing-house of bird sightings and directions for interested birders: you read about a bird you would like to see, get the directions and off you go on a (perhaps literal) wild goose chase. On average, four to seven sightings are posted daily. As might be expected, more posting occurs on the weekend, and more postings occur seasonally during spring and fall migration. Typical emails follow a standard form: the subject line contains the bird or birds seen and their location while the body of the email contains more specific information about the birds and precise directions to the location they might be found. While thorough, the information shared is, generally speaking, pretty uncontentious stuff. So, it was with interest that a seemingly normal post on February 28th, 2006 took on new dimensions: whispers of deception, accusation of fraud and, more interestingly for my work, questions of what is normal, known and natural all emerged. On February 28th, 2006, a simple posting appeared in mailboxes of subscribers outlining how a photograph had been taken of a Barn Owl and posted on a webbased photography site. A URL was given linking to the photograph. It was noted that the photographer had not reported seeing the bird on the Ontbirds listserv, but that there was a link to the location where the bird was seen. That same day, the moderator of the listserv posted reminding the subscribers that the Barn Owl was considered "endangered" on breeding territory and that there were rules about posting about endangered birds on the listserv; all of the requirements that needed to be met prior to posting were created in order to reduce the likelihood that an observed bird would abandon a nest or breeding attempt. The following day, March 1st, a conversation had begun via the listserv. Another respondent was interested in knowing more details about the sighting and if the bird had been seen again. The next email later that day was from the photographer himself. In the email, he explained that though he did not remember exactly where he saw the bird, he used Google maps to locate the general location and road names. According to his directions, the Barn Owl was seen in Eastern Ontario, in the Ottawa region. As well, he shared the story of finding the owl, taking the photograph and watching the bird fly away from him. The author also stated that his initial reason for going out birding that day was to find Snowy Owls to photograph and that he had no luck in finding those birds that day. On March 2nd, another email arrived from another Ontbirds subscriber. In it, the author began to question the authenticity of the photograph. This email suggested that the owl's feet have been "doctored," as though something was removed after the photograph had been taken. The author reminded those reading that the Barn Owl is rare for Ontario and especially so where the photograph was taken—the implication being that the bird is so rare that it most likely didn't exist. A third email followed on March 2nd in which the author suggests that there is nothing in the photograph that appears unusual or doctored. The author offered another suggestion about the authenticity of the owl. He reminded us that there was a Barn Owl sighting in a different part of Ontario earlier in the winter and attributes the owl's presence not to digital photographic magic, but to efforts undertaken on the part of humans to help the species recover. Yet, this claim to reality does not seem to be working. Later in the afternoon on March 2nd, a fourth email arrived that supports the initial hypothesis that the photograph has been doctored. The author shared that the bird looks like one he had seen at Parc Omega, a wildlife park in Québec, and provides a URL to a photograph of the Parc Omega Barn Owl. The pull of the network to make the photograph unauthentic, and in turn, the owl, continues to mount. In a fifth email, the author shared the contention that the fencepost the Barn Owl is pictured perching on was specially made for captive birds to land on. The author also suggested that given the lighting of the photograph and kind of weather that was observed on the day that the photograph was supposed to have been taken, the photograph could not be discounted as being genuine. This is where the conversation ends on Ontbirds. At 5:30 pm on March 2nd, the listserv co-ordinator posted a message that states that the current conversation on the photographed Barn Owl is inappropriate. The coordinator reminded readers that Ontbirds is not a discussion list and is for "reporting birds period." The closing line in the email reminds readers that not following the guidelines could result in the restriction or loss of being able to post to the listerv. This does not mean, however, that the conversation ended. In following the network thread to a website that catalogues rare birds from the Ottawa area, the sighting details for the Barn Owl seen on February 27th is prefaced with the words "LIKELY HOAX." The page author outlines a litany of evidence that supports his claim that the image has been manipulated. The webpage author concludes his outline with the statement "let the viewer beware." Enacting birds: reflection on the Barn Owl of February 27th I have spent some time thinking about the birders and the Barn Owl. I have read and reflected on the emails and the allegations. From this, themes have emerged concerning the construction of what is natural as well as insights into the creation of what Donna Haraway (2003) calls "naturecultures." Most importantly, this event, be it framed as authentic bird sighting or elaborate hoax, helps enact and make visible a topology of inter-species ethical relations between those who watch birds and the birds they watch. Networks Ontbirds operates within an established network of relations. People post their sightings to share with other interested birders. The process through which experiences are transcribed from embodied encounters to textual references is seemingly an invisible one. In this case, there were visible deviations from the established network. Within the birding community that posts to Ontbirds, the claim to have "found" a bird is an important one. In posts where the author is reporting a first-sighting and they did not find the bird themselves, the name of the bird finder (skilled, lucky or otherwise, as it is never suggested the kind of effort it took to come across the bird) is included. In this example, the finder did not make a submission to Ontbirds to report a rare bird. Rather, it seems like in this case, the original post came via an on-line gallery created by the finder that had the photograph and birding information on it. While never overtly stated, I believe that the authenticity of the Barn Owl was partially called into question due to the fact that the finder of the bird did not post his sighting to the listserv. Additionally, I find interesting to note that in the finder's one email to the Ontbirds listserv, he did his best to fit into the established network. However, problematic for him, he was not familiar with the area where he took the photograph. Part of the established Ontbirds network is knowing where you observed a bird; the more detailed the description of location and directions, the better. In networks, effort is required to maintain the relationships of the actors. The listserv tends to operate with little of what I would call boundary policing on the part of the co-ordinator. What is particularly interesting about the Barn Owl postings was the need of the Ontbirds co-ordinator to make comments concerning the type and quality of postings over the three day period, all referencing the mail about the Barn Owl. In well-established networks, subtle deviations from the established routine lead to powerful reactions: networks tend to become visible when they are threatened. The questioning of the authenticity seems to be such a reaction. What this suggests for a birding network is the power that lies in the focus on names, dates and details. This hybridity that exists between birders and the electronic mailing list certainly has implications in shaping what is considered normal, known and natural for those who subscribe to the list. Birds are enacted through Ontbirds as realities "out there" to be discovered, recorded and reported. While this is not necessarily that surprising, it does, in turn have an impact on other enactments of birds, especially visible in the multiple objects created. Multiple objects In this case there was an exceeding focus by birders on the rarity of the bird, to the point where I believe that the Barn Owl became a multiple object. Emerging from the field of Science and Technology studies, the idea of multiple objects opens a different way to think about the taken-for-granted: objects are often thought of as rigid and immobile in their existence - a Barn Owl will always be a Barn Owl (for a detailed discussion of multiple objects, see Law, 2004; Mol, 2002). In response to this, a multiple version of the object counters this notion of singularity. In focusing on the fractal nature of "reality" and in attending to difference, I believe that this perspective requires attention be paid to the enactment of objects. Enactment, in this sense, is the claim that "relations, and so realities and representations of realities.are being endlessly or chronically brought into being in a continuing process of production and reproduction, and have no status, standing or reality outside those processes" (Law, 2004, p. 159). Enactment is different than constructivism as it does not "imply convergence to singularity," in opposition to the fixing of objects' identities, "but takes difference and multiplicity to be chronic conditions" (Law, 2004, p. 158). Difference suggests that multiple versions of the same object can exist simultaneouslythis occurs because while objects are enacted in practice, these practices can be different. If the practices are different, then so too must be the objects (Law, 2004). Yet these multiple versions-or multiple objectsare, more often than not, able to cohere together. So, if these coherences shape our reality, then reality: is not in principal fixed or singular, and truth is no longer the only ground for accepting or rejecting a representation. The implication is that there are various possible reasons, including the political, for enacting one kind of reality rather than another, and that these grounds can in some measure be debated. (Law, 2004, p. 162) As such, a focus on the enactment of objects is filled with attention to the many ways that actors, human and otherwise, engage to create a reality: a reality described through investigation, a reality that is not the only one "out there" and a reality that focuses on heterogeneity and difference. In the move to collapse multiple realities into one, a distinctly political move is made, where one reality, one particular enactment of an object gains primacy over the others. In this particular becoming of the Barn Owl, the enactment of rarity overshadowed the other ways the bird was known (see Figure 1). Rather than having to pass judgement on if I think the Barn Owl was properly enacted, I think it is more valuable to examine the ways the bird was enacted. Let me outline the different ways (that I can see): - as a rare bird species (through the Ontbirds coordinator, external web pages and some birders' previous knowledge) - as a biological reality (through the email that suggested the Owl was a result of species rebound and human conservation efforts) - as digital magic (many of the claims to digital alteration of the photograph enacted this Barn Owl) - as an Eastern Ontario Barn Owl (through the initial posting) - as an Québec Barn Owl (through the claims it came from Parc Omega) There have also been subtle and tacit ways that the authenticity has been enacted, framed through the network of discovery, recording and reporting previously described. Through these discourses, the Barn Owl has been enacted as a: - valuable, wild bird - feral bird of ambivalent worth - wildlife park captive and therefore does not count In this multiplicity, the Barn Owl lost value in the eyes of some birders as its authenticity was called into question. What is implicit in this questioning is the understanding that there is some kind of a continuum that reported birds are judged against. It seems that the gold standard of authenticity is one that is wild, rare and (relatively) easy to find. It goes without saying that this perspective is not entirely unproblematic. This, in part, helps explain why there are not any postings to Ontbirds describing a flock of Pigeons seen in a ubiquitous habitat, such as the urbanized core of Anytown, Ontario. A Pigeon simply does not match up to the gold standard of valuable birds. In deciding what gets to "count" in knowledge-making endeavours, and what counts as the gold standard, other birds disappear from what is noticed. In that disappearance, the bird moves to the hinterland. I turn to that next. The hinterland and otherness Hinterland's are an attempt to engage with the act of disappearing. Law puts forward three kinds of Hinterland's: the first, he suggest are "in-here objects" (Law, 2004, p. 55); the second are "visible or relevant out-there contexts" (Law, 2004, p. 55); and the third are "out-there processes, contexts, and all the rest, that are both necessary and necessarily disappear from visibility or relevance" (Law, 2004, p. 55). I would deploy an artistic metaphor of positive space and negative space here: that which is present is the positive space of an image and that which is absent is negative space of an image. It is often difficult to decide if it is the negative or positive space that bounds the image: each side depends on the other such that if one is not there, the known image would disappear. Perhaps, if I expand the metaphor, the hidden absent is that which is not within the frame of the image. Importantly, all that lies outside the frame, while unnecessary in the composition of the image, is only unnecessary because it has been selectively ignored in the composition of the image. Emerging from this perspective on the hinterland is the acknowledgement that a relationship with the unknown, or the other, is necessary; rather than simply ignoring the disappearance, it is an attempt to acknowledge that disappearance is integral to any kind of knowing. Thus, if birding, as an act, continues the "process [of] enacting necessary boundaries between presence, manifest absence and Otherness" (Law, 2004, p. 144), then the various activities taken up in the name of coming to know these organisms are each a distinctly political move, moves that shape and reaffirm (mostly conventional) ways of knowing the nonhuman. For example, the second post in this chain made explicit that the individual Barn Owl was, in fact, part of larger species, Tyto alba and that species was considered to be an endangered one. The term endangered species does just that: focus on species, at the expense of the individual. In this organism's identification as a member of a species, it loses any ability to be something else; what could be has been othered. This act of othering is at times common in birdwatching. It occurs more than once in the Barn Owl discussion: through the questioning about the validity of the sighting, the focus subtly shifts from the sighting to determining the authenticity of the photograph. Again, in this move the individual owl disappears. The Barn Owl was not the only member of the order Aves to be othered in this particular natureculture assemblage. It is also interesting to note that the Snowy Owls, the birds that were the original objective of the outing that produced the Barn Owl, have disappeared. Likely, there were other birds seen during that trip, but for whatever reason (perhaps not rare, not big, not charismatic), they were ignored. For my purposes, I consider this othering problematic, in part, because it does little to acknowledge the lived experiences of nonhuman individuals. The challenge here is that the act of othering, in and of itself, is not inherently wrong. Rather than focusing on what might be out there, I believe that it is important to be able to recognize enactments that are politically aligned with the kind of relationships that ought to exist. So, one needs to develop the skill of attending to what is observably cast to the hinterland and what is brought to the forefront. In a sense, this is what I've attempted to do with my analysis of the Barn Owl narrative and the creation of the enacted set of relations in Figure 1. In creating this particular map of relations, I attempt to move beyond the established frame and re-focus on those multiple enactments that have been cast aside. In so doing, political actions and entrenched positions are more easily visible, while others can re-emerge from obscurity. It is true that there might be other unknowable enactments that exist in the hinterland-but let me suggest that acknowledging that, at best, partial perspectives (Haraway, 1991) are our best version of reality (as a nod to multiplicity does) offers more space for other realities to emerge. Thinking more generally about our dominant cultural relationship with the nonhuman, the promise of attentiveness to the various enactments of animals offer the opportunity to intentionally enact a reality that is more in line with one's own ethics. In asking what practices of birding are good or which practices ought we to be enacting, attention can be turned to current enactments to ask: "Ought they be enacted in this way?" This simple question, paired with the knowledge that there are other enactments hidden, could be enough to continue to question some of our Western culture's taken-forgranted assumptions about what it is to be human and otherwise. References Haraway, D. (1991). Situated knowledges: The science question in feminism and the privilege of partial perspective. In Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: the reinvention of nature (pp. 183-202). Routledge: New York. Haraway, D. (2003). The companion species manifesto: dogs, people, and significant otherness. Chicago: Prickly Paradigm Press. Law, J. (2004). After method: mess in social science research. London: Routledge. Mol, A. (2002). The body multiple: ontology in medical practice. Durham: Duke University Press. Ontario Barn Own Recovery Project. (2005, February 7). Retrieved March 4, 2006, from http://www.bsc-eoc.org/regional/barnowl.html

Issue 61.1 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; ,2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER'1 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faitlsful to God's universal call to tsoliness by making available to them the spiritual legades tbat flow from the cbarisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be consi~tered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. .for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisot7 Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Jame~ and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymohd Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hen,sell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeriti~ CSJ JANUARY FEBRUARY 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 1 contents 6 religious culture Teresa: Story Theologian and Transforzner of Culture Mary Frohlich HM provides a different lens for reading The Book of Her Foundations by Teresa of Avila in order to find some of Teresa's most profound teaching about the potential fruits of the contemplative life. 23 Instilling Christian/Religious Culture: Instinct and Connaturality Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR envisages a rationally planned and directed program for the transmission of the "subculture" of religious life and the "culture" of the Christian life to new entrants. 39 Conversion: A Summons from the Word of God 51 Kathleen McMpin RSM explores how the word of God comes to us through daily life experiences, calling us to an ongoing conversion that leads to mercy as justice. Seminary Formation and Lonergan's Conversion Theory Steve Wlusek uses Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions to illuminate personal development in seminary formation. Review for Religious 57 moral insight The Workers in the Vineyard: Insights for the Moral Life Patricia Ann Lamoureux and Paul Zilonka CP reflect on one Gospel parable as an example of how to develop moral theology in accordance with biblical vision. 70 Creative Response to Racism Mary Alice Chineworth OSP shares her experiences of racism within the religious-life context. adaptive prayer 75 Lectio Divina: A Means to Wholeness Mary Ren~e Nienaber SND reviews the six parts that make up the practice of lectio divina, which fosters a spiritual-life wholeness. 84 St. Albert's Method: 19th-Annotation Retreats at Parishes and Schools Hank Hilton SJ shares an adaptation of the retreat method according to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius for larger group settings in a parish or school situation. departments 4 Prisms 97 Canonical Counsel: Transfer 104 Book Reviews January-February 2002 prisms ¯ I .l.s we enter into the second year of this new millennium, the world presents us with a different face. The September 11, 2001, events that took place in the United States brought about a coop-erative stance of many of the world's nations against a terrorism grown to huge and horrendous proportions. Many agree in perceiving that terrorism breeds in behav-iors that denigrate others, in poverty that dehumanizes, and in politics that canonizes a status quo. Throughout history, there have been wars of religion, but today peo-ple question whether any war can be valued as religious or justified as just. No one could have suspected that the call which Pope John Paul II made only a year ago in his apostolic letter "At the Beginning of the New Millennium" would ring out with even greater challenge. The pope signaled our approach to this new age in the gospel words of Jesus "duc in altum," "put out into the deep" (Lk 5:4). He saw the new millennium as a vast ocean onto which the world's peoples were setting sail. We needed to hear God's call to set forth--fearlessly--because we often prefer to live with what is known, the past and the pre-sent. It is truly difficult, and sometimes fearful, to move into a future unknown and uncontrollable. Beyond our imagining, this is where we find ourselves as we begin the new year. John Paul II talked about a new face of Christ with which we refamiliarized ourselves as we entered into this Review for Religqous new millennium--a face that we had been contemplating in three preparatory years. When the pope had us focus on the face of Jesus in sorrow, we little realized that we would see that face in image after image during the final months of this past year. Where the pope turned our attention also to the face of Jesus who is risen, we found many weary faces of hope and help that became a part of our international drama. Beyond all our imaginings, we have been given a Pauline conversion moment in seeing Christ. This face arouses no fear, but rather leads us only to new ways of living, loving, and working. The pope challenged all Christians to be, and so to act as, "agents of communion." Being agents of communion is a necessary identity of being Christian in this age calling for a new evange-lizatiofi. The continuing public cooperation of many leaders of the various world religious traditions, especially Christian, Jewish, and Muslim, concretizes for us what an agent of communion attempts. Never have Jesus' directions about praying for our ene-mies and for those who do us wrong been writ so large and clear on the screen of our consciousness. Religious services, both in the public forum and in the neighborhood .church, have incarnated Jesus' injunction and continue to feed personal ways of praying. Humanitarian efforts to help the Afghan people in the midst of a wartime effort against their nation's ruling power are also an action of agents of communion. If images played out so vividly on the world stage call forth such prayer and action, we cannot fail to examine ourselves anew in our own little world of prayer and relationships. How does our prayer need to be enlarged beyond our narrow focusing on self, those dear to us, and our local concerns for well-being? What are the deeds we do that bring about a greater sense of community, of people working together, of a reaching out to the forgotten and neglected? Yes, the face of our world has changed, we say. But does this new face not give us the opportunity to see the face of Christ more clearly and to act, like Christ, as agents of communion? The Greek word kairos signified not ordinary measurement of time (chronos) but rather the special time of encounter with God. This kairos moment challenges us to set out fearlessly into the deep, "duc in altunl. " David L. Fleming SJ January-February 2002 MARY FROHLICH Teresa: Story Theologian and Transformer of Culture Even among fans of Teresa of Avila, comparatively few have read The Book of Her Foundations. Why has Foundations been comparatively neglected in relation to Teresa's other works? Probably because it has a rather different character. Although Teresa can never be accused of being a "systematic thinker," her other three books (the Book of Her Life, the Way of Perfection, and the Interior Castle) offer more or less organic overviews of contemplative life and development. If one looks for the same in the Foundations, one is likely at first to be disappointed. Here, however, I will pro-pose that, by reading with a different lens, we may find in this book some of Teresa's most profound teaching about the potential fruits of the contempla-tive life. ¯ Through the lens I experiment with here, Teresa can be seen as what Terrence Tilley calls a "story the-ologian." In 1972, when Teresa was named one of the first two female doctors of the church, the question arose how someone who was clearly not a systematic theologian, but rather an image-smith and a story- Mary Frohlich HM is associate professor of spirituality at Chicago Theological Union; 5401 South Cornell Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60615. Review for Religi'ous teller, could attain this title. Since that time, awareness has grown that, in fact, stories and images are at the grass roots of all the theology that has ever been created and communicated. The example par excellence of "story theology" is the Bible. In his book Story Theology, Tilley proposes that theology in this genre has three major tasks: (1) to tell new and flesh stories which show a new era what the key Christian words mean, (2) to transform creatively the narratives handed down by tradi-tion, and (3) to proclaim and manifest the Good News in a way that speaks to and transforms the heart of a culture) In this article I explore Teresa's Foundations as an example of story the-ology that has a remarkable capacity to transform the heart of her culture and, as a classic, all cultures. The Text and Its Context The thirty-one chapters of the Foundations recount, in vary-ing degrees of detail, the circumstances and efforts pertaining to the founding of seventeen Discalced Carmelite monasteries. The text consists mainly of stories--some humorous, some poignant, some edifying, some pretty incredible--interspersed with shorter or longer asides of sage advice for her nuns and especially for her prioresses. Other features include several hagiographical accounts of the remarkable lives and deeds of individual nuns, friars, and benefactors and, of course, a good deal of autobiographical information about Teresa's attractions, friendships, physical sufferings, and moods. In short, the Foundations is decidedly not an organic presentation of spiritual principles, but rather more of a "down and dirty" chronicle of what happens when one tries to do God's work in this raucous and resistant "real world" in which we live. And that, I think, is why at this time in my life I am so strongly drawn to the Foundations. It is certainly not because I am any less interested in the interior life, but because I am now even more interested in what difference it makes. By that I do not mean taking a utilitarian approach to prayer, as if it has no value unless one can immediately see its fruits. I mean something more like what Teresa says at the end of the Interior Castle (VII.4.6): "This is the reason for prayer, my daughters, the pur-pose of this spiritual marriage: the birth always of good works, January-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian The Foundations is the "first fruit" (literarily speaking) of Teresa's spiritual marriage. good works." In the Foundations we see what that statement meant, concretely, in Teresa's own life. Like the apostles in Acts, Teresa in the Foundations is a woman of mission, sent forth into the hurly-burly of the real world to Fooperate with the Holy Spirit in the construction of multiple "dwelling places of God," places that are not only interior but also physical and social and political, places in which deep interiority can find a home and can continue to be propagated far and wide. In view of this, it is helpful to note where the writing of the Foundations occurred in Teresa's life. Teresa was forty-seven years old when, in 1562, she made her first Discalced founda-tion at St. Joseph's in Avila. Over the next four years, she wrote her Life and the Way of Perfection and ¯ then began the whirlwind of founding activity that would continue until the end of her life. Nine new Discalced monasteries had already been established by the time Teresa received the grace of spiritual marriage on 18 November 1572 at age fifty-seven. It was about nine months after this breakthrough spiritual event that she began to write The Book of Her Foundations. Work on this text con-tinued intermittently until November 1576, by which time she had completed twenty-seven chapters and made four more foundations. Between June 1577 and November, right in the midst of one of the most intense periods of squabbling and harassment related to her reforming activity, she wrote the entire text of the Interior Castle. Finally, between 1580 and 1582, she made four more foundations and added their stories to the text of the Foundations. Chapter 31 and the epilogue were completed only a few months before her death on 4 October 1582 at age sixty-seven. Two things are interesting to note here. One is that this book, the Foundations, is the "first fruit" (literarily speaking) of Teresa's spiritual marriage. The other is that the first and last parts of the Foundations form a kind of sandwich around the Interior Castle. These two books are closely related to each other. Together--not separately--they are the fully developed fruit of -o°-j Teresa's human and spiritual maturity. And so, before delving Review for Religqous more deeply into the Foundations, let us review what Teresa says about the spiritual marriage in the Interior Castle. Spiritual Marriage: At One with God, Sell and World In the Seventh Dwelling Places of the Interior Castle, Teresa teaches that the soul that receives the culminating grace of the spiritual marriage is brought fully into its own center, where God alone dwells. Like a river that has flowed into the ocean, the soul now is completely and unchangeably at one with God. This differs from earlier stages of union and rapture in that here the faculties are not lost. That is, one retains the ability to understand what is happening and to carry on external activities even while in this form of union. This latter is especially impor-tant: Teresa repeatedly emphasizes that the purpose of the spir-itual marriage is not rest and delight, but to be joined to the sufferings of Christ and to spend oneself on behalf of souls. She describes the typical condition of such a person as consisting of deep interior peace while enduring extremes of exterior per-secution, struggle, and hard work for the sake of the gospel. When we put the stories told in the Foundations next to this, Teresa's astute but rather decontextualized description of spir-itual marriage takes on life. The stories reveal to us how Teresa's transformed interior self was united not only with God, but also in a transformative way with the physical, social, cultural, and ecclesial world in which she lived. In other words, the stories both depict and enact the way persons in spiritual marriage gain the capacity to transform their cultural world at its heart. Most obviously, the stories about Teresa herself depict a union of the divine and human, played out in this feisty, witty, and indomitable woman's adventures in living her gospel mission amidst the gritty reality of business affairs, human squabbles, stress, and struggle that looks a lot like what we all deal with in our day-to-day lives. But it is in Teresa's minibiographies of holy Christians--most of them women--that she expresses most fascinatingly for the heart of her culture the explosive truth of the gospel. It is by a deep reading of these stories that we may begin to get a glimpse of what it means to call Teresa a "story theologian and transformer of culture." January-February 2002 Froblicls ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian A "Little Story": The Testimony of a Female Infant Let us listen, then, to Teresa's stoW about Dofia Teresa de Layz, founding benefactress of the monastery at Mba de Tormes. As the fifth daughter of parents who desperately wanted a son, she was such a disappointment to them that--although they took care to have her baptized at once--they left her alone all day "as if she mattered little to them." The stoW continues: When at nightfall a woman came who was taking care of the baby and found out what was going on, she has-tened to see if the child was dead . Weeping, the woman took the baby into her arms and, complaining of the cruelty, said: "How is it, my daughter, are you not a Christian?" The baby girl lifted her head and answered, "Yes, I am," and spoke no more until reach-ing that age at which all children begin to speak. (20.4)2 At first glance we may find this story a bit. incredible. It is what Alex Garcfa-Rivera, in his recent book about the mulatto saint Martin de Porres, calls a "little story.''3 While "big stories" aim to speak universal truth and are acclaimed by those belonging to dominant cultures, "little stories" like this give the appearance of just being naive or superstitious tales aimed at the poor and uneducated. For example, many "little stories" about St. Martin de Porres tell of the saint healing animals and speaking with them as if they were human persons. Garcfa-Rivera shows how, despite their lowly appearance, "little stories" like those may actually convey potent gospel messages of the reversal of values. In a culture where those (such as Martin) with Indian or African blood were regarded as "like animals," the stories of him treat-ing animals "like humans" imaged a shocking upending of all-too- common assumptions. Garcfa-Rivera shows how in such popular "little stories" marginalized people not only express their conflicted position within cultural and religious systems of power, but also challenge and reinterpret those systems within a faith context. Tellers of "little stories" are ci'eatively working out painful personal struggles for meaning and identity and at the same time are offering their culture something new and potentially transformative.4 In view of this, there may be a lot more being conveyed by Teresa's "little stow" of the abandoned infant who speaks up Review for Religious for herself than we would see with only a superficial reading. Teresa is graphically expressing what was probably the most painful fact affecting her own struggle for meaning and identity, namely, the extreme devaluing of the female sex within the Spanish culture of that time. This poignant story of child aban-donment impresses readers with the death-dealing consequences of that devaluation more than any bare assertion ever could. There is more, however, in this story. The newborn female child miraculously speaks, testifying that she is a Christian. Teresa expresses deep irony here, for within the cultural mentality of the time it was as incredible for any female to speak in the name of the gospel as it would be if a newborn infant spoke intelligibly. Thus, through her "little story," Teresa artfully but quite potently affirms women's God-given vocation to proclaim the gospel. In fact, she is claiming that females and others who are cultur-ally regarded as valueless may be even more gifted by God than those who have been accorded an approved voice.5 Tellers of "'little stories" are offering their culture something new and potentially transformative. The Challenges of Teresa's World The stow, then, indirectly but powerfully presents a gospel perspective on the sociocultural and historical situation in which Teresa found herself.6 Let us review the characteristics of that situation and the very serious risks it posed for Teresa and her mission. Throughout the 16th century the Spanish Roman Catholic hierarchy was becoming increasingly rigid and con-trolling towards a series of perceived thi'eats to its authority. The first perceived threat was that of "judaizing" tendencies among those whose ancestors had been forced to convert from Judaism to Catholicism in 1492. Teresa came from such a con-verso family, a fact she always had to conceal, but which was probably known or suspected by many of her contemporaries. In this milieu those with Jewish blood were always considered sus-pect, regardless of their personal belief and behavior. Teresa, January-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian The pain that led to Teresa's transformative storytelling was the spiritual anguish of one with a soul-hunger for God. therefore, was deeply sensitive to all forms of marginalization. The story of the child unwanted by people but gifted by God is about women, but it is. also a basic gospel message applicable to all who are devalued in human eyes. The second perceived threat of that era was the so-called "Lutherans," a category that expanded to include anyone who appeared to express any lack of respect for the pope, the priesthood, or the sacraments. It is noteworthy that, in the story of the infant Teresa de Layz, Teresa makes a point of saying that she was baptized, thereby depicting the child's amazing testi-mony not as a random outbreak of the supernatural, but asthe miraculous fruit of sacramental initiation. This is an important nuance, and typical of Teresa's careful balance in relation to the concerns of her environment. The third perceived threat of the time was a growing wave of illuminists or alumbrados, who claimed special spiritual author-ity on the basis of their mystical experiences and visions. Many of the alumbrados who were prosecuted by the inquisition were women; in the mentality in Spain at the time, women's assumed inferior intelligence made them particularly susceptible to being seduced by the devil. This pr6blem was exacerbated by the Index of 1559, which made most Spanish-language books on prayer and spirituality unavailable and thus prevented women--very few of whom were trained in Latin--from having access to the technical vocabulary and the theology of the spiritual life. Thus, throughout her life but espe.cially during the peak period of her activities of founding and writing, Teresa faced a huge personal and political challenge. Her culture insisted that no mujercita or "little woman"--particularly one of converso back-ground-- should be teaching others about the spiritual life, let alone doing so on the authority of her own spiritual experiences. In view of this, the.seemingly innocent "little story" of the baby Teresa de Layz speaks volumes to those who can read between Review for Religious the lines. Far from being merely a cute and improbable anec-dote suited to the low intellectual capacities of the mujercitas, it is a subtle and explosive parable aimed directly at the very heart of the antigospel forces that impinged upon Teresa's vocation to live out the full effects of her spiritual marriage. What Fueled Teresa's Imagination? In the story of Teresa de Layz, we see Teresa doing exactly what Terrence Tilley describes as the mandate of "story theol-ogy," namely, creatively telling the gospel story for her own culture. But where did Teresa's creative genius as a "story theologian" come from? Elaine Scarry's book The Body in Pain proposes that the basic motivator of creative imagination is pain? A simple, everyday example is the pinch of hunger, which moves us to creatively find a way around any obstacle that is preventing us from getting food. Several recent feminist inter-preters have taken a similar perspective on Teresa, proposing that her creative activity as writer and foundress was primarily a way of subverting the painful limitations imposed on her by her status as a woman in a repressive patriarchal milieu.8 There is an important element of truth here, yet it only goes halfway. The pain that led to Teresa's transformative sto-rytelling was not only social and cultural; it was the spiritual anguish of one with a soul-hunger for God. Above all, Teresa felt herself called to pursue the life of mystical union in its fullness, and to cooperate with God in creating the best possible condi-tions and guidance for others to do the same.9 Yet, as we have seen, there were many serious cultural obstacles to her doing this. She contended, then, with two sources of pain: both the interior rending that resulted from her hurtling into God and the exterior conflict stirred up by her determined efforts to live out her call to be a woman of God, a preacher of the gospel, and a foundress. Let us look at another story to see bow Teresa wrestled creatively and imaginatively with these inner and outer conflicts. "Uppity Women": Catalina Godlnez and Teresa This is Teresa's account of the sudden conversion of Catalina ~1~3~ .~anuary-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian Godfnez, founding benefactress and one of the first to enter the monastery at Beas: [Catalina] had been thinking of a marriage that was being sought for her, which was better than she could have hoped for, and saying to herself: "With what lit-tle my father is content, that I.become connected with an entailed estate; I am thinking of becoming the ori-gin of a new line of descendants." She was not inclined toward marriage, for she considered it demeaning to be subject to someone; nor did she know where this pride came from . The moment she read the inscription [on a nearby crucifix], it seemed to her that, just as sunshine enters a dark room, a light came into her soul by which she understood the truth . Thus she began to despise herself, to have .great desires for penance, which after-ward she put into effect. She at once promised chastity and poverty and wanted to see herself so subject that she would have rejoiced to be carried off then to the land of the Moors and remain there. All of these virtues lasted in her, so that the experience was clearly seen to be a supernatural favor from our Lord. (22.5-6) The story continues on for many pages, recounting an uproar of demons disturbed by Catalina's conversion, then her conflicts with her parents, who refused to give her permission to become a nun, her extreme penances and illnesses, and finally her dra-matic challenge to her relatives and to God that, if she were healed by a certain day, she should be permitted to become a nun. Sure enough, on the appointed day she rose from her bed, ready to assist Teresa in founding the monastery of Beas. Some feminist interpreters have pointed out the fascinat-ing tension he?e between Teresa's delight in portraying Catalina's feisty statement of her desire to "found her own lineage" and not to be subject to anyone and her equal delight in portraying Catalina's conversion to fervent desire for suffering and sub-jection. The dramatic tension between willfulness and obedi-ence continues to play out in the story as Catalina steadfastly refuses to be subject to the wishes of her parents or relatives and then endures years of extreme physical suffering while stub-bornly holding out for fulfillment of her personal vision. It is a Review for Relig4ous great story in itself, and it is a prime illustration of a tension, at the heart of Teresa's story theology, between her culturally sub-versive claim for female authority and her acceptance of abso-lute obedience to God. In the eyes of her culture, Catalina Godfnez was, like Teresa, an "uppity woman." When Catalina dares to say in so many words that she wanted to "found her own lineage" and be sub-ject to no one, one can hardly help hearing Teresa behind her saying, "And look at me! In making these foundations I am actually doing it! I am founding my own female lineage!" Yet, in the next few lines, Teresa successfully dissociates her-self from the "pride" of such a statement as she affirms that God has supernaturally transformed Catalina so that she now desires to be subject to everyone and to be humiliated with Christ cruci-fied. It is as if Teresa is saying, "This is the way my new female lineage will be founded: not in pride, but in humble union with God." While some feminist interpreters have presumed that Teresa's frequent protestations of humility and obedience are largely a smokescreen thrown up to obscure her real goals of female power, my interpretation would be that her commitment to humility and obedience in relation to God was indeed radi-cal. For example, at the heart of all Teresa's stories about her founding activities is the conviction that God is the real founder. She repeatedly says things like "I want our Lord to make known to everyone how in these foundations we creatures have done next to nothing. The Lord directed all by means of such lowly beginnings that only His Majesty could have raised the work to what it now is" (13.7). Although her words about doing "next to nothing" are somewhat hyperbolic, her core conviction is clear: both the initiative and the ultimate success of her found-ing activity come from God. Indeed, it is exactly because she believed her commission for this work came from God that she was willing and able to take such great risks on behalf of estab- At the heart of all Teresa's stories about her founding activities is the conviction that God is the real founder. January-Februa~y 2002 Froblicb * Teresa: Story Theologian lishing the authority and lineage of women. Radical Obedience and the Lineage of Women The next story is one example of these linked commitments to radical obedience and to the spiritual lineage of holy women. In chapter 28 she recounts at great length the story of Dofia Catalina de Cardona,who left her life among the nobility for a hermitage, where she wore coarse cloth, ate only every third day, took the discipline with a heavy chain, and practiced many other harsh austerities and virtuous acts. Later on she suffered greatly in order to found the Discalced friars' monastery at Pastrana. One day Teresa, after Commu'nion in the church there (which was on the site of Dofia Catalina's original hei'mitage), experienced a "suspension." She states: In this suspension, through an intellectual vision, this holy woman appeared in a glorified body and some angels with her. She told me not to grow weary, but that I should strive to go ahead with these foundations. I understood, although she did not indicate this, that she was helping me before God. She also told me something else, but there is no reason to put it here in writing. I was left very much consoled and with a great desire to work hard, and I hope in the goodness of the Lord that with help as good as these prayers of hers I will be able to serve Him in some way. (28.36) In this story Teresa not only explicitly claims the patronage of a holy female spiritual ancestor in her work of founding, but also implicitly affirms what Gillian Ahlgren calls the "visionary epis-temology" that, for at least four centuries before Teresa's time, had been the primary path to spiritual empowerment for women,l° A visionary epistemology asserts that real knowledge of God and real wisdom in relation to the world are conveyed through visionary experience. Throughout the Middle Ages, when women were systematically denied access to theological education and to positions of ecclesial power, the main route by which women could gain religious status and voice was by claim-ing to have visions or locutions in which God communicated directly with them. This was always a dangerous path, subject to suspicion and curtailment from powers that felt threatened. But Review for Religious in Teresa's time it was even more dangerous because of the inten-sive inquisitorial campaign that was being waged against the alumbrados, who claimed special religious experiences. It is quite remarkable that Teresa and her claims to special knowledge through visions not only survived in this atmosphere, but actu-ally thrived. To see how she did it, let us look again at her account of her vision of Dofia Catalina de Cardona. Teresa states, first, that the vision took place immediately after Communion, thus affirming an intrinsic connection between her experience and the church's sacraments. She states, second, that it was an intellectual vision, not an imaginative or bodily one. Although all visions were suspect, those involving less of the sensual component were slightly less so. Over time Teresa became increasingly adept at making this kind of tech-nical distinction, helping to allay the fears of her learned cen-sors. Third, her main emphasis in this story is on the good effects of the vision: it encourages her to dedicate herself even more firmly to serving God and building up the church through making monastic foundations. Gillian Ahlgren notes that, while in her earlier writings Teresa lingers longer over the experien-tial aspects of her visions, in later writings she focuses much more on how to discern their authenticity; and her key test was usually to note their effects)1 Thus we see in this story, written very near the end of Teresa's life, the masterful way in which she tiptoes through the minefields of criticism that could easily have doomed her and her projects. And once again we see how she manages to accom-plish two seemingly contradictory goals at once: reaffirming her humility and obedience to the purposes of God and the church and presenting herself as a uniquely favored female apos-tle and heir to a powerful female spiritual lineage. Troubling and Transforming the Status Quo With hindsight we kntw that, despite her radical and auda-cious vision, Teresa not only succeeded in her life's mission but even became a canonized saint and a doctor of the church. Yet, as the Foundations makes abundantly clear, Teresa's founding activities faced formidable obstacles and often stirred up intense opposition. There is high drama in the stories of Teresa push- January-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian ing indomitably forward while bishops and religious superiors balk, wealthy people or town councils demand conditions she cannot accept, the owners of desired houses refuse to negotiate or their tenants refuse to vacate the premises, nuns and friars lose heart or get into squabbles with one another, and even the weather, the roads, and her aging body seem increasingly to conspire against her. In all this, Teresa usually attributes any form of suffering or resistance to the devil's opposition to her "good works." But, as Alex Garcfa-Rivera notes in relation to St. Martin de Porres, stories about troublesome demons always seem to appear exactly at the place where the symbols most cherished by cult-oral and political powers are being challenged. In Teresa's case, as we have seen, both her activity of founding and her written works artfully contested some of the key assumptions of the cultural and ecclesial status quo: namely, that women cannot teach or lead, that knowledge of God must come in an institutionally approved package, and that money, pedigree, and "pure blood" are the determinants of honor. It seems that in her spiritual marriage Teresa's ability to speak troublesomely and transfor-matively to the very heart of her culture came to fullness. "Water for All Our Needs" As a way of summing up the gist of the perspective pre-sented here--and, more importantly, of Teresa's key spiritual insights--let us listen to one more "little story" from the Foundations. Teresa recounts what transpired when, in the newly founded monastery at Medina del Campo, the nuns suffered from lack of good water: When I called some workmen to dig a new [well], they laughed at me as though I were wanting to throw money away. I asked the sisters what they thought. One said that it should be tried, that since our Lord would have to provide someone to bring us water as well as food, it would be cheap.er for His Majesty to give us the well on the grounds of the house and that thus He would not fail to do so. Observing the great faith and determination with which she said it, I became certain. And, contrary to the opinion of the Review for Religious one who understood all about founts and water, I went ahead. And the Lord was pleased that we were able to put in a conduit which provided enough water for our needs, and for drinking, and which we now have. (1.4) Once again, we see the mujercitas, the foolish little women who have nothing but their faith, being justified over those who sup-posedly "understood all about founts and water." But there may be more in this "little story," particularly when we recall the importance of the imagery of water, wells, and founts in each of Teresa's major books.~3 Given my original premise that the Foundations needs to be interpreted as a sort of"first fruit" of Teresa's spiritual marriage and as having a special relation to the Interior Castle, around which it forms a sandwich, I think we need to place Teresa's "little story" of the well next to this text from the Seventh Dwelling Places: For from these divine breasts where it seems God is always sustaining the soul there flow streams of milk bringing comfort to all the people of the castle. It seems the Lord desires that in some manner these oth-ers in the castle may enjoy the great deal the soul is enjoying and that from that full-flowing river, where this tiny fount is swallowed .up, a spurt of that water will sometimes be directed toward the sustenance of those who in corporeal things must serve these two who are wed . For just.as a great gush of water could not reach us if it didn't have a source, as I have said, so it is understood clearly that there is Someone in the interior depths who shoots these arrows and gives life to this life. (VII.2.6)14 This text from the Interior Castle is clearly talking about the mystical life. Teresa mixes several biblical images with long his-tories of use by mystical writers, such as the "divine breasts," "streams of milk," and "arrows." But Teresa's central image for the welling up of God's lif( in our interior depths is, as usual, water. Here she proclaims that the water of mystical union does not simply remain in the center of the soul, but gushes abun-dantly outward to sustain, enrich, and heal the whole bodily and psychological person. Yet I believe we can take the image one step further, especially if we understand the human person as an intrinsically relational and social being. After all, it is only January-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian a few pages further on that Teresa makes her well-known affir-mation that the purpose of the spiritual marriage is not simply to rest in delightful interiority, but to share those riches with others through "good works." The "little stow" of the well at Medina del Campo is a very concrete, down-to-earth vignette of how the life of mystical union which it is Teresa's mission to promote bears fruit. Here it is physical water that gushes up because of the nuns' faith, providing abundantly for their bod-ily needs. The "spiritual marriage" is complete: divine and human, mystical and physical, are at one. Yet this reading of the Foundations suggests that the outflow of the spiritual marriage goes even further. The nuns' miracu-lous well is also a public testimony to the presence and activity of God in those whom society regards as mere mujercitas, foolish little women. The water of God that gushes up in the spiritual marriage works to sustain, heal, and transform not only the indi-vidual person, but her whole social and cultural world as well. For a perspective on this that is from a completely different tradition, yet is remarkably consonant with Teresa's spiritual insight, listen to this poetic text fromthe Chinese Tao-te- Ching:ts The highest motive is to be like water. Water is essential to all living things, yet it demands no pay or recognition. Rather it flows humbly to the lowest level. Nothing is weaker than water, yet, for overcoming what is hard and strong, nothing surpasses it. It seems that in The Book of Her Foundations Teresa teaches, through her consummate "stoW theology," that the gift of union with God in the ~piritual marriage indeed makes a person like water. Such a person flows humbly to the lowest level and is rad-ically obedient to the direction of her own and others' thirst for God. In this way she unites herself intimately with the heart of her culture and can ov4rcome that in it which is hard and strong. Notes Terrence W. Tilley, StoO, Tbeolog~ (V~lmington: Michael Glazier, 1985), pp. 11-16. All quotations from the Foundations are from The Collected Works Review for Religious of St. Teresa ofAvila, Vol. 3, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodriguez (Washington, D.C.: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1985). 3 Alex Garcfa-Rivera, St. Ma~-tin de Porres: The "Little Stories" and the Semiotics of Culture (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995). 4 As several commentators have noted, Teresa's style of rhetoric is "women's language"; that is, not only is it the vernacular instead of Latin, but it is conversational, imagistic, elliptical, and aimed at the general populace rather than an elite. See, for example, Elias R. Rivers, "The Vernacular Mind of St. Teresa," Carmelite Studies 3 (1984). In recent years feminist analyses have revealed how this "women's lan-guage" is far more sophisticated than it first appears; it often functions as a sort of "Trojan horse" strategy that lets Teresa speak in places and ways that would otherwise be closed to her. See especially Alison Weber, Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), and Carole Slade, St. Teresa of Avila: Author of a Heroic Life (Berkel.ey: University of California Press, 1995). s See Antonio P~rez-Romero, Subversion and Liberation in the Writings of St. Teresa of Avila (Atlanta: Rodopi, 1996). 6 For an overview of these trends, see Te6fanes Egido, "The HistoriCal Setting of St. Teresa's Life," trans. S. Payne and M. Dodd, Carmelite Studies 1 (1980); also Gillian Ahlgren, Teresa of Avila and the Politics of Sanctity (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), especially chap. 1. 7 Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Maki~zg and Unmaking of the World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985). 8 See Weber, Slade, Ahlgren, and P~rez-Romero. 9 Among the above commentators, Ahlgren and P~rez-Romero offer an interpretation of Teresa's motives that is similar to my own. 10 Ahlgren, chap. 7. On the tradition of women visionaries, see Elizabeth Alvilda Petroff, Medieval Women's Visionary Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986). 1, See Ahlgren, especially p. 10 I, for discussion of Teresa's devel-oping theology in relation to visions. ,2 Garcfa-Rivera, p. 36. ,3 In the Life, chaps. 11-22, she wrote of the "Four Waters," and in the Way, chaps. 19-21, of the "fount of living water." In the Interior Castle the same imagery appears, most prominently in the First, Fourth and Seventh Dwelling Places. 14 The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, Vol. 2 (Washington, D.C.: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1980). ,s Having been given this quotation on a prayer card, I consulted several English versions of the Tao-te-Ching without being able to locate this specific translation. I was able to determine, however, that .~anuary-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian the first half of the quotation comes from poem 8 and the second half from poem 78. The Beast of Contemplation I walked past someflattened grass behind the house this morning, where an animal had lain in the night, touching a mystery by touching the fringe of the turf where something wild had passed and paused and passed again. What did the animal lying in that place think (or not think) in the otherness of its sojourn there? I ask this, even as I know the wild creature lying behind the house to be none other than myself. This, after all, is the patch of grass where I sprawl under the stars each night, sometimes lost in contemplation, other times in sleep. Them is an animal of God that makes its lair in me, some distance, often,from my mind. It comes as stranger, glimpsed in a vestige of presence, a pressed-smooth swath ofunmowed lawn. I marvel at the wildness of this elusive beast, leaving only the bay of its body at the place where God has passed and paused and passed again. Belden C. Lane Review for Religious NIHAL ABEYASINGHA Instilling Christian/ Religious Culture: Instinct and Connaturality At on the Internet, there is a link to Chimpanzee Cultures Website. Accustomed to speaking of culture as a human creation, one wonders how it might apply to the animal world. In fact, given that there are certain characteristics common to an entire species in the ani-mal world and that there are variants identifiable within the species, there is some evidence that one animal's "discovery" can gradually spread to other animals of the same species) The key words here--common, variants, spread--contain concepts to consider in discussing culture in human societies. The pre-sent article will use those concepts in looking at the culture of religious life. Religious or consecrated life has not been of a single mold through history. Common to it always and everywhere is the following of Christ in accord with one's baptismal commitment. Variants include hermit life and common life, enclosed monas-tic life and mendicant life, institutes of apostolic life and secu-lar institutes. Religious life that sprang up in one set of circumstances has often spread to other circumstances, and today religious life cannot hold itself entirely aloof from the many rapid changes occurring differently all over the world. Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR wrote for us twice in 1999. His address is 454/9 Piachaud Gardens; Peradeniya Road; 20000 Kandy; Sri Lanka. ~-2~ --- 2- January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture The present article makes two proposals. First, if there is transmission of a common way of life all through a group and if innovations can be spread within a given species in the animal world, one can envisage a rationally planned and directed pro-gram for transmitting to new entrants the culture of the Christian life and the subculture of religious life. Second, I pro-pose certain "settings" where new entrants might be placed, where their religious instinct and sense of connaturality could be fostered. How Transmit Culture? Culture can be considered as the behaviors, skills, and knowl-edge that you acquire from and share with others of your species, but that differ from the way of life lived by members of your species elsewhere. This culture is neither acquired genetically nor compelled by the environment, but neither can it be taught-- it has to be caught. In odaer words, there is a memory (one could call it "institutional memory") that the older generation of a species embodies and carries. In associating with that genera-tion and experiencing various of its devices, the younger gener-ation comes to share in the culture. These younger members do so not by compulsion, but because that way of doing things is "connatural" to them. They do it because they want to do it. John Henry Newman (1801-1890) suggested "that our most natural mode of reasoning is, not from propositions to propo-sitions, but from things to things, from concrete to concrete, from wholes to wholes.''2 He says that, as regards "the great fun-damental truths of religion, natural and revealed, and as regards the mass of religious men, these truths, doubdess, may be proved and defended by an array of invincible natural arguments, but such is not commonly the method in which those same logical arguments make their way into our minds. The grounds on which we hold the divine origin of the church and the previous truths which are taught us by nature--the being of a God and the immortality of the soul--are felt by most men to be recondite and impalpable, in proportion to their depth and reality.''3 Animals seem to have this concrete kind of "reasoning." Endowed with a natural sense, they learn their "culture" by liv-ing it and doing the things that accord with it. People are born Review for Religious with natural instincts and reason; they learn to be human beings within a culture somewhat as animals do. But, because of their reason and free will, they are not determined by their instincts. Yet--and here we enter the sphere of religion--the human being cannot be satisfied with the material. "Our hearts are made for you, O Lord, and they are restless until they rest in you" are the famous words of Augustine of Hippo (354-430). Religion provides for the restlessness of the heart. Some indi-viduals experience that restlessness more intensely, and often with particular nuances. This leads them to seek rest for their restlessness not only in Christian living within the broad framework of the church, but along a specific way of following Christ closely. This they find instinctively in a par-ticular religious congrega-tion. When asked why they entered this one and not that, they have their own idiosyncratic modes of saying so. But most impor-tant is that they feel at home in the institute and are happy in its life and apostolate. Today's religious come from a different social background from the religious of the first half of the 20th century. Ministering to Today's World Feeling at home and happy does not mean that they have reached the end of their journey. In fact, they have only begun. And that is why I suggest that there must be some way in which they can be helped to grow. Instinctively and by way of con-naturality, they should be assisted to grow, incorporating what is in accord with their quest and rejecting what is contrary to it. Today's religious come from a different social background from the religious of the first half of the 20th century.4 They bring with them a certain culture and the popular piety with which they have grown up in their homes. During the training period they are filled with a whole range of knowledge. But, once the period of training is over, they try to use as the basis of their ministry the popular piety they carried with them at their entrance.~ This does not work. ~tanuary-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture Change (rapid, radical, in almost every sphere) and diversity (abundant and bewildering) are unavoidable present-day reali-ties, but Christians have no cause to fear them. By baptism (see Rm 6:3-11) we are participants in the most radical of changes, the death and resurrection of Christ, phenomena that express themselves in a never-ending variety of ways. This reality, how-ever, needs to be instilled more and more into the life and min-istry of religious. In other words, in their response to problems related to all the change and diversity in the world, Christians and especially religious are continually called to return to the Christian mystery of Christ's death and resurrection. Popular piety is inadequate to face the modern world. Popular piety can be seen as "contractual": if one fulfills certain set obligations, then one will grow as a Christian and attain sal-vation. Sometimes this piety may border on the magical: if one does certain things in a certain way, then various desirable results will follow. This approach, still present in the life of many peo-ple, has helped many on the path of holiness. But is it the answer to today's problematic of change and diversity? Is going with the practices of many a help or a hindrance for religious in their life and work with and for others? Today's change and diversity have far-reaching effects. The Christian perspective on this situation might be stated briefly as follows: Human freedom is used and abused, but, no matter what, God remains faithful. The death and resurrection of Christ shows this, and Christians share in it. Their share is in what they do, not merely what they talk about. Jesus, knowing who would betray or deny him, shared a special meal with them. The church continues to remember that, on the night he was betrayed (by his disciples and by us), he took bread and said "Take and eat . " This meal shared with his betrayers--and continued by the community of believers--is the place where we learn how to handle the world in which we live. We learn, not by study, but by doing.We learn, not bj~ logical reasoning so much as by a kind of instinct and connaturality. This doing (in memory of him) is the source of knowledge, knowledge of a unique opportunity for us to turn to the pure victim of our betrayal and find both salvation for ourselves and cordial reciprocity with one another. If we learn by what we do, it follows that there can be no Review for Religious predetermined curriculum. We can only seek or provide set-tings where connaturality and the religious instinct can be evoked and then try to adopt or inculcate a "rationalized asceti-cism," that is, a commitment to continual self-control and dis-cipline over what does not serve our vocation as religious--in other words, engagement in ongoing discernment. The religious instinct and discernment need to work in har-ness. In a variety of settings, rationalized asceticism is only a means. What is primary is the goal, namely, following Christ according to the particular focus of one's institute. A kind of rationalized asceticism, however, could function, not so much by logical reasoning as by instinct and connaturality. The one who joins an institute feels "at home." In that situation, one is helped to rationally understand and discern one's way in the actual world where one lives. Gradually, feeling at home takes on a focus and content. Settings Where Connaturality Can Function By a setting I mean something on the lines of the Santiniketan, the school established in 1901 by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). That school was meant to be a place where students could absorb the Indian spirit. It was out of the ordi-nary; it had eminent teachers, but few pupils. Yet those few learned something which others did not and made a contribu-tion to India as a whole. Times have changed, but the need remains for us to experience the world existentially and to work out our response in accord with the gospel and the charism of our institute. The extraordinary, if it happens, is something to be thank-ful for. Normal growth takes place in the ordinary situations of life. Growth in religious life occurs best, I think, when religious envision their own life stories (with their own memories, behav-iors, skills, and knowledge) against their faith-vision of their baptism--which made them sharers in the mystery of Jesus Christ dying and rising again. A certain interpretation and synthesis of his own life can perhaps be detected in Pope John Paul's first encyclical, Redemptor hominis (§ 14): Man in the full truth of his existence . . . --in the January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture sphere of his own family, in the sphere of society and very diverse contexts, in the sphere of his own nation or people, and in the sphere of the whole of mankind--this man is the primary route that the church must travel in fulfilling her mission: he is the primary and j~tndamental way for the church, the way traced out by Christ himself, the way that leads invariably through the mystery of the incarnation and the redemption. In 1979 (within the first year of his pontificate), during the Mass celebrated in the Oswiecim-Brzezinka (Auschwitz- Birkenau) concentration camp, he said: Can it still be a surprise to anyone that the pope born and brought up in this land,, the pope who came to the See of St. Peter from the diocese in whose territory is situated the camp of Oswiecim, should have begun his first encyclical with the words Redemptor hominis and should have dedicated it as a whole to the cause of man, to the dignity of man, to the threats to him, and finally to his inalienable rights that can so easily be trampled on and annihi-lated by his fellow men?6 John Paul II lived and was educated in the West. Naturally his categories of thought are derived from the Western tradition. Is it not possible, though, for people of the East as well as the West, to see beneath these thoughts of his the process by which he worked through various situations and reached a synthesis that was connatural to him? That is, to see his experience of life in Poland (as worker, stage actor, writer, and so forth), the experience of the concentration camps, the search for the "causes" of the concentration camps, the articulation of the principles of his life, and finally, the synthesis of Christ, the church, and man as all interrelated.7 And this in the first year of his papacy! And now the evening of his life is filled with sym-bolic gestures flowing from that same synthesis--attempts to bring about reciprocal relations among human beings, Christ, and the church--a visit to a synagogue in Rome and to a mosque in Syria, asking pardon of God and of fellow human beings for the sins committed by the church and tendering apologies to the Greek and Ukrainian churches. Review for Religious Experience and Exemplary Religious Behavior Popular piety, as I have said, cannot respond to the present world with its change and diversity. No matter how much one repeats this to new entrants, the response is to point to how well popular piety is doing in pilgrimage centers, among a high percentage of regular churchgoers, among the Christian right, and in various emerging movements. Perhaps they are correct. The majority of Christians are rooted in popular or traditional piety. But is that the climax and high point of the following of Christ? Hardly. Without the interaction of popular piety with its roots in the Christian tradition in a context of continual conversion, does popular piety not dete-riorate into the justification and ratio-nalization of the baser instincts? Well-known preachers advocating a pop-ular and populist piety have been dis-covered to have been leading double lives. Corruption and violence are known as much among "practicing" Christians as among the general population. Religious, too, may experience a dichotomy between their piety and their work, between what they do in church and what they do outside. It can be valu-able to experience it, to have an ordinary job while at the same time trying to fulfill the obligations of a religious.8 This is a common situation for ordinary Christians-- the need to combine work with family life. In ordinary work-places, individuals claim no privileges, but simply share the lot of the others. In such circumstances, people discover the pres-sures that flow from the pace of change and the range of diver-sity that has to be confronted. Confronting the real world of jealousy, fraud, cutthroat com-petition, and intrigue provides an opportunity to reflect care-fully on one's behavioral response in the light of one's Christian commitment. In a study of the attitudes of people working in several private-sector companies in Sri Lanka, the following atti-tudes were measured (on a scale of ten): Among superiors: authoritarian 8, egalitarian 2, and permissive 5; among subor-dinates: rebel i0, cooperation 1, ingratiator 5.9 It is highly likely Popular piety, as I have said, cannot respond to the present world with its change and diversity. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Cbristian/Religious Culture that Christians and religious in similar work situations have adopted similar behavioral patterns. How does such behavior fit in with gospel norms? Is equality not implied in baptism, the root of the religious vocation and of cooperation in the mission of a religious institute? Does the high score for authoritarian attitudes not imply that Jesus' exhortation about the greatest and the least, about the master washing the feet of his disciples, has been forgotten? The question arises: Can a process of"con-scious reflection" for religious be initiated on these lines? Conscious Reflection When young people tell Archbishop Rembert Weakland of Milwaukee that they are having a difficult time understanding what it means to be a Catholic,-he tells them to participate in the Eucharistic celebration with the same parish community every Sunday for six months and, during the same six-month period, to work in a soup kitchen. If they follow these two prac-tices, they will see for themselves what it means to be a Catholic.1° The question posed is conceptual ("understanding"); the remedy suggested is an existential commitment (the Eucharist in the same community, the same soup kitchen, for six months). It leads to a realization that Christian life is about worship and service. Commitment to the same group--but why? Because then one works one's way beyond immediate emotions (sense plea-sure), beyond the true-false dichotomy (intellectual pleasure), and beyond control-or-be-controlled situations (the pleasure of power), towards accepting realities for which no words can be found and tasks which are not directly pleasurable--but all of which, at a deep level, give satisfaction and joy. Following that advice, one avoids a "shopping" mentality; one learns through the drudgery and happiness of one's commitment. Oliver Goldsmith implies this about the parson in his "Deserted Village": "All his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. / As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, / Swells from the vale, and mid-way leaves the storm, / Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,/Eternal sunshine settles in its head" (lines 188-192). The "eternal sunshine" 6f a holiness that brings joy and fulfillment is for all. Religious are meant to pursue holiness Review for Religious with great intensity in the service of all Christians. In the Middle Ages, religious were more prominent in the guidance and accompaniment of the faithful in holiness than priests were.~L "All the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the holiness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity" (LG §40). "Mother Church rejoices at finding within her bosom men and women who more closely follow and more clearly demonstrate the Savior's self-giving by embracing poverty with the free choice of God's sons, and by renouncing their 6wn wills . . ." (LG §42). The point of the "specialized" pursuit of holiness is to bear witness among the followers of Christ that everything should not be cut down to the size of the self, but rather that the self needs to be expanded to recognize and embrace the glory of God man-ifested in the world, in one's fellow humans, and in Christ. Religious Cultural Literacy In the Catholic tradition, faith is a personal adherence to God that involves, inseparably, "free assent to the whole truth that God has revealed" (tides quae). It differs from faith in the Reform tradition, which emphasizes trust and commitment (tides fiducialis). Sometimes the distinction is forgotten. It is important to maintain the difference if one wants to remain rooted in the Catholic tradition. Thus a first requirement would be cultural literacy~2 within the Catholic tradition--in church doctrine, in religious life in general, and in one's own institute in particular. What is needed is a clear and accurate understanding of the truths that one's community shares and the standard of behavior that community members together endorse, as approved by the church. This is not expert knowledge, but simply accurate knowledge. Accuracy is, I think, not too much to ask in an age of computers, where email addresses and Web sit~s have to be keyed in without an error of even a single letter. Beyond an accurate minimum, one can and should, of course, increase one's knowledge, while not necessarily claiming that one always practices the behavior that one endorses. This knowledge and these standards of behavior must, however, be understood as constituting the bottom line without which the present collectivity will not survive as a group. January-February 2002 Abeyasingha ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture This minimum has to be learned by rote. "Learning by heart" is one of the most popular techniques of education in Asia. It has to be tested not just once but periodically. This knowledge and these behavioral standards should be the content of discussions, decisions, and vision statements. Otherwise, indi-viduals might interpret the words to mean exactly what serves their own personal interest within the existing network of roles and relationships. Before entering the novitiate, candidates should be able to move easily and accurately within the idiom and grammar specific to the Catholic tradition. Afterwards, in the novitiate, they can learn the idiom, grammar, and standard of behavior specific to the institute. The Eucharist as Cultural Activity The great formative influence in Christian living and a for-tiori in religious life is the Eucharist and the other sacraments. There is a constant danger in Asia that these sacramental rites may be reduced to the level of popular religion and sometimes even of magic. Two aspects of the Eucharistic celebration are relevant here. First, people should have a basic knowledge of the elements that come together in the liturgy.~3 Second, but far more important, is the actual celebration of the Eucharist. Every Eucharistic celebration includes the great metaphors and images of Christianity. Every celebration has at least seven points of reference--assembly and gathering, table of the word, memo-rial, sacrifice, food for the journey, eschatological reality, and cosmic transformation.~4 Every celebration cannot highlight all these, but the meaning of the celebration is in the reality that is done by the group of believers. The liturgy is not an act of per-sonal piety or a situation for personal devotion. It is of its very nature community building. Even these ordinary actions and realities are sacred, binding the group together in Christ as they do. In Christ, the Eucharist makes the church and the church makes the Eucharist. This imposes a certain style and spirit on the participants.~5 Linked to this style and spirit is a rationalized asceticism, a renunciation of self in order to share the celebration with others. This elementary structure, idiom, and grammar of the liturgy needs, then, to be understood and the liturgy's forma- Review for Religious tive process realized. This formation is also a journey. Its out-line is the Rite of Initiation of Adults,16 which consists of our personal pilgrimage to know ourselves, reflection on the story of other Christians, purification and enlightenment, accepting the mystery, reflecting on the mystery and renewing our lives. Here, in the context of the metaphors and images of the Christian faith remembered and celebrated in the liturgy, can-didates move to total conversion: intellectual (without which there is no growth in under-standing the Christian mystery), moral (with-out which one does not seek to improve one's life), and religious (without which one makes no judgment about the condition of one's own faith). One learns from what one does (the way of action). This has a knowledge dimension in which the memory is recalled and cel-ebrated, a pledge of future glory is given, and devotion is nour-ished for continued Christian living. Christian cultural literacy provides one with the language and communication needed to be part of the Christian tradition as it is at this time in history. Lamentation about what might have been serves little purpose. What possibilities exist within the Asian tradition for carrying the Christian tradition further? While the idiom and grammar of the Christian tradition can be stated and understood briefly, there is a richness of imagery that aims at evoking faith beyond some brief concepts. Take the language of the creed: "I believe in Jesus Christ, [the Father's] only Son, our Lord. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell. On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead." Clearly, this profession of faith includes more concrete images than abstract Before entering the novitiate, candidates should be able to move easily and accurately within the idiom and grammar specific to the Catholic tradition. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture concepts. It is perhaps, in this area that Asia would be most com-petent to make a contribution. Possible Asian Enrichments The "text"--the idiom and grammar--remains untouched. Without denying the text, Asia is supremely gifted to enrich the imagery. Jacome Gonsalvez (1676-1742), who is considered an important writer in Sinhala (the local language of Sri Lanka), did not try to reexpress theology in the Sinhala idiom: his the-ology repeats the Scholastics. But, relying on the apocryphal tradition (as regards details of Mary's early years) and on an abundance of imagery drawn from local sources, his work evokes an attitude of respect for the Christian faith even among read-ers of other religious persuasionsY Given the technique of learning the idiom and grammar by heart, the specific Asian contribution would be faith reflection in love--not by negating that idiom and grammar, not by lamenting the shortcomings of history, not by challenging or seeming to defy authority, but by being rooted in our tradition and proposing to our countrymen, especially fellow believers, images and perspectives that serve to enrich their faith. Another element of enrichment is the liturgy. Here we are to find meaning in what we do within our community of believ-ers. But there is the danger of making the liturgical action (com-munitarian of its very nature) an act of private and personal devotion. This is a real danger, and not only in the Christian religion. In Sri Lankan Buddhism, certain innovations, espe-cially the inclusion of the vernacular in a form of devotion (Bodhi Piija), have become popular in a short time. But other (quasi-magical) rites and patterns of popular thinking that were in no way in the mind of the innovator have found their way into the rite.L8 This development has taken place within some twenty-five years. Similarly, Christian Asian religious can offer new perspectives. Most p~:obably, in the Eucharistic prayer of Addai and Mari, there was no narrative of the institution. Would evi-dence of such a liturgical tradition give indication (for the uni-versal church) that the meaning of the liturgical action is in what is done? Asian celebration could give the liturgy an enrich-ment (and sometimes, unfortunately, a deformation). Review for Religious If cultural literacy is an "understanding that follows love and commitment," the liturgy is the celebration that "faith and promise are correlative." The word of God proclaimed to the liturgical assembly is received in faith; its promise is fulfilled today in the midst of the assembly. It is not a question of con-cepts so much as the reality of the commitment. Ever Searching for God The present article considers religious life as a search for God. That search is intense--as intense as the desire of a drown-ing person for air. Growth in the religious life is giving focus and content to that desire in accordance with the Christian tradi-tion (particularly the idiom and grammar of doctrine and litur-gical celebration) and th~ specific charism of the religious institute. The process is within the realm of the ordinary, and the manner is by way of instinct and connaturality. The search occurs in a world permeated by both sin and grace. The vision always involves the death and resurrection of Jesus. In this search, reli-gious in Asia, after identifying the specific contribution they can make, need to make it with courage without jeopardizing com-munion with the universal church. As St. Irenaeus (c. 130-c. 200) wrote, "though languages differ throughout the world, the content of the tradition is one and the same. The churches estab-lished in Germany have no other faith or tradition, nor do those of the Iberians, nor those of the Celts, nor those of the East, of Egypt, of Libya.''19 Yet there has to be a distinct element in the manner in which the faith is lived, celebrated, and expressed as spirituality. As Francig de Sales (1567-1622) has said, "the prac-tice of devotion must differ for the gentleman and the artisan, the servant and the prince, for the widow, young girl, or wife. Further, it must be adapted to their particular strength, cir-cumstances, and duties: . True devotion never causes harm, but rather perfects everything we do."2° Notes ~ It was reported in Newsweek (21 May 2001) that scientists dis-covered in 1981 a humpback whale creating waves with its tail to trap fish. That innovation of a single reported case is now said to have spread to half the humpback whale population. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture 2 John Henry Newman, An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent (Garden City: Image Books, 1955), p. 260. Some examples provided by Newman of how this sense of natural inference works are worth recording: "A peasant who is weather wise may yet be simply unable to assign intelligible reasons why he thinks it will be fine tomorrow; and, if he attempts to do so, he may give reasons wide of the mark, but that will not weaken his own confidence in his prediction. His mind does not proceed step-by-step, but he feels all at once and together the force of various combined phenomena though he is not conscious of them. Again, there are physicians who excel in the diagnosis of com-plaints, though it does not follow from this that they could defend their decision in a particular case against a brother physician who dis-puted it. They are guided by natural acuteness and varied experience; they have their own idiosyncratic modes of observing, generalizing, and concluding; when questioned, they can but rest on their own authority, or appeal to the future event" (pp. 261-262). 3 Newman, Grammar, p. 264. Thi~ "feeling" of which Newman speaks is "a feeling in the human mind., allied perhaps to that sense of danger which animals exhibit when placed in the vicinity of natu-ral enemies of their race, and which makes birds cower when the hawk is in the air, and beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the desert" (p. 264; read pp. 260-299 for a better understanding of this natural inference and illative sense, as propounded by Newman). 4 See N. Abeyasingha, "The Next Generation of Religious in Asia" in Review for Religious 58, no. 6 (November-December 1999): 621-629. 5 Some years ago I was asked by a boy whom a religious in a lead-ing Catholic school was preparing for First Holy Communion whether it was true that, if he were to bite the host, it would bleed. In fact, he asked me this after he had observed me biting the host at a Mass I cel-ebrated. 6 L'Osservatore Romano (English edition, 16 July 1979), p. 6. 7 "In recent times--particularly during the Second Vatican Council--there have been long discussions whether this relationship is theocentric or anthropocentric. There will never be a satisfactory answer to this question if we continue to consider the two terms sep-arately. In fact, Christianity is anthropocentric precisely because it is theocentric, and simultaneously it is theocentric, thanks to its extraor-dinary anthropocentrism. But it is just the mystery of the incarna-tion which, in itself, explains this relationship" (John Paul II, L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 7 December 1978, p. 1). 8 I am the only Catholic priest working in a state university that has a large majority of Buddhists among staff and students. Over the years I have had to make certain decisions and adopt certain behav-ior patterns in order to practice a minimum degree of Christian wit-ness. Review for Religious 9 See Gunapala Nanayakkara, Public Administration: The Socio- Cultural Milieu (Study Series: Public Administration 88-2, Jayawardenepura: Postgraduate Institute of Management, 1988), p. 10. 10 Cited in William C. Spohn, "The Need for Roots and Wings: Spirituality and Christian Ethics," Theology Digest 47, no. 4 (Winter 2000): 329. 11 See the Catechism of the Catholic Church, §927. See also Sacramentum Mundi, Vol. 4, p. 394: "In Palestine, for example, in the 6th century, the abbot of a monastery exercised penitential discipline even in regard to capital sins. Sometimes little attention was paid to whether the monk-confessor was a priest or layman (as early as the 5th and 6th centuries), but this drew protest from Pseudo-Dionysius. After the Iconoclast controversy (8th century) only the priest-monks had in practice the right to hear confessions." ,2 See E.D. Hirsch Jr., Cultural Literacy (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987) and The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy (1988). 13 See Dennis C. Smolarski, Liturgical Literacy from Anamnesis to Worship (New York: Paulist Press, 1990). ~4 See Kevin Irwin, "Models of the Eucharist," Origins 31, no. 3 (31 May 2001): 33-44. ~s See Aidan Kavanagh, Elements of Rite: A Handbook of Liturgical Style (Bangalore: NBCLC, 1996); Dennis C. Smolarski, How Not to Say Mass: A Guidebook for All Concerned about Authentic Worship (New York: Paulist Press, 1986). 16 See J.D. Dunning, "The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults: Model of Adult Growth," Worship 53 (March 1979): 142-156. See N. Abeyasingha, Towards Contextualizing Theology with a CSsR Bias (Bangalore: Joint Secretariats, 1990), pp. 80-95. ~7 There is a precedent for this kind of reading, reflection, and interpretation of the Christian tradition. Very early in the New Testament, there was a Christological interpretation of the Exodus (1 Co 10:1-4). Aphraates (260/275-345), the oldest Syrian father, wrote: "Jesus the son of Nun led the people over to the promised land. Jesus our Savior promised the land of life to all who, passing over the true river Jordan, have believed and are circumcised in their hearts" (Dem 11, 12). The title "physician" is applied to Jesus by Ignatius of Antioch (+ c. 110): "There is one Physician, who is both flesh and spirit, born and not born, who is God in man, true life in death, both from Mary and from God, first able to suffer and then unable to suffer, Jesus Christ our Lord" (Letter to Ephesians 7.2). The early fathers were so rooted in their faith and commitment that their understanding and interpretation of Scripture and doctrine fol-lowed that faith and commitment. Perhaps their interpretation of the January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture Scriptures and the tradition may not be endorsed by modern exege-sis, but they still remain a "faith reading in love" of the Scriptures and the Christian tradition. Through narrative, drama, allegory, allit-eration, and other literary devices, they contributed to the faith by evoking it in their fellow believers. It was in this particular and lim-ited way that they contributed to the enrichment of the tradition of other churches. It was a "pedagogy" in the sense that "nothing exists except what God causes to be. "There is nothing, therefore, that is hated by God, nor is there anything hated by the Word. Both are one, both are God" (Instructor of Children 1.8.62.3-4). 18 See Richard Gombrich and Gananath Obeyesekere, Buddhism Transformed: Religious Change in Sri Lanka (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 348-410. 19 Adversus Haereses 5.20.1. 2o Introduction to the Devout Life, Part 1, chap. 3. "Attentiveness is the natural prayer of the soul" Nicolas de Malebranche A new resident in the yard: pink stars, in clusters, growing in the hollows of the lawn where the old copper beech roots sank. Four-petaled blossoms, a tube, perhaps, slit four ways and splayed to points, each crayoned pale magenta on the vein, centers barely green, white stamens half an eyelash thick, white pollen feet in the air, visible only an inch from the eye. The buds are tight pink dots, slightly gray, sand-grain small. Alone they'd be invisible. They grow in clusters, three or four rising frrom a claw of six petals, green and spiked as cosmos seeds, opening like orange slices around the straight, slightly furred stem. Doretta Cornell RDC Review for Religious KATHLEEN MCALPIN Conversion: A Summons from the Word of God All conversion happens through a summons from the Word of God. There is an intensity about the word summons ("called with authority or urgency"l) that heightens it beyond a simple call. It poises us to respond. In this instance the summons calls us to a journey of conversion. God's Word comes to us in special moments and in ordinary and unlikely places. The word of God comes in Scripture. It summons us as a personal and communal call to encounter the Mystery of God. The gospel readings abound in calls to deeper faith and more confident hope and to ever effective love of God, neighbor, and all creation. The word of God is God's self-communication, God's love.2 The ultimate word of God's self-communication is the paschal mystery--the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ--a mystery that remains in God's ongoing self-communication. The Letter to the Romans assures us that God's love is poured forth in our hearts (Rm 5:5). We know this mystery as grace, a pers6nal encounter with God. Grace is the word of God, the self-gift of God, telling us of a God with us and3'br us.3 Kathleen McAlpin RSlVl works with theological students at Regis College in its integration-for-ministry and spiritual-direction programs: Regis College; 15 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario; M4Y 2R5 Canada. January-February 2002 conversion process . 40 McAlpin ¯ Conversion The Word of God in Ordinary Places How does the word of God have its origin in natural events and forces? The movie Chocolat offers a good example of how conversion comes in ordinary and unlikely places. For the inhabitants of a storybook town in France, conversion comes in the form of the stranger who opens a chocolate shop. This myth is set in a sleepy but rigidly conservative village in southern France in 1959. Vianne, a young woman of multiethnic background (Latin American and French) arrives in town, her young daughter in tow, hoping to establish a chocolate shop using some secret Mayan chocolate recipes with strange mystical properties, recipes handed down to her by her mother. Vianne has a great compassion for people and a capacity to listen to them. She becomes a catalyst for change. For some in the village, she becomes a healing presence. In others' eyes, however, because she does not share in the Jansenistic spirituality of the Catholic community, she appears scandalous and represents temptation. The word of God has summoned Vi~nne to conversion--in her relationships with the townspeople, through her involvement in the joys and sorrows of the lives about her, and through love. For Vianne also finds love and support in Roux, yet another stranger, whose arrival in town is a further catalyst for conversion not only for Vianne but also for the townspeople. The word of God comes from love. It calls people to love. The word of God came to me in a similar way. At a liturgy at Romero House, a center for refugees in Toronto, I met a refugee couple from Uzbekistan, a country of the former Soviet Union, near Afghanistan. They left because of the extreme religious and political persecution they suffered. Circumstances forced them to leave their two teenage daughters behind. They hoped to bring them to North America soon after their own arrival, but were unaware of all the protocols involved. They now realize they may have to wait for more than a year--if the plan works at all. The deep empathy I felt was a call to be in prayerful solidarity and close community with this couple as they wait in their political dark night. As we prayed at Mass, their presence, their story, haunted me. I united with them as whispers of translation occurred between them during the liturgy. The word of God comes to us in the everyday world of our relationships, in society, and in the mystery called church. The Review for Religious summons to conversion comes in the word of God: from a friend asking for prayers during struggles, in the news of family grief, in the snow falling on cedars, in the call to be patient with an irritating person, in delight at the sun breaking through darkness, in the efforts of racial reconciliation, in the call to reuse and recycle, inthe faith exerted in a trial of doubt, in the hopeful efforts of a community trying to respond to the reign of God. The summons is God's self-communication that reveals what we love. The summons to conversion is a call to find God in all things, and to fall forever in love. "Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.''4 In finding God, in falling in love, our lives hope to be changed in a permanent way. In times of doubt and anxiety, we may have many questions about the darkness or seeming nothingness of the world, and the powerlessness of our lives. In times of hope and joy, we often find it simple to seek and to know the living God and discern our response to God with full hearts. In other words, "what you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evening, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything." s What or whom do we love? What seizes our imagination as women and men, as religious, in the church, in the world? What gives us hope in our relationships and in our decisions? Falling in love is more about relationships than it is about issues or agendas. We are seekers of God on a mission. Our God is a living, loving God. Our mission is the dream of God, the reign of God. Our very lives reveal what we have found and with whom we have fallen in love. In grace, a living and loving God is present with us when our hearts are encouraged to respond in trusting relationships. God is with us when our hearts are broken over the unending wars and disasters that envelop our world, the universal suffering of women and children, the oppression of the Our mission is the dream of God, the reign of God. January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion earth, and the prejudice regarding those who are "other" by race or culture, poverty or status. God is with us and for us as we endure personal grief with our families and friends. Grace abounds in sorrow and in the amazement of love. God embraces us as we embrace others and our own conversion in the unfolding events of our daily life. Conversion in the Experience of Religious Life The history and the wisdom of our Christian tradition have led us to believe that the only reason for religious life is the experience of God. This experience can come through other forms of life, and ~o there is wisdom in being mutually supportive in our search for the living God. We search for this mystery explicitly in relationships with associates and partners in ministry. This can be done only with oil in our lamps. In her recent book Finding the Treasure, Sandra Schneiders reminds us that religious life is about our quest for God. Our life is about the "one thing necessary":6 being in a loving relationship with God, living our sorrows and joys in the embrace symbolized by the religious vows. As I understand it, the early vow formulas of religious were simpler. Women and men dedicated their lives to the love of God and neighbor and professed this love in one vow. For almost a thousand years, the vow for this self-donation-in- love was "ongoing conversion of life." This vow was a deepening of the first call to conversion, baptism. .Religious life has always been influenced by developments in the world community. By the high Middle Ages, the centuries-old practice of special dedication to God as hermits or cenobites was being carefully studied by Scholastic theologians. They focused especially on three principal practices that had long been identified with that special dedication: celibacy or chastity, poverty or unpossessiveness, and obedience or consciously seeking God's will in one's life. Some of this study went into much detail, sometimes enough to distract people from the original intent of their dedication, namely, seeking God exclusively or following Christ closely. Consecrated life itself came to be thought of and ceremonialized as the life of the (three) vows. For almost eight hundred years now, most orders and congregations have expressed their consecration in terms of those vows. In the early history of Review for Religious the Sisters of Mercy, a fourth vow, service, was included--a vow to care for the poor, the sick, and the uneducated. Similar modifications have occurred in other congregations. Over time the idea of the ongoing conversion of life was lost in some communities of religious life. Or was it? Ongoing Conversion Religious life is an ongoing drama of individual and communal experiences of conversion. Most religious have had numerous experiences summoning them to conversion. They have known the limitations and graces of ministry, personal prayer, friendships, deaths in families and communities, political struggles, retreat experiences, natural disasters, personal and community griefs and joys. In communal conversion they have known the power of the whole gracing them with more ene.rgy than any individual could have imagined. They have experienced a call to a deeper awareness of the connection between Christ and the cosmos. They have known chapters calling for renewed faith in the paschal mystery. They have experienced charisma and resistance in this continuing mystery. Each event summons a response to new life. The life, death, and resurrection moments of our lives continue to reveal the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ. An early example of my particular experience of this mystery was the use of the word justice in our community. It was quite a political term in the 1960s and early 1970s; born of revolutionary stands, it was quite controversial. At a 1975 prechapter meeting, a vote was taken on the issue. By the grace of God, the acceptance of justice as a topic slipped through by a narrow margin. It was a resurrection moment: the chapter document was ritled "Mercy Looks at Justice." More than twenty-five years later, we gathered to reimagine a new justice structure. It is clear now that justice is not a peripheral issue, but rather the heart of the matter for us. Justice is the very term for the slow, developmental process of conversion in our life of faith. The paschal mystery is interwoven with the conversion of the community. Our current chapter is calling us, as women of the church, to ongoing conversion at the very roots of the spirituality of .~anuary-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion religious life. We are called to our own conversion as we face the concerns of the earth: multiculturalism, racism, solidarity with the poor. This call comes from no other source but the Source of life, of wisdom, of sophia. Our response connects us with all the religious figures who have gone before us; through them we seek courage and grace. The Spirit of God desires integrity of word and deed even more than we do. We are called and graced--and we are limited by our own weakness--to renew the very structures of our community with the wisdom of justice. Conversion is initiated by God and given as gift. A gift presumes a giver, and for persons of faith the giver is ultimately God. The initiative, the invitation, the summons to conversion is with God. Simply stated, conversion is the movement away from evil and toward good or from one good to a greater good. We trust that through discernment we will learn how to move away from such evils as racism and consumerism and grow in appreciation of all creation and of other cultures, grow in compassionate and just relationships in society and with creation. Three images found in theologies of conversion are helpful when reflecting on a desire for conversion: conversion as God's flooding of hearts through the Holy Spirit, conversion as the awakening of the gifts of the Spirit, and conversion as the loving, compassionate life of Jesus. All three images lead to radical religious conversion of Christian conscience, which ultimately leads us to the loving compassion of the life of Jesus. 44 God Flooding Our Hearts Bernard Lonergan uses the image of God's love flooding our hearts through the Holy Spirit given us in Christ (Rm 5:5).7 He considers conversion as the heart of the Christian life. Conversion, through the work of the Spirit, enables persons to make new judgments and decisions and to .move beyond established horizons into new horizons of knowing, valuing, and acting. Conversion transforms and affects all relationships. "It is not merely a change or even a development; rather, it is a radical transformation on which follows, on all levels of living,~ an interlocked series of changes and developments. What hitherto was unnoticed becomes vivid and present. What had been of no concern is a matter of high import. So great a change in one's Review for Religious apprehensions and one's values accompanies no less a change in oneself, in one's relations to other persons, and in one's relations to God." 8 These changes can be dramatic or slow, intimate but never solitary, concrete and communal, dynamic and ongoing.9 This is consistent with our experience as a community of faith and of the reflections of many of the people encountered in ministry. Conversion "can happen to many, and they can form a community to sustain one another in their self-transformation, [to] help one another in working out the implications and in fulfilling the promise of their new life. Finally, what can become communal can become historical. It can pass from gen-eration to generation. It can pass from one cultural milieu to another. It can adapt to changing new situations, survive into a different age, flourish in another period or epoch." 10 This conviction about conversion engenders hope in current experiences of communal conversion--as a community, among our associates, and with our collaborators. We trust that this grace influences all those in relationship with us from one generation to another. Conversion is initiated by God and given as gift. Awakening to God The second image of conversion is the awakening of gifts of the Spirit that challenge relationships to be mutual and courageous. Awakening is the empowerment of the Spirit of Wisdom. Sophia releases the capabilities of giftedness in the individual and in the communal experience of conversion. Elizabeth Johnson places empowerment and relationships central to her understanding of conversion: "A permanent process of both turning away and turning inward--turning away from all that intellectually, morally, and spiritually keeps one mired in abusive relationships characterized by domination, inti~nidation, fear, or dishonesty and turning toward the unlimited grace of God ever calling us to relationships characterized by mutuality, respect, courage, and truthfulness." ~ January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion In this image, conversion is empowerment and affirmation of one's strength and responsibility. It is rooted in women's experience of an excess of self-denial in following the call to conversion. Conversion is the movement toward the discovery and appropriation of the potential gifts within an individual, group, or society. As women of the church, we are summoned to discover the gifts necessary to be converted in solidarity with the poor, to value multiculturalism, to eliminate racism, and to act in harmony with all of creation. Our summons is a word of God calling us to appropriate our gifts in the name of Christ for the sake of the reign of God. The Loving, Compassionate Life of Jesus From the conversion experience of Thomas Merton, it is clear that Christian conversion reorients a person's whole life to the truth, value, love, and experience of God as brought to us in Christ. The fruit of conversion in the life of Merton was a transformation of conscience to loving compassion. As Walter Conn says, "the personal measure of Christian living, therefore, is the conscience which has experienced a Christian conversion at once cognitive, affective, moral, and religious. Only a person thus converted is fully and concretely sensitive to the loving life of Jesus. In Merton's life we discovered again the fundamental gospel truth that lies at the heart of Christian tradition: The radical religious conversion of Christian conscience finds its fullest realization in loving compassion--the self-transcending perfection of human empathy and justice. In its total surrender such religious conversion radically relativizes the moral autonomy of Christian conscience." 12 As followers of the gospel, we are summoned to a life of self-transcendence lived in a life of empathy and justice. In the life of Merton, we see that contemplation liberates the conscience for conversibn. Self-transcending love is found to be at the heart of the holistic development of the converted Christian. The fruit of conversion is compassion born of reflection on the life of Jesus. In community we hear of many who are willing to surrender to the needs of the others and thus be a part of the struggle for world freedom. The mystery of Christ is seen through contemplation of suffering and through reflection on the cross Review for Religious and the resurrection of Christ. Though we retain the freedom to refuse God's summons, any movement toward conversion is already the movement of God's grace within us. As I listen to stories in ministry, I frequently hear of how people are changed through events not of their own making, through persons and situations that were beyond their control. Conversion is grace. Conversion as Grace In Sacred Scripture we see grace offered in the prophetic calls to repentance and intimate love. John the Baptist made such calls, and, of course, Jesus did too. In Mark the first words of Jesus are a proclamation of the good news and a call to conversion: "The time is fulfilled and the reign of God has come near. Be converted and believe in the good news" (Mk 1:15). Matthew speaks of "seeking" God, or the reign of God, as the beginning of conversion. Jesus may have sought this experience at his baptism: "Jesus was not renouncing his sinfulness, but was taking his place with all those in. Israel who were saying: 'We are ready, Lord; please make this the moment of your Messianic salvation.'" ,3 In this, Jesus may have been responding to a call to a kind of conversion: "Jesus' experience at his baptism, so far as it can be recovered from the gospel records, seems in many respects akin to the effects of a sudden conversion. There was a sudden and intense personal experience of God. There was a new awareness of personal status with God, a call to a new way of life and acceptance of that call. There was, in fact, a reorientation of his whole personality.''14 Such an experience of God can have a transforming effect on a person's life.'5 While contemplating his baptism, Jesus heard the Spirit of God assuring him, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with whom I am well pleased" (Lk 3:22). Through this prayer, Jesus experienced an unconditional acceptance of God. Grounded in this religious experience, Jesus reorganized his life for the sake of Matthew speaks of "seeking" God, or the reign of God, as the beginning of conversion. January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion the .reign of God. He moved from one way of living to another: "He gave up an earlier aiad long-standing way of life as no longer satisfactory, in order to take~ up a new and perilous way of life that now seemed to him imperative.''16 Through the conversion at his baptismal experience, Jesus turned to his mission of public ministry by affirming the reign of God. Elaine Wainwright notes that the reign of God is "the just and righteous purpose of God for all humanity.''~7 She says that after his baptism Jesus continued the mission of announcing this vision of God, which entails hearing, understanding, and doing God's word (Mr 13:23). Jesus enfleshed this vision in his compassionate encounters with those considered least (Mt 25:40).18 Called to a prophetic role, Jesus proclaimed a confidence in God's activity and lived within the reign of God. Jon Sobrino describes his acts and gestures: "His most fundamental gesture is taking sides with human beings in a concrete situation where the existing political religious structure has dehumanized people . Jesus does all he can to concretize and make present real love as the quintessence of the kingdom." 19 The story of the Canaanite woman illustrates a conversion in Jesus' public ministry (Mt 15:21-28). This woman is an ethnic and religious outsider in Israel. She pleads with Jesus for mercy for herself and healing for her daughter. At first Jesus does not respond to her; he understands his mission to be to the Israelites. The disciples, lacking understanding and compassion, want Jesus to get rid of her. Persistent, she continues to appeal to Jesus for help. As he listens to her, he is moved to enter into deeper discussion and uses a familiar parable to oppose her request. He refuses her plea for help with the image of the family's bread not being meant for dogs. Picking up on the image, the woman asks for crumbs from the master's table, thus boldly claiming a share in the reign of God that Jesus proclaims. Jesus is moved by her faith and expands the boundaries of his ministry to include the Gentiles. And so it is that Jesus, through dialogue with an outsider and a woman, sees his God-given mission changed to a greater inclusiveness. This decision of compassionate love comes from a summons through relationship. God is revealed through-others. In relationships we know and experience God. In his relationship with the Canaanite woman, we see Jesus Review for Religious emotionally engaging the spirit of the woman as she challenges his position. He realizes that he has to be responsible to this new interpersonal relationship. His decision is a moral choice within a sociopolitical and religious setting. His discernment is based on a wider understanding of the reign of God. This story gives evidence that even Jesus had a kind of conversion upon receiving a word-of-God summons through someone else's plea for mercy. The Principle of Conversion When we engage in a life of merciful love, when we place ourselves in situations where we work for and develop relationships with others, such relationships begin to include compassion. As this compassion deepens, it leads us to a greater justice. When systems and strategies meet an impasse, we are led into the deeper mystery of Christian love. Conversion to mercy is not primarily about doing specific works. It is an attitude, a horizon of being, or what Jon Sobrino calls a principle. The "principle of mercy is a fundamental attitude at the root of every human interaction," which then "affects all subsequent interactions." The principle of mercy "becomes justice" by engaging all levels of energy: intellectual, religious, scientific, and technological.2° Mercy animates a conversion that leads to changes in relationships, changes in thinking, acting, and believing. Sobrino learned an amazing truth through the martyrdom of his brother Jesuits and the women who worked with them. He now believes that nothing is as "vital in order to live as a human being than to exercise mercy on behalf of cn~cified people, and that nothing is more humanizing than to believe in the God of Jesus.''21 The exercise of mercy becomes a quality of being in all who engage in merciful justice. In discerning mercy as justice, we are summoned to share in the life of the Word of God, to fall in love, and, through ongoing Christian conversion, to live forever. Notes Gage Canadian Dictionary (Toronto: Gage Publishing Co., 1983). Karl Rahner, Foundations, trans. William V. Dych (New York: Seabury Press, 1978), p. 127. January-February 2002 McAl~in ¯ Conversion 3 Karl Rahner, Nature and Grace (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), pp. 24-26. 4 Attributed to Pedro Arrupe, superior general of the Jesuits from 1965-1983. s Attributed to Pedro Arrupe. 6 Sandra M. Schneiders, Finding the Treasure (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 37-39. 7 Bernard J.E Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971), p. 105. 8 Walter E. Conn, Conversion: Perspectives on Personal and Social Transformation (New York: Alba House, 1978), p. 13. 9 Conn, Conversion, p. 45. 10 Conn, Conversion, p. 45. 11 Elizabeth Johnson, She l.Vho Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1993), p. 64. 12 Walter E. Conn, Christian Conversion: A Developmental Interpretation of Autonomy and Surrender (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), p. 268. 13 Demetrius Dumm, Flowers in the Desert: A Spirituality of the Bible (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), p. 28. ~4 Donald Gray, "Was Jesus a Convert?" Religion in Life 43 (Winter 1974), citing Hugh Montefiore, Awkward Questions on Christian Love (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1964), p. 449. ,s Conn, Conversion, p. 215. 16 Gray, "Was Jesus a Convert?". p. 449. ,7 Elaine Wainwright, "The Gospel of Matthew," in Elizabeth Schiissler Fiorenza, ed., Searching the Scriptures: A Feminist Commentary (New York: Crossroad, 1994), p. 636. ~8 Ibid, p. 637. 19jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads (New York: Orbis Books, 1978), p. 92. 20 Donald L. Gelpi SJ, The Turn to Experience in Contentporary Theology (New York: Paulist Press, 1994), p. 134. 21 Jon Sobrino, The Principle of Mercy: Taking the Crucified People from the Cross (New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 10. Review for Religious STEVE WLUSEK Seminary Formation and Lonergan's Conversion Theory i~arpe~P diem! Seize the day! Make your lives something ~ remarkable!" With these words Robin Williams's char-acter in the movie Dead Poets' Society begins to inspire his students not to just go through the paces of the educational system, but to make something of their time in school and of their very lives. He evokes their conversion from apathetic docil-ity to active participation in their own education. At turning points such as this, people begin to discover their own identity and mission. Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions can illu-minate such personal development, anyone's, but here my focus is on seminary formation. Lonergan identifies four main conversions in life: moral, affec-five, critical moral, and religious.1 Each of these conversions opens people to a deeper awareness of their true self and brings about greater self-transcendence, allowing true relationships to develop with other people and especially with God. Lonergan bases his theory of conversions on the concept that everyone is self-cen-tered to some degree and that everyone's growth must begin from that point.2 From my perspective of ministering to many people in both parish and seminary, I have seen a number of degrees of self-centeredness. Steve Wlusek, a diocesan priest, is a faculty member of his diocese's St. Peter's Seminary; 1040 Waterloo Street; London, Ontario; N6A 3Y1 Canada. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation A brief description of these conversions of Lonergan's will, I think, elucidate the validity of his theory for the ministry of seminary formation. Lonergan defines conversion as a fateful call to a dreaded holiness, an about-face by which we move into a radically new horizon, a personal entrance of God into our life and history, a communication of God to us.3 A person's con-version does not just happen; rather, it is a fundamental choice: "Conversion is a change of direction and, indeed, a change for the better. One frees oneself from the unauthentic. Harmful, dangerous, misleading satisfactions are dropped. Values are apprehended where before they were overlooked. Scales of pref-erence shift."4 Moral conversion is "choosing value as the criterion of one's life.''s In undergoing this form of conversion, one realizes that there is more than oneself that needs to be protected and respected. One's sensitivity is changed from wanting one's own life to be fair, to wanting justice for others and realizing that one has an obligation to work toward providing that justice. Moral conversion, therefore, is an impetus to move outside of oneself, which stretches that self to becoming other-conscious. Lonergan likens affective conversion to falling in love. Whereas moral con-version moves a person to be concerned for the well-being of others, affective conversion arouses one to be so moved regard-ing the other's well-being that one's entire orientation shifts to a concern which is expressed in action. Affective conversion involves not only the possibility of committing oneself to a course of active servi~e of another, but also the ability to execute that decision over the long haul.6 Lonergan identifies critical moral conversion as changing one's standard for personal orientation. Those who undergo this conversion come to a healthy sense of the sacred within themselves. They do not need to look somewhere else beyond themselves to discover what is real or valuable; they accept the validity of their own judgment. During the gradual process of their personal development and their prudently increasing autonomy, they reach a crucial point. They discover that their own judging and deciding affect them no less than the objects of their judgments and decisions. They realize that they are respon-sible for what they make of themselves, and that their choices are crucial in the process of becoming authentic persons.7 Review for Religious Through religious conversion, one falls in love with God and surrenders oneself completely to God. This conversion moves one to live with this attitude: "Whatever you want for me, God, I want it too." Lonergan portrays the one who has been trans-formed through this religious conversion as being "a subject in love, a subject held, grasped, possessed, owned through a total and so an other-worldly love.''8 Religious conversion creates a basic consciousness that enables one to appreciate all as gift from God. This consciousness impacts how one views oneself, one's situation, and one's role in the human condition.9 In mov-ing out of oneself to embrace God in religious conversion, then, one also lovingly em-braces other people, sensing their Beloved dwelling therein. Lonergan's theory of con-versions can have constantly renewed application, for the Christian life is one of ongoing conversion, with people's lives seldom following his theory once and for all, neatly, step-by-step. Ongoing conversions, relevant as they are for people in general, are relevant also for seminar-ians and those who assist in their discernments on their path toward the priesthood. Using composite portraits of three sem-inarians, I hope to show how Lonergan's theory may be of help. The first of these three, John, had a sense of conversion at around the age of twelve. He had for several years been a server at parish Masses and had a deep admiration for his parish priest. John saw in him a man of Eindness and deep faith and love for God. As John served at the altar with this priest, and watched him minister, he came to a growing awareness that he wanted to be a priest just like his pastor, dedicating his life to serving God. His parents were eager about the prospect of their son becom-ing a priest. John entered the minor seminary at age thirteen. John has completed his college studies and is now studying the-ology in the major seminary. Although John is ardent in his prayer and during liturgies, he seems deficient in some of his relationships. He comes late for class and other formation group Lonergan identifies critical moral conversion as changing one's standard for personal orientation. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation events, and he shows little respect for his peers. He and a friend from his hometown talk exclusively to each other at meals, ignoring the other seminarians nearby. Lonergan's theory reveals that John may have experienced a moral conversion, which set him on the path to serving God as a priest, but he still seems to need an affective conversion so as to have much more respect and compassion for others. Peter, another seminarian, was very much involved in his parish before entering the seminary. He experienced conver-sion through youth retreat weekends, which seemed to change his life. Since these weekends, he has served in many ways through his parish youth ministry: visiting nursing homes, vol-unteering at a soup kitchen, and packing boxes in his local food bank. In his seminary activities he does tremendous service at his field-education placement. His supervisor reports that he is looked up to by everyone at the center and that the physically challenged people he works with look forward to his visits with them. Although all of this is true and highly commendable, Peter's behavior in the seminary community is less than could be desired. He forgets his duties to read or serve at Eucharist, he gives people who disagree with him the silent treatment, and he snubs those who are not in his select group of friends. Peter seems to have undergone moral and affective conversions: he has been moved to work for the care of others and for justice towards them. Peter, however, has compartmentalized this awareness; it pertains only to those outside his immediate com-munity. He is eager to go out of the building to do outreach, yet he fails to recognize opportunities for outreach right in the hall-way where he lives. The third seminarian, Mark, entered the seminary after graduating from university and working in a respected career for several years. While engaged in this career, which involved help-ing others, he came to a realization that what he was doing was not enough. Even though he was helping pgople, he felt he could help them only materially. He came to understand deeply that God was calling him to use his intelligence and ability to help people not only materially but spiritually. Currently, in the seminary, Mark quietly serves others and looks after the needs of sick seminarians and those overly stressed by their studies. He does so in a quiet manner, seeking no recognition or praise. He Review for Religious goes to his parish field-education placement eagerly, seeing an opportunity for the kind of service to which he feels God is calling him. While others complain around the meal table about the food or about the workload they are under, never is "heard a discouraging word" from Mark. He has lived on his own and has done plenty of work in his former career. In the chapel he is often found in prayer or reading books from the spiritual masters. Mark is a man of self-assuredness, maturity, and desire for God. He seems to have undergone moral, affective, and crit-ical- moral conversions. I believe that Mark and the other semi-narians mentioned have experienced different degrees of religious conversion as well. All of them, however, still need further growth toward a complete yes to God (as we all do). Understanding the level to which seminarians have under-gone these conversions is crucial in the role of seminary for-mation. Part of the role of seminary formators is to discern, with other faculty members, candidates' readiness to progress further in the formation program. Lonergan's theory of con-versions can help tremendously in this work. Awareness is the first step towards action. By being more aware of the levels of seminarians' conversion, we will be able to identify areas in which we can help them grow. The saying that "faith is caught and not taught" is good to remember when reflecting on our seminarians' conversions. It is not simply the teaching of the-ology that will evoke a personal about-face. We need to foster various circumstances wherein conversion may be experienced: in supportive and nurturing encounters of spiritual direction, in open and mutually respectful formation-group dialogues, in teaching filled with dynamism and conviction, in field education and theological reflection which help students reflect on the needs of people in their community, in experiences of working with the poor, and in celebrations of liturgies that are inspiring and affectively moving. The teacher in Dead Poets' Society took seriously his respon-sibility to motivate his students to make their lives remarkable. Through the insight gained from Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions, we can appre.ciate in a new way our role in priestly formation to discern the status of candidates' conversion life and to present them with opportunities for deeper conver-sion, so they can make of their lives what they were made for. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation Through these experiences of faith, nurture, and co~nmunity, seminarians will be able not only to come to deeper conver-sion, but to embrace more fully their true identities in union with God. Notes 1 Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990), p. 238. 2 Walter E. Conn, The Desiring Self(New York: Paulist Press, 1998), p. 67. 3 Lonergan, p. 113. 4 Lonergan, p. 52. s Conn, p. 118. 6 Conn, p. 121. 7 Mary Kay Kinberger MSC, Lonergan on Conversion: Applications for Religious Formation (New York: Peter Lang, 1992), p. 38. 8 Lonergan, p. 240. 9 Kinberger, p. 46. January January blizzards on the heels of Christmas. Winter grips the snow-encrusted land with the iron determination Grandma whipped egg whites into stiff miniature Alpine peaks. The time of rushing has passed. No birds sing joyously. Nor do dogs bark with gusto. Last year's wild roses have long gone into seed. It is a season for me to listen: maybe to a heartbeat, an old man fingering his worn beads. Or, in my moments of stillness, hear the whisper of the Epiphany Child inviting me go out into the cold and visit those who are old, grieving, sick, and forgotten. Richard Heatley Review for Religious PATRICIA ANN LAMOUREUX AND PAUL ZILONKA The Workers in the Vineyard: Insights for the Moral Life Bracelets with the letters WWJD are popular these days. They are meant to remind the wearer and others to keep asking What Would Jesus Do? This practice assumes that we can fairly quickly see or reason to what Jesus would do in response to the moral dilemmas of life in 2 lst-century America. It ought not surprise us that these bracelets are promoted more by evangelical groups than by those who take more seriously the challenge of modern biblical exegesis and hermeneutics. In light of the Second Vatican Council's call to develop moral theology in accordance with the biblical vision, Catholic moral theologians have given the relationship of Scripture and ethics increased scholarly attention.1 Increased knowledge, however, has led to greater appreciation for the complexity of the task. Although constructive proposals for relating Scripture and ethics are still only being tested, many people nowadays are better prepared to avoid facile answers and improve inadequate ones. In this essay we try to discern ethical implications of the parable about the workers in the vineyard (Mt moral insight Patricia Ann Lamoureux teaches moral theology and Paul Zilonka CP teaches Scripture at St. Mary's Seminary and University; 5400 Roland Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. ~tanuary-February 2002 Lamoureux and Zilonka ¯ The Workers in the Vineyard In Galilee at that time, there were three types of relationship pertaining to work: patronage, exploitation, or cooperation. 20:1-16). The story disconcerts many people's sense of jusfce. We undertake this task with recognition of the danger of selecting one text from "a rich symphony of literary forms . . composed of a chorus of voices speaking out of a variety of historical and cultural contexts and a number of theological perspectives and addressing a broad spectrum of moral questions.''2 While focusing on the vineyard parable, we are not attempting to reduce this "rich orchestration" to a "simple melody line.''3 Nor are we suggesting that this story somehow contains all that Scripture has to say about morality in general or justice in particular. We approach the parable in three steps: (1) investigating the original set-ting and meaning of the parable (the exegetical task); (2) assessing how to appropriately employ this parable within the various levels of moral reflection (the methodological task); (3) interpreting the meaning of the parable for our contemporary situation (hermeneutical task).4 Let us begin with the parable: For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o'clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, "You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is just." So they went off. When he went out again about noon and about three o'clock, he did the same. And about five o'clock he went out and found others standing around, and he said to them, "Why are you standing here idle all day?" They said to him, "Because no one has hired us." He said to them, "You also go into my vineyard." When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, "Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first." When those hired about five o'clock Review for Religious came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, "These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat." But he replied to one of them, "Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous? So the last will be first, and the first will be last." (Mt 20:1-16) Exegetical Task In this section we explore what the parable meant to the people who first heard or read it. It is possible and even likely that Jesus' original audience, and Matthew's community too, included people of the social class of the vineyard .owner (landholders, merchants, entrepreneurs) as well as employed and unemployed workers. In lst-century Galilee, harvest time in a vineyard was fraught with tension. When the crop was ready, there could be no delay. All hands were needed to bring in the fruit at the peak of maturity. Also, the condition of day labor in the Hellenistic-Roman world was dreadful. The employer of the ancient world was master of his money; he could do with it as he chose. Commonly, employers looked in the marketplace of the city for unemployed men hoping to be hired. The agreement with those called at dawn was for "the usual daily wage" in that agrarian context. These men worked for whatever the employer was willing to pay, usually subsistence wages at the lowest level for a day's work. As the day went on, more laborers were needed. Thus we can understand the repeated excursions of the owner of the vineyard back to the town square seeking extra workers, even as the day waned. These others were promised what was "just," but the amount remained unspecified.5 In Galilee at that time, there were three types of relationship pertaining to work: patronage, exploitation, or cooperation. The January-February 2002 Lamoureux and Zilonka ¯ The Workers in the Vineyard latter would seem to explain the parable in regard to the workers of the first hour and those of the subsequent hours too. They agree to cooperate in doing the work for a stipulated amount, "the daily wage" for the first group and "what is just" for the latter groups. They are day workers rather than those enjoying the pati'onage relationship, which has a more permanent quality. Nor are they being exploited as slaves.6 Yet they grumble when workers hired at the 'end of the day receive the full daily wage. Over the years many people have been upset by the logic of the landowner, startled by what seems to be his "unbusinesslike" behavior. Those hired in the last moments of the workday could hardly have hoped for more than a small fraction of what the first would receive. After all, they had worked so little. The vineyard owner's payments take

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

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X GETTYSBURG, PA., MAY, 1901 No. 3 TABLE OF CONTENTS The Social Qualities of Robert Burns as Manifested in His Poems, 70 The Cultivation of Patriotism, . 77 Superlatives, . 80 Perseverance, . 82 A Dutch Schoolmaster's Adventure, . . . . .84 Editorials, . 88 An Old Reader, . 90 Pictures, . 91 Spontaneity in Literature, . . . . . .93 In Nature's Realm, . 96 A Country Barn on a Rainy Day, . . - . 97 All Souls Day, . 98 Exchanges, . 100 Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing! Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long. -Milton. Through wood, and stream, and field, and hill, and Ocean, A quickening life from the Earth's heart has burst As it has ever done, with change and motion, Prom the great morning of the world when first God dawned on Chaos; in its stream immersed The lamps of heaven flash with a softer light; All baser things pant with life's sacred thirst; Diffuse themselves; and spend in love's delight The beauty and the joy of their renewed might. -Shelley. 70 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY THE SOCIAL QUALITIES Of ROBERT BURNS AS MANIFESTED IN MIS POEMS D. C. BURNITE, '01 [Graeff Prize Essay] A CAREFUL comparison of the lives of poets, with their pro- ■*"*• auctions, discloses this fact, that almost universally there exists more or less inconsistency betiveen their true characters and the characters which their poems would lead us to believe they really possessed. In some cases the former belie the latter completely. In others, the works are in a large measure faithful transcripts of the men. Great uncertainty would attend an at-tempt to paint pictures of the natures of many poets were we to use as materials only the evidence drawn from their productions. Recurring bombast and affectation preclude any possibility of using their poems, with any great amount of reliability, as stand-ards by which to judge their real characters. Not so, however, with all poets. Here and there in the field of our inspection appears a bard, whose writings are a faithful reflection of his real nature. But before we can be sure that this is true of any poet, we must be certain that he is thoroughly sin-cere. So, before we can proceed to show that the qualities indi-cated in the poems of Burns are revelations of his actual personal characteristics, we must prove his sincerity. And we do this, not by a comparison of his verses with his biography, but by testi-mony drawn from the poems themselves, apart from all historical evidence. Men who talk much of themselves, as Burns does, are not gen-erally prone to admit their own shortcomings. But this poet, contrary to general practice, makes no attempt to present only the good side of his character. Frequently he gives us glimpses of his own weaknesses; not a shameless exhibition of guile, but always with expressions of sorrow and remorse. Never hidden, always open, he bares his whole heart, and shows himself as he is. He seems anxious to have us see him in a true light. How frankly and clearly he reveals his true self when he proposes "A Bard's Epitaph" for his own tomb. Read his condemnation of his own self: . THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 71 " Is there a man whose judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, "Wild as the wave; Here pause—and thro' the starting tear Survey this grave. " The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name !" Can we read this and believe that Burns was not sincere ? But there are other evidences of his genuineness. Affectation and sincerity are incompatible. But, no matter how closely we scrutinize his lines, we find no indications of the former in Burns' works He must have been a lover of the truth, for he never descends to the expression of feigned emotions. His pictures are real; all are undoubtedly the products of his own experience. Of his hundreds of poems, with one or two exceptions, none are the offspring of imagination. All he presents he himself has seen and felt. We see no indications of anything assumed about his addresses "To a Mouse" and "To a Mountain Daisy." Neither is there anything false or overdrawn in his descriptions. Per-fectly natural himself, he presents things as they are. Nothing could be written with much more fidelity to life than his "Cotter's Saturday Night." Without his characteristic straightforward-ness such complete depiction of Scottish peasant life would have been impossible. All his poems manifest in the man a spirit of genuineness and deep sincerity. With this conviction, then, that Burns wrote exactly as he saw, thought, and felt, we can be certain that the social qualities which his poems suggest are identical with those he really pos-sessed. Our investigation, then, involves an answer to the question, What social qualities do Burns' poems make us think he pos-sessed ? With this answered, we then know, with some measure of accuracy, what Burns himself was socially—what it was that, in all probability, must have rendered him an ever-welcome guest both in the humble homes of the Scottish peasantry and in the mansions of the gentry. But in order that we may be competent judges as to what features in his social nature were attractive and 72 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY what were not, we must make allowance for the differences in time, place, and circumstances, and view the matter, not from oicr point of view, but from the standpoint of his Scottish contempo-raries. Only then can we avoid the danger of an over or an under estimation of the man's social constitution. We have already spoken of what we regard as the crowning social virtue of any man—sincerity. "L,et a man but speak forth with genuine earnestness the thought, the emotion, the actual condition of his own heart, and other men must and will give heed to him."* Burns, as we have stated, does this. We here have a certain quality which would of itself draw men to its possessor. A writer whose poetic works are imbued throughout with the truth must himself have been sincere. Burns must have attracted his fellows because of this one social quality, if for nothing else. The whole world loves a patriot. Even those of other nations than his own admire him; but especially his own countrymen. Burns' poems indicate the presence of patriotism in the heart of their author. Compare his stanzas with those of former Scottish bards, and what do we find ? The subjects of their themes are foreign, and they even scout their own native dialect. The poeti-cal works of Burns are the initial achievement of a new era in his nation's literature. He is the first to give out a body of dis-tinctively Scottish poetry. He saw no need to step beyond the borders of his own laud for things of which to sing. He writes of things, not English, or Irish, or Continental, but of things Scottish—thoroughly so, from his country's ' 'braes'' to her moun-tains, from her field-mice to her horses, from her beggars to her kings, from her daisies to her trees, from her " burns" to her rivers; all of his own "bonnie laud." Nor does he hesitate to take the initiative of using the language of his fireside; not, however, because he was unable to write in pure English. Some of his poems show that he could. But he prefers his native tongue, and seems to delight in the use of its quaint expressions. He appears proud of his dialect, and all he describes with it. In almost every poem there breathes the true spirit of patriotism, a quality which we believe helped to make his society desirable. What Scotchman could have avoided a feeling of attraction to the "loyal native" who wrote such things * ♦Carlyle. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 73 .'* ' j as "My Heart's in the Highlands" or "Scots wha hae wi' Wal-lace bled?" Another social characteristic is revealed in his verses; a trait indispensable to gaining the good-will of the Scottish peasantry. How generously he applies himself to the faithful interpretation of the thoughts, feelings and manners of that class amongst whom he was reared ! His poetry teems with this natural sympathy for the lowly inhabitant of the thatched cottage. His were the first Scottish poems to show it, and from it we can be sure that the man himself thoroughly loved the humble people of whom he writes. How nobly he exalts their simple lot in the words he puts into the mouth of Luath, "the ploughman's collie" in "The Twa Dogs." In the "Cotter's Saturday Night" he brings to the notice of the humble bread-winners, not the ills, but the blessings of their toilsome lives. He would make them proud of their station and their labor. He appears at all points to have been a thorough democrat, and evidently was in close touch with the lives of the poorest people. It is such qualities as these that hold men in social esteem, with thehighas well as the low. A highly sympathetic nature was a social trait which undoubtedly helped to make Burns popular. Cheerfulness is a prime essential to social success. A glance convinces us that the man who wrote these poems surely had this attribute. Such a one must have cheered the lives and bright-ened the very faces of those with whom he came in contact. At every turn we meet his genial poetic laughter. And this, too, in the same poems in which he tells of his own misfortunes. To be happy in adversity; what an enviable trait! And if he could shake off his coil of pitiful thought and recognize the good things in his own life, he surely would shed some beams of happiness on the lives of those about him. All his songs attest this quality. "When at his best, you seem to hear the whole song warbling through his spirit, naturally as a bird's."* Note it in this stanza: "Ye banks land braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care?" A vein of humor makes its possessor welcome. "I,augh, and the world will laugh with you." Doubtless Burns' little world "Jeffrey. 74 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY enjoyed many a laugh with him. For some of his poems fairly bubble with humor. And the author of these must have exhibited a like trait when he spoke, as well as when he wrote. We realize this when we "Remember Tarn O'Shauter's Mare;" or read the following from "Death and Dr. Hornbook": "The Clachan yill had made me canty, I was nae fou, but just had plenty; I stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent ay To free the ditches; An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, kenn'd ay Frae ghaists and witches. "The rising- moon began to glow'r The distant Cumuock hills out owre; To count her horns wi' a' my pow'r, I set mysel'; But whether she had three or four, I could na tell." These and many other poems, manifest in Burns himself a spirit of jocularity which, we believe, heightened the attractive-ness of his nature wherever he went. That a man was a friend of "John Barleycorn" was no social defect in Burns' day. And he'seems, from his poems, to have been a participant in "those convivial enjoyments which were not only counted excusable by the temper of the time, but gloried in by all whose heads were strong enough to indulge in them without ruin."* In fact, as a "total, abstainer" Burns' social career would likely have been curtailed. It is perfectly natural, therefore, that he gives drink and drinking a very prominent place in his verses. And the fact that he does so leads us to conclude that he was a not infrequent participant in the then prevalent jolly tavern carouses. Many evidences in his poems manifest his inclination toward convivial enjoyments of a more healthy character. He seems to have had a fondness for other gatherings than those where the consumption of "usquebae" was the central feature. We refer to such social functions as he speaks of in his "Hallow E'en." He evinces perfect familiarity with the jolly practices of that mysterious night, as he describes the mirthful sports of the country "lads and lasses." In fact, his frequent description of J *Blackwood'6. Feb., 1872. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 75 such scenes convinces us that he must have been an important member of the peasant society of his locality. But we see evidences that he would also make a valuable ad-dition to a higher plane of society than that of his own country-side. The mere fact that he was able to produce such remarkable verses is enough to show that he was fitted to move on a higher level than that of the peasant class. We can treat only briefly of a few of the many manifest traits which, besides those already cited, would make him a social attraction in the hall as well as in the hut. It is hard to prove conclusively from his poems that Burns was a good conversationalist. But we think there are indications that warrant us in believing that he was. The ease with which we understand the thoughts he wishes to convey in his lines, i. e., his extreme simplicity, together with his vivacity of expression and his powers of vivid description, lead us to think that he was a good talker. Nor would such a writer be at a loss for topics for conversation. He seems perfectly familiar with the full details of an immense variety of topics. Burns undoubtedly was at perfect ease in conversation. A keen insight into human nature, as we see it in his verses, would enable him to throw himself quickly into close sympathy with new associates; an almost invaluable social quality. His oft-appearing spirit of independence would gain him respect. The thoughtful tenderness he exhibits, not only for his fellow-men, but for beasts and flowers, too, suggests a feature in his nature which would draw men to him. Thus we see in his poetry, char-acteristics which would make his company acceptable to those of high rank. Of Burns' actual social successes in a certain direction, we have positive evidence. The great majority of his poems are con-cerning women with whom he has been in love, or at least ad-mired greatly. And we can easily see that, if not as a lover, at least as an admirer, he was accepted in .some cases. At any rate, we can judge from these poems that he had sufficient attractions to make him acceptable among the lasses of his native land. This gives us a clue, though an uncertain one, to his personal appear-ance and manners. To have been admired by so many women, he must have been to some degree attractive in looks and move-ments. 76 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURi Thus far we have considered only those things in Burns for which he was undoubtedly admired. But he shows traits that we cannot believe were acceptable to all of his contemporaries, for he refers in different passages to the fact that he had enemies. Certainly there were some who did not admire all he did; but just as we are limited in giving all his good qualities, by the fact that he does not make manifest in his poems all the traits he really pos-sessed, so are we limited, but to a greater degree, in observing all his bad qualities; for though he constantly confesses that he had monstrous faults, he has not specified what the particular immor-alities were that he committed, and we cannot know all these without referring to his biography. However, he does exhibit definitely some traits which, we believe, would be hindrances to his free movement among all classes of society. Profanity may have been attractive to his tavern associates, but must have been a shock to the strict piety which we know prevailed in his community. Reference to "Holy Willie's Prayer" manifests a spirit approaching blasphemy, an indication that the poet himself was probably not averse to the use of strong expressions by word of mouth, as well as pen. As a sincere man, Burns was a hater of hypocrisy, upon which subject he wrote several poems. But this feeling leads him into a fault. The satires he has written against hypocrites are too bitter to be commended. Were we to see only those works, we would have little desire to meet their writer. The acrimony of his invective seems unreasonable and repulsive, rather than at-tractive. We have mentioned Burns' drinking habits; but though we have no direct testimony in his poems that he himself was over indulgent, yet some of the scenes he depicts make clear that he must have been present at them, or he could not have described them so well. He at least practically confesses that he frequented places and associated with persons of low repute. Whether it is likely that he indulged in the orgies he describes, the reader can judge from the evidence. Such tendencies as these thus indi-cated certainly did not at that time constitute admirable social qualities. That Burns was positively vulgar, we must admit. A look into certain of his poems, which we do not deem fit to make more public by quoting them here, will convince us of this. It is seen, THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 77 for instance, in certain lines of ' 'The Kirk's Alarm.'' A betrayal of such lack of decency, in the eyes of some, would seriously affect his social character. Though to many persons the absence of Christian qualities in a man would be no social objection, yet we must be of the opinion that Burns' great lack in this regard would form a barrier to his entrance into close acquaintance with many persons at his time. We are sorry to admit that such a genius, in all his works, shows no spirit of true devotion to his Creator and His Son. Probably a closer inspection of Burns' lines would manifest more qualities wherein he would be attractive or not; but we think we have drawn from his poems enough of both kinds to indicate whether or not he deserved to be popular. It is our decision that his good far outweigh his bad social qualities. We believe that were Burns' biography to be forever lost, with noth-ing but his poems for grounds from which to reason, the world today, were he to come back again, would greet him—just as Scotland would have done immediately after his death—with open arms. And we would welcome him, if for nothing else, because of his social qualities as manifested in his poems. THE CULTIVATION OP PATRIOTISM FRANK LBNKER, '03 HPO have a thorough understanding of the subject one must ^ necessarily have a full and true conception of the meaning of the word patriotism. Patriotism is—" L,ove and devotion to one's country, the spirit that originating in love of country prompts to obedience to its laws, to the support and defense of its exist-ence, rights and institutions and to the promotion of its welfare." From the definition of the word it is readily seen that without patriotism no good government can exist and by as much as the people of a nation are patriotic or unpatriotic, by so much that nation will be either pre-eminent or debased in the galaxy of nations. Patriotism is of different kinds. It is patriotism that leads a man to shoulder his musket and amid storms of applause and the entrancing strains of his national air to dare to fight for his country's honor. It is still greater patriotism that enables him to endure 78 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY the privations and hardships of a severe campaign and which enables him, when some very daring service is required, willingly to lay down his life. It is patriotism that a man displays when for a season he leaves the pleasures of his home, neglects his business and exposes himself to the censure of those opposed to him, to become a voice of the people in the nation's council. But only the true statesman, the man who stands for right and principle against personal interests, displays this patriotism. Then, too, anyone may be a true patriot. He need not be a soldier, he need not be a statesman, but one thing Me must be—a man—a man true and firm, a man of high principle and lofty sent-iments and above all he must dare to stand by the right. If each one should place his country's welfare above his struggle for per-sonal gain and aggrandizement, what a powerful nation such men would constitute. It is acknowledged that there is no power equal to the mother's in shaping the characters and disposition of the young. If the solemn duties and obligations of motherhood could but be more strongly intrenched in the minds of those who have assumed the positions of wives and mothers, patriotism would surely become a more self-sacrificing and deep-seated kind. Mothers should endeavor to bring their children up to maturity even-minded and devoted to their country and to their God. Early in life children should be taught to reverence the starry ensign—the symbol of their freedom, to respect the nation's laws —safeguards of their liberty, and above all to know our history. Let them know how the nation was established on a foundation of right, cemented with the blood of some of the noblest men who ever lived. Let them know how, when the nation was in its in-fancy, our statesmen studied and planned so that laws tending only to progress might be promulgated. Let them know how gallantly our warriors punished England's insult to that banner, which so long as the true American spirit prevails will tell of the freedom of our nation and assure every American citizen protec-tion abroad or a speedy vengeance if molested. It should not be forgotten to tell them of the Civil War which for a time threatened to disrupt the Union. Tell them how the North was arrayed against the South and how bravely brother engaged brother to the death. But most emphatically tell them that each fought for principle. They fought not concerning petty THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 79 matters but rather concerning deep-rooted belief that each was right. Then review how at first there seemed to be bitter feeling, then gradually take them through the intervening space of time and at last show them how gloriously a united, a thoroughly . united and closely associated baud of men, representing the North, South, East and West, defeated the cruel Spaniards on San Juan hill. Our young should also be led to hate the greatest curse of the nation, they should be taught to abhor the greatest enemy of true manhood and upright living—the moral-debasing and character-weakening rum. Can a drunkard be a true patriot? No, most decidedly not. For how can a man who weakens himself morally, physically and mentally by using the vile stuff offer his ablest and best services to his country either as a statesman, a soldier, or as an exemplary private citizen. Double-dealing, rottenness and corporation influence in politics is another great evil and the one which probably above all others might possibly cause the downfall of these United States. Oh, would that some of our statesmen were more honorable men, would that they were more stalwart warriors in the defense of right and more zealous to forward measures drawn up for the public good rather than for personal gain and advantage ! L,et those, in whose power it is to elect the law-makers, cast their ballots for none but honest men. Then, with an honorable man guiding the ship of state, and none but honorable men on the crew, how can it be otherwise than that a more patriotic spirit would be displayed in the next generation. We turn our sad, reluctant gaze Upon the path of duty; Its barren, unwilling' ways Are void of bloom and beauty. Yet in that road, though dark and cold, It seems as we begin it As we press on—I/O ! we behold- There's Heaven in it. —Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 80 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY SUPERLATIVES J. B. BAKER,'01 WHEN, in accusing Peter of affiliation with Jesus of Nazareth, the morbid scions of Jewish authority, said "Thy speech bewrayeth thee," they described a condition of more than local interest. The sentiment their charge embodied has outlived the perverted Sanhedrin. It prevails to-day and applies to us. We are the heirs of a rich language; londled were we in the lap of opulence and children of fortune are prone to squander. Our language, being as it is a composite one, necessarily, by the survival of the fittest, contains the accumulated grace and vigor of its varied progeny. Its verbs express accurately every shade of human thought, even to the antipodal range of a Shakespeare. Its nouns are like the notes of a pianoforte, so varied is their tone. Its adjectives, in their several degrees embellish even that which already is sublime. They are the grace notes in the vernacular strains and of all things the most difficultly used. The proper adaptation of an adjective, even in the positive de-gree, to its corresponding noun is of itself a task of no mean im-port; the comparative requires more skill, while the superlative, like a run of extras on a key board, is accomplished gracefully, only by a practiced man. And yet how prone we are to use them. With what readiness we carry every thing to a ne plus ultra. Why is it thus? Wherein lies the cause ? Emerson has probably answered it, in his essay on history, without intending directly to do so. After a short disser-tation on the various nations that have come and gone over the highway of time, he says, "But I will make no more account of them. I believe in Eternity, I can find Greece, Palestine, Italy, Spain, the islands, the genius and creative principle ofeach andall eras in my own mind." The much-travelled man does not call each high hill a cloud-piercing peak, nor does he speak of every landscape as nature's last attempt. Those are the foibles of childhood. The evolutions of such whose peregrinations have not as yet translated them be-yond their native shire. Precisely the same is true in the world of thought. The cos-mical mind uses few superlatives. The farther out it pushes into unknown tracts, the more it discovers of hitherto unrevealed re-ality, the closer appears its affinity with it, and with that increasing THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 81 identity there comes an increasing frugality of terms. He who has thoroughly established his identity with all reality could not possibly predicate a superlative of any thing without paying his own self an indirect compliment, and this, if report be true, is of all things the most odious to men of a larger growth. So much' so at least that they will use them stintingly, save only as applied to Divinity. As proof of this we need but resort to the sayings and writings of such great men. The genial paternal Emerson is judiciously sparing even in the use of his comparatives and yet there \s an ex-hilarating loftiness in all his thoughts. The many sided Ruskin speaks most frequently in simple, homely, childlike terms, and yet Carlyle compared his words to copious lightning bolts pour-ing incessantly into the black words of anarchy about him. Tolstoi, whose boldness has incurred the hostility of the Russian royalty, seldom calls things by their hardest names, yet his pen is a very scramasax in the side of monarchial iniquity. Nor is this abstemiousness from any thing that smacks of hy-perbole a characteristic only of him who sits down quietly at his desk and writes in his pacific words. It is characteristic of great men everywhere. Even in the forum, tempest-tossed and raging. The men who kindled and maintained the fires of patriotism through seven years of blood strife were men whose speech was as plain as their garb. A few months training in a country school and a six weeks course in law would not be likely to embellish much the speech of any one. But "give me liberty or give me death" had a potency that added superlatives could not augment. Daniel Webster, in that paragon of American philippics, his reply to Senator Hayne, is deadliest when he is plainest. His unadorned arrows are the swiftest. Lincoln, the great, in his speech on these hallowed grounds, gives us not only a model in structure well worth study, but manifests a chastity in terms seldom seen. Not once, in referring to the war in which we were then engaged, does he use an extravagant term such as thousands of others might with apparent justification have employed, and yet there is an Alpine sublimity pervading it all. So we might continue our citation almost indefinitely, pushing our observations out even beyond the confines ofour native tongue; including all ages past and present, all lands and climes, and find the great men every where corroborating the truth. The greater 82 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY the man, the smaller will things appear, and with the diminution of things will come a corresponding frugality of terms; deducting from this the converse and we have in very truth the modern ap-plication of those ancient words, "Thy speech bewrayeth thee." PERSEVERANCE EMORY D. BREAM, '02 T^HE old saying, " A rolling stone gathers no moss," has been * illustrated so often, and in so many ways, that when we see a young man going from one thing to another, not following one pursuit long enough to overcome its difficulties, we at once con-clude that he will never amount to much. The youth who comes to college with the intention of being a doctor, a lawyer, or having in view some other profession, and when he encounters difficulties in Greek, mathematics and other hard studies, has not the conquering spirit to master them, shows to a marked degree the lack of persistency. Or if, during his college course, he is swayed from his purpose, and decides to take a special course because he has failed in some department, or there is in the regular course a laborious, abstract subject which he dislikes, and which he has not the courage to attempt, it is evi-dent that he will never be well prepared to face the more difficult problems of life. Hence, instead of steering to a position of trust and honor, he will drift down the stream along with thousands of aimless beings like himself. On the other hand, the young man who chooses a worthy and honorable calling because he knows it is right and noble to do so; because he knows that to attain the desired end he will have to work long and hard; if such a young man will do with his might what his hand findeth to do, and, like Henry Clay, Daniel Webster or Abraham Lincoln, overcome every obstacle that comes in his way, each victory won will strengthen and encourage him for something higher. With such persistency he is bound to make life a success. The boy who enters life as a clerk, and looks forward to the time when he will be a prominent business man, lending a help-ing hand to the needy, using his influence in every good cause or having some other worthy aim, and takes for his motto this I THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 83 proverb of Solomon, "Seest thou a man diligent in his business? He shall stand before kings;" the boy who enters a blacksmith shop, determined to hammer out, as it were, link by link the very chain by which he is to be raised to honor and usefulness; if such boys keep in mind the life of Iceland Stanford or P. D. Armour or Clem. Studebaker, never dreaming of failure, future genera-tions will not fail to call them blessed. The drummer-boy who says to himself, '' I shall not always beat the drum. I will rise just as high as my talents or the neces-sities of war will permit;" the youthful soldier behind the gun, who performs faithfully every duty, no matter how small it may be; if within his breast burns the spirit of patriotism ; if he feel that faithful work insures success, and that success means that a man must make the best possible use of his God-given talents for the benefit of his fellow-men; if he never allow himself to be deceived nor turned from the path of martial glory by spending his time, strength and money in the regimental saloon; if such drummer-boys and soldiers take as their ideal Paul Jones or An-drew Jackson or Ulysses Grant, their names will be recorded on the pages of history. To-day there is a greater need than ever for able men in the pulpit; for h°nest cashiers in our banks; for upright and noble statesmen, who do not enter politics for money or the gratifying of selfish desires; for truly patriotic generals and admirals, like him who was called "Father of His Country," and who will not, after the war is over, fill the columns of our newspapers with abominable wrangling as to who won certain battles, Santiago for instance, or who will be promoted-and who will not. We shall be needed. Our future depends upon the present. To make the best use of our present opportunities, we must per-severe. "Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving' thine out grown shell by life's unresting sea." —The Chambered Nautilus. 84 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY A DUTCH SCHOOLMASTER'S ADVENTURE A. 0. WOLF, '04' SOME eighty years ago, in the vicinity of the little village of Gettysburg, there lived two celebrated characters. One a long, lank, ungraceful Dutch schoolmaster by the name of Joseph Sleutsenslizer, who wielded the birch in a most prolific manner and who was noted for his arrant cowardice and marked suscepti-bility to feminine influences; the other, Mike Miller by name, a type of Herculean manhood, famed for his ability to break the most vicious horse, and for a diposition to indulge in all the pranks and roguish proceedings-of the most recklessly disposed element of the mischievous young men among whom he lived. It so happened that these worthies were rival suitors for the hand of the village belle. Their antagonism had attained to such proportions that our friend Joseph had felt himself constrained to exert his influence to prevent his rival from receiving an invita-tion to a ball which was to be held at a neighbor's home some distance south of the village. For thus, the schoolmaster argued to himself, he would be able to anticipate the advances of his rival and to monopolize the society of the fair one in question. His plans had worked well. The revelry was over. The tracing and retracing of the woof and weft of the dizzy dance by the light of the roaring logs had ended. The dingy rafters had ceased to ring with peals of girlish laughter and strains of the violin. The swish, swish of fantastic feet was no longer heard. Echo from her rocky cavern stepped forth perplexed at the sudden transformation. A scamper for wraps, a change from almost tropic heat to the crisp atmosphere of a November night, and the terpsichorean revelers bid adieu to their host and the dancing. As they trudge homeward beneath the brilliant emblazonry of a star-lit sky, oceans of midnight air poured over the mountains into the forest-covered valley making its branches groan with forebodings of the coming storm. The maidens became startled at the demoniacal laughter of some melancholy night-bird only to give the attentive swains an opportunity for reassuring them. Jest is passed from couple to couple, and their hilarious spirits find vent in snatches of song and in pertinent thrusts of wit. At the fork of the road they separate with a hasty "good night" and a counter ejaculation of unthought-of-until-the-last-moment inter-rogations hurled at each receding party. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 85 Joseph was now reaping the fruit of his well laid scheme, as, with the fairest of the fair maids in the little village on his arm, he turned to the right on the road that leads past Devil's Den. His heart beat wildly for it was rarely that he had the opportunity of enjoying the society of the beautiful but somewhat reticent maid. In fact, the society of others seemed preferable to his own. This made him gloat over his good fortune as an ogre would gloat over his cannibal repast. The infatuated schoolmaster failed to conceive himself anything but a brilliant courtier in at-tendance on the object of his affection. Moreover, his bigotry would not permit him to offer his awkward, uncouth appearance and decidedly rustic air in striking contrast to the trim figure of his companion, as a possible explanation of her reticence and her disposition to indulge in a peculiar sort of suppressed laughter. Suddenly she became communicative and deftly turned the drift of their conversation on ghosts, hobgoblins and other super-stitious fancies so dear to the heart of the early Dutch settler. Oh, what's that ! she cried, clasping his arm in terror. His heart stood still. But just then a passing breeze rustled the dead leaves on a bush by the roadside which she had mistaken for the crouching figure of some wanderer from Spiritland. After this his aroused imagination saw ghosts innumerable; headless hobgoblins and winged fairies. Even the murky air seemed teeming with imaginary hosts. The drift of his com-panion's conversation by no means tended to allay his trepida-tion. In a fearful whisper she told him of a time when her father passed along that very road after nightfall, and how a horned creature with gleaming eyes and nostrils that breathed forth sheets of flame snatched him up and was bearing him away. It became frightened at the wild cry of a panther, dropped him half dead and galloped into a cavern in the adjacent hillside. Again, she related the story of the adventure of a certain deacon which happened at the rocks which they were then Hear-ing. The deacon was going home from a visit to a sick neighbor and on passing the rocks he heard an unearthly crash and felt the rock on which he stood heave under him. Thunder pealed. The sky was kindled by a lurid blaze. The ground was on flame, and fiery torrents came down in tumultuous avalanches. The rocks melted and the valley assumed the aspect of a basin of glowing ore. He bounded with the speed of the wind through the raging 86 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY conflagration. The sulphurous molten tide pursued him, spouting white columns of vapor and sheets of vitreous lava. As he ran, it gained speed on him; when he bounded, the spot Irom which he sprang was on fire before he alighted on the ground. At length he sank exhausted, but the indefatigable lava rolled on like armies rushing to battle. Suddenly the earth quaked and a fissure appeared, out of which leaped a compan}' of devils as if shot from a subterranean catapult. The foremost, whose stature was as that of a tree, advanced and with a claw-like hand had picked him up and was about to hurl him into the bottomless pit. The deacon recollecting himself cried, "Get thee behind me, Satan,'1 which so enraged his captor that, with a horrible roar, he hurled him through the air with such force that he continued his aerial course until he lauded on his own door step. Joseph was now fully aware of his danger. His natural cow-ardice prompted him to cast his eyes in every nook and cranny of that mass of rocks which now bears such a sinister name, and from which he firmly expected to see the beginning of a sponta-neous combustion which would overwhelm him. Nor had he long to wait. Just as they came opposite the rock a blood-curd-ling yell resounded which would have put to shame a vociferous Comanche brave. By a sudden contraction and relaxation of his muscles, Joseph was elevated some three or four feet in the air. He turned to look for his companion, but she was fleeing with the speed of a whirlwind and giving vent to that series of ex-quisitely rendered screeches, in which startled women delight to indulge. Another whoop from the rock, accompanied by the rattle of chains and clank of iron, and Joseph's knees began to strike each other in a remarkable manner. He looked up, and there on the summit of the rock stood his Satanic Majesty plainly outlined against the stony vault. To the excited beholder he seemed panoplied in all the regal habiliments of a prince of the nether world. His hoofs and horns gleamed in the starlight, and from his eyes scintillated the fiery sparks of his wrath. The poor pedagogue was in a serious predicament. His limbs moved convulsively. His hair rose and with it his hat, allowing the cool breeze to fan his throbbing forehead. His heart palpitated wildly. His breath came in short quick gasps. Hoping that he was in some horrible nightmare, and that his visitor would soon vanish, he looked up. His majesty was de- I THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 87 liberately stepping to the edge of the rock where he tore a tree from its roots, and with a sepulchral roar leaped headlong, with the tree in his grasp, upon the terrified Joseph. The branches of the tree struck him and bore him to the earth. His tormentor leaped upon him, kicked him, pulled his hair, spat upon him, at the same time producing the most hideous noises. Tired of his diversion, he threw the trunk of the tree across the breast of the prostrate pedagogue and started, roaring like an enraged buffalo, in pursuit of the fleeing girl. A rescuing party, aroused by the clamor, came and released the terror-stricken Joseph and heard his fabulous tale. Their mirth knew no bounds. And ever after when the irate school-master was asked to relate his adventure at the Devil's Den he would exclaim, "Vat ! you dink a Dutchman's a geece, hugh ! Do you dink I shust come over tomorrow ?" This, dear reader, is how Devil's Den came to be so named. Again the sun is over all, Again the robin's evening call Or early morning lay; I hear the stir about the farms, I see the earth with open arms, I feel the breath of May. Century Magazine. Oh, the merry May has pleasant hours, And dreamily they glide, As if they floated like the leaves Upon a silver tide. The trees are full of crimson buds, And the woods are full of birds, And the waters flow to music, Like a song with pleasant words. Willis. & There is something grander than the ocean, and that is con-science; something sublimer than the sky, and that is the interior of the soul. —Victor Hugo. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Entertd at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class matter VOL. X GETTYSBURG, PA., MAY, 1901 No. 3 E. C. RUBY, 'Oi, Editor-in-Chief R. ST. CLAIR POFFENBARGER,' 02, Business Manager J. F. NEWMAN, '02, Exchange Editor Assistant,-E.d,.it.ors Advisor•*y Board . -K, o ,"-. PROF. J. A. HIMES, A. M., LIT. D. M. IS"S "ANNIE M. .S"W" ARTZ, '02 _ " _ " ." ~ PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M. D. A. B. RICHARD, '02 _ T _. _ ' -. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D. D. Assistant Business Manager CURTIS E. COOK, '03 Published each month, from October to June inclusive, by the joint literary societies of Peuusj'lvania (Gettysburg-) College. Subscription price, One Dollar a year in advance; single copies Fifteen Cents. Notice to discontinue seudiug the MERCURY to any address must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Professors, and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Business Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS '"pHE first day of May was once a festival in honor of an Ameri- *■ can "saint," canonized simply by popular acclamation. Our colonial troops deprived themselves of the patronage of St. George by their rebellion, and at once they looked about for a saint of their own. Their choice fell on Tamina, a sagamore of the Delaware Indians, who, tradition says, bad whipped satan. Naturally the soldiers concluded that the conqueror of satan could also overcome St. George. The name of St. Tamina was in-scribed upon the banners of the colonial troops and on the first day of May celebrations were held in his honor. These celebra-tions were a combination of the Indian war dance and the old English May Day frolics. The May-pole was crowned with a THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 89 liberty cap, and bore a tomahawk instead of the garlands of flowers used to decorate the English May-pole. The army was not alone in doing honor to the "saint." Poets sang of his virtues. His life was dramatized and appeared on the stage in many places. Societies, which usually took the place of the modern club, were formed under his name. In England it was customary, on the first day of May, to wear a sprig of green gathered in the early morning and worn all day. This sprig was called the " May." The narrow-leaved elm and the hawthorn were the trees from which the sprig was usually taken. The expedition into the grove after it was called " going a-Maying," and the carrying of it home was " bringing in the May." The erecting of a May-pole, the young men and maidens dancing around it with flowers and song, and the choosing of the most attractive maiden as the " Queen of the May," to whom homage was paid as long as the day lasted, were characteristic features in the observance of May Day. This festival was quite general in England until the Puritans of the Commonwealth put a stop to it and uprooted the May-poles. It was again revived after the Restoration, but has now nearly, if not entirely, died out. In the New England States this same festival had been observed for a short time. Here it was also opposed by the Puritans, who regarded it as an emblem of satanic rule. In such an atmosphere it could not flourish long, and soon became a thing of the past. The custom of giving " May baskets," however, survived a little longer, and for aught we know may still be observed in some places. A basket, tastefully arranged with flowers, was left by the love-sick swain at the door of his lady-love; children tied baskets and bouquets on the door-knob of the house wherein dwelt their playmates, and friends remembered each other by gifts and flowers on May Day morning. r"pHEPvE is a surprising lack of knowledge in regard to *■ South America, its people and their ways. There is more known of Europe, Asia and Africa than of South America, once an echo of Spain in her glory and the home of a brave people con-quered by treachery and deceit. When we do study its history at all, we start with its discovery and almost abruptly end there. 90 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Perhaps it is because we do not have so much in common as we have with the people of other countries that we know so little about the people, but it would be better to be more familiar with the doings and character of the people who live on the same side of the world as we do. We usually regard South America as made up of a number of little republics always at odds and the people as indolent and uneducated. We might change our minds some-what if we knew more about them. The natural resources of the country are worth study also, the magnificent mountain-ranges, the valuable forests and mines, the rivers and bays, the fertile plains equal to any which nature has ever bestowed on any country. —S. AN OLD READER CHAS. W. WEISKB, '01 I picked up an old school reader, Which up on the attic lay, Covered with the dust of ages, Brown with mold and decay. I opened its well-worn pages— They were soiled and marked with grime, By the little hands which used them In a by-gone, happy time. And out came the flood of memory, "With a rush, a flutter and sweep, And I lived those days all over— Those days ere I climbed life's steep. Aye! there was the old brown school house, With its warped and beaten floor, And there were the old wooden benches, Arid the old thumb-latch on the door. And there was the rude cut initial, Carved on the desk and seat, And under the forms the shuffling Of stout-booted restless feet. Around me arose a murmur, A chatter and whisp'ring gay, The humming of happy children, In the school beside the way. But the cold winds weirdly sighing, Awoke me from my dream; The present lay before me— Iafe's bright and silvery stream. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 91 PICTURES MARY C. SIELING, '03 HPHERE are pictures not painted with the brush of the artist. * The hills, the valleys, the sky, the rivers—all the works of God—what are they to him that see, aught but so many beautiful pictures ? How the hills, with their trees rising rank above rank, brighten the valleys between them. What artist can imitate the delicate shade of their green ? What colors mixed by man are so beautiful as their red and gold in autumn, and in what picture hung in our houses is there expressed the desolation of those same hills in winter, when the trees are bare and the winds moan through their branches ? The stream sings through the valley, hurrying on to the sea. The sunbeams dance upon the waters, making the scene still more pleasing, while the flowers along its banks add to its,beauty. All this is a beautiful picture, and it fills our hearts with peace. In the sky, too, there are pictures. The heavens are a moving panorama. The blue of the noon-day sky is to the sight what far-off beautiful music is to the ear. It fills us with a vague longing, and turns our thoughts to what is high and spiritual. The sunset is the most beautiful of all pictures, for do not the rifted clouds, bordered in gold, with the splendor spreading from them, seem like outer battlements of heaven when the inner gates are opened ? These pictures are around us and above us day after day. They gladden us, purify us and uplift us. He who can copy these pictures on canvas is the painter, and that man is the best painter who can most com-pletely forget himself and yield his soul and his hand to the Mas-ter of all paintings, content to let himself be the means through which the copies of the paintings, engraved deep on his own soul, are made to stand out on canvas. Raphael painted his beautiful Madonna because, in his mind, there was a beautiful picture of the purity and love of the mother of Jesus, and this picture was his, not only from a study of the Bible, but from the memory of his own pure and noble mother. Michael Angel o, who in the age in which Christian art had reached its zenith, stood almost unrivaled as a painter, sculptor, architect and poet. He painted and carved as never man painted and carved before or since, because he more fully than other men let nature and the God of nature speak through his life and his hand. 92 THE GETTYSBURG MEBCURY But artists are not the only men who try to copy these pictures which God has painted. The poets and prose writers also paint pictures, not with brush and palette, but with words in writing. "The Great Stone Face," how clearly we see with Hawthorne the long valley with the great family of lofty mountains beyond, the great face of stone carved in the side of the mountain, the people of the valley. Ernest, who, as a boy and man, looked through a long life for the face that should resemble the great face carved in stone, and who should thus fulfill a tradition of the valley ! With him we look into the face of the rich man, warrior and poet, and with him we are saddened to find in each one something lacking, but with the people we shout to see at last that he, Ernest himself, is the man who resembles the great stone face. But these pictures drawn by prose writers and painters, in the end mean to us only as much as we put into them. We cannot enjoy a poem or a painting of a forest stream unless we ourselves have felt the restfulness and delightful coolness of a streamlet murmuring over the pebbles under the shade of the overhanging trees, nor will the most beautiful pictured children Millias appeal to us before we have learned in some way the beauty and inno-cence of childhood. Thus in truth, all the pictures, of which we have spoken, depend on the great painter, Nature. But every-body is to a certain extent an artist, because everybody is paint-ing a picture called character. This picture is of more importance in the sight of God and to us than any other kind of picture. Upon this picture depends our happiness hereafter. Some people are trying hard to paint the picture well, while others handle the brush so carelessly that in the end the picture is a mere daub. There are a few men whose characters stand out above others like the paintings of the mas-ters. We should study these pictures, and let the beauty of their character enter into our own lives. If you would teach a boy self-poise, coolness of judgment and majesty of character, let him read about George Washington. If you would have him sincere, looking through the glamour of symbols to the things beneath, let him study long and well the lives of such men as Socrates and Lincoln. But if you would have him to be a true man, rounded, combining all virtues, let THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 93 him study the life of Him more majestic than Washington, for He was the God of man, and more sincere than Socrates. "We should study His life until just as Ernest, by looking long and lovingly into the great stone face, grew like it in feature, we also, by looking at the picture of His character, may grow more and more like Him. SPONTANEITY IN LITERATURE J. RUSH STONER, '01 QPONTANEITY, applied to literature, may be used to desig- ^ nate that spontaneous flow of eloquence or spirit from the depth of the author's own nature, giving to literary work spice and attraction. It may have an ennobling effect, or it may have a degrading effect, according as the life and ethical ideas of the author are high or low. It constitutes the ground upon which what is commonly called good and bad literature are distinguish-able. In the higher sense it might be looked upon as inspiration in literature; in the lower sense, merely as an evil tending to de-moralize the race. All who are familiar with the poetry of Robert Burns have recognized there the naturalness with which the poet gave vent to his feelings. And with the exclusion of his coarser poems, he might be taken as a good type of authors, whose writings flow with natural freshness of pure humor, pathos and wit, appealing strongly to the higher sympathies and the nobler passions. There is in literature a force that molds the character or indi-viduality of the reader. This element, or subtle force, makes itself clearly manifest in the life principles of different individuals, through the subconscious impressions it ingrains upon the mind. For the reader, if he is in the highest sense a true reader, must be in a receptive state, imbibing the spirit and tone of the litera-ture perused. And these impressions are stored up for future reproduction in the principles of life. Enthroned thus in the ruling element of the world, this force becomes at once a power in shaping the destiny of the race. Those who are at all susceptible to literature resort to it either for rest, pleasure, instruction, or for its ennobling influence. The scientist, exhausted from his deep abstraction in the realms of nature, searching for laws and principles in large collections of 94 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY facts, comes hither to quaff from this sparkling fountain, this source of the emotional nature. It is to him a source of rest and pleasure, indispensable to his well-being, that he may draw from his life's work the best results. And, too, what wealth of in-struction is yielded to the earnest seeker after knowledge as he pries into this mine of wisdom. Above all, the ennobling effect ofgood literature is universal; experienced alike by scientist and all who come within the scope of its power. The existence of this subtle force in literature may be verified by the career of a distinguished scientist of the nineteenth cen-tury, who neglected entirely the fine arts and the reading of in-spired writings for the absorbing interests of his life's work. In this description of his own life, Darwin tells his pathetic story. He tells how in the early part of his life he took great delight in poetry and music, and then, after many years of their utter neglect, he tried to read some poetry. But he could no longer appreciate it. His mind had become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, and was so revolutionized that poetry seemed unendurably dull and even nauseating. He had lost all appreciation of the higher tastes. He says this atrophy of the emotional nature is doubtless a loss of happiness. And he expresses an intense regret that he could not have his life to live again, that he might, at regular intervals throughout his busy career, pay some attention to those things which appeal to the spiritual side of life, that this horrible atrophy in his mind might have been averted. Here was a man who accomplished a vast work in science, but his absorption in the work, and neglect of the finer arts, brought him to a painful consciousness of the reality of this element in literature, and its influence upon the reader. While there are many instances that demonstrate the reality of this force by showing the change brought about in the indi-vidual who is isolated from its influences, there are also numerous evidences of its positive influence upon the individuality of the reader. So positive is this influence, that the literature a person enjoys is an unfailing index to his character. If the mind be turned into the channels of heroic and active literature, a heroic spirit of'strong and manly principles, master of circumstances and capable of resisting the most powerful evils, is the inevitable re-sult. If, on the other hand, time is spent in devouring nonsensi- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 95 cal trash of a doubtful, or possibly degrading moral tone, you have as a reward, or rather demerit, a nerveless, sentimental tem-perament, unfit for the accomplishment of any great work, be it in the study or in life's profession. There is no more contemptible type of human character than the nerveless sentimentalist and dreamer, who spends his life in a "weltering sea of sensibility," and never does a concrete, manly deed. But, ah ! the individuality formed by contact with inspir-ing and ennobling literature ! How sublime is that character, standing firm amid the tempests, like a tower when everything rocks about it, and the weaker fellow-mortals are winnowed like chaff in the blast ! Since there is. a spontaneous force in literature exerting its influence over every reader, whether he is conscious of the fact or not, how essential it is that all current literature and fiction should be idealistic, upholding the ideal of the race; for this is the law of human progress. It would be better if the realistic novel were never published. What we want is a stalwart ideal-ism. In life " aim and ideal are everything;" so it is in litera-ture. And if these be high and just, the author is true to his profession, and will be false to no one. How great is the responsibility resting upon the author ! He may be the agency through which humanity is brought into the most exalted phase of moral excellence, or into the vilest degen-eracy, endowing the race with real wealth to promote its civiliza-tion, or bringing upon it the deadliest curse. Then let those who are looking forward to a higher order of things, social and politi-cal, equip themselves and aspire to win the favor of the people by making the idealistic literature surpass in splendor the low-grade realistic novel, as the glorious mid-day sun outshines the insignificant glow-worm. And let the unscrupulous author, who has no higher ambition than to cater to the populace, sink into oblivion beneath the weight of a refined popular taste and criti-cism. This mournful truth is everywhere confessed, Slow rises worth by poverty depressed. -Johnson. 96 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY IN NATURE'S REALM J. RUSH STONER, '01. How oft in life's deep vestige sought,— Be it in Nature's realm and throne, Where fleeting time has strata laid, And plant life quivering, by zephyrs blown, Wafts perfume o'er the sacred dead, Or in the search of truth and lore,— The Unintended lifts its head And speaks in oracles of yore! In the closing days of winter drear, When anon begins through Nature's veins To course the life of a living world, We strolled through field and rustic lanes; Enchanting for romance were they, In facts for science richer still. We searched for minerals, types of rock And phenomena caused by rippling rill. And lo! within a fractured rock A microscopic plant was seen. Perennial, delicate, tiny thing, It has of Nature's marvels been One oft escaped the human eye; A life unscathed by Aeolian breath Or Zeus' cataclysms wild, Nor felt Apollo's scorching dearth. But clinging to the rugged cliff A lonely, solitary form; In all the great, wide universe Only a little speck forlorn; Yet symmetry and order plain Are there set forth in clear design By the Supreme Intelligence, Its "Great Original," benign. A useless infinitesimal plant! But it a mission has to fill: It may proclaim the law Divine, And be of greatest value still. If it but shows that God, who keeps The stars in cosmic beauty bright, Regards the smallest forms of being, It turns on science floods of light. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 97 i And man, a spark of the Divine May see in this the message clear, That God who rules things great and small In sweet compassion holds them dear. And he may catch the inspiration, That love, the essence of the soul, Controls and rules the universe And pilots safely to the goal. A COUNTRY BARN ON A RAINY DAY D. S. Weimer, '03 TT is a warm summer morning, the folks have arisen from the long, A sweet slumbers of the night, breakfast has been prepared and served, the horses have been fed and harnessed, and all are ready to go to their respective duties, when, lo! the sky becomes dark, ened and in a short time the rain begins to descend upon the parched earth, causing the drooping plants to lift their heads, as it were, and to spread out their leaves that they may be bathed by the gentle rain. All stand wrapped in delight, as they watch the rain which has been needed so long, no one being unwilling to rest from his labor, while the gentle rain descends to replenish the earth with flowers and fruits. Soon the scene changes. The father, ever mindful ofhis duties, bids the sons go to the barn to unharness the horses. When this is done, they are told that they must go to the barn-floor and pre-pare to thresh some rye in order to have some long straw for tying the corn in the autumn. Soon the doors are thrown open and you see the boys sweeping the floor to get ready to place upon it the sheaves of grain ready for the flail. When the sweeping is completed, you see James climb thelad-der and pass into the mow, while Henry remains upon the floor to arrange the sheaves in order, one after the other, until the floor is fairly covered, when James ceases to throw them from the mow and descends to the floor and prepares to begin with the flail. Taking their flails, they step to their places, and at once begin to strike with alternate strokes, creating a great noise so that it is very difficult to be understood in speaking, but doing the work to which they were appointed with apparent ease and skill. They 98 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY labor during the long hours of the day, ceasing only when thefact that it is time to perform the regular evening duties is made known to them. From what I have said, you may infer that the "Country Barn" is, besides being a protection for the animals against the inclem-ency ofthe weather and a storehouse for grain, a kind ofworkshop, where boys are taught to improve their time and not to throw away the golden moments. We shall see that it is something more. While James and Henry are busy at their work, Willie, Ned, and Joe, who are yet too small to bear the greater burdens of life, are rolling over the hay, turning somersault, standing upon their heads, playing "Run and Jump," "Hide and Seek," and indulg-ing in other sports. Seated in the corner of the barn-floor or run-ning to and fro, or lounging in the swing made by Henry, are Jane and Nell, too selfish to engage in sport with the boys, or probably keeping away, pouting on account of some trick which the boys have served them. Thus wesee that the "Country Barn" is a shelter, a storehouse, a workshop, and a playhouse, teaching to us the lesson that the things which exist may be used for different purposes, each pur-pose in its own time, being necessary for full and complete devel-opment and advantageous to all. «f^£> ALL SOULS DAY W. H. B. CARNEY, '99. Arched above, a reefless ocean Gray of clouds; no sunny glow: Leafless trees affect no motion To the biting' winds which blow. Everywhere are solemn faces,— Father, mother, daughter, son; Over all I see the traces Of a sorrow, deep and lone. Towards God's acre slowly walking Where a loved one lies "At Rest"; Thinking all, but none are talking: Sometimes Silence speaks the best. w THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 99 On the arm a wreath of holly With white flowers wove between; But the gnawing melancholy Of the heart cannot be seen. In the churchyard there is weeping Over every ivied mound; Some have infant forms in keeping, Some by sculptor's hand are crowned. On the graves the wreaths are lying, Glistening with blood-warm tears, Tribute of a love undying, Living on through dragging years. In a homestead sits a maiden Sighing o'er a golden band ; For his grave her hands not laden; There's a trench in foreign land. In her dreams a wife is hearing Lashing waves that froth and roar; And she sees a boat that's nearing,— But it never reached the shore. • In the church is told the story How the Christ, in village Nain, Gave a widow cause to glory, Raising up her son again. While the trumpet tones are blowing All the dead in Him shall rise; And the living, those reknowing. Shall meet with them in the skies. Every desert yield the treasured, Every mountain, and the Bea, Thousands in whose deeps unmeasured Toss like leaves upon the lea. Then I see the faint hearts strengthen And the tears are wiped away; For the shadows soon will lengthen, Herald of Eternal Day. —Berlitz School of Languages, Berlin, Germany. 100 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY EXCHANGES TVTE have been pleased to receive more than the usual number " of magazines and journals from different colleges and universities during the past month, many of which visited our desk for the first time. Among these the Red and Blue, because of its neat and attractive appearance, and wealth of both poetry and prose, will always be most heartily welcomed. The Harvard Monthly is unassuming in appearance, and filled with excellent literary productions. The Nassau Literary Magazine and the University of Virginia Magazine are both entertaining as always. In addition to these, many others could be mentioned. It has been interesting to note that nearly all the magazines have given considerable space to poetical selections, and also that the number of really good prose articles is greater than dur-ing the previous month. The Lesbian Herald contains a tender and beautiful poem, "The Trailing Arbutus," whose title was probably suggested by John Burrough's poem on the" same subject. We quote the fol-lowing : " Her presence like glimmering sunshine seemed, And the soft sweet breath of the spring, The blue of her eyes was the blue of the heaven, Her voice had a gladsome ring. " Like the voice of the birds as they sing in the trees, When the sweet April shower is done, Or lift to the heavens their anthems of praise When a glad new day has begun. " But the wind swept by with a wailing moan, And the maiden so wondrous fair Was gone in her glory of summer sheen, But the prints of her feet were there. " You call it the trailing arbutus flower, A sweet breath of spring, you say, But I know the glory which gave it birth In the foot-prints left that day." The author of '' The L,ady of the L,ake '' in The Mountaineer evidently appreciates the vivacity and beauty of one of Scott's grandest productions, and thoroughly enjoys the chivalric spirit manifested by the characters. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 101 In the St. John's Collegian appears an article on " The Bible as a Text-book.'' The importance of this subject cannot be ques-tioned when we think of the efforts which are made to exclude the Bible from the curriculum of our educational institutions, and the author's very thorough discussion has our entire appro-bation . The Juniata Echo is publishing a series of articles on Porto Rico, written by Prof. M. G. Brumbaugh, Ph. D., Commissioner of Instruction in Porto Rico. These articles contain valuable information. The last issue contains an article on Martin Luther, part of which we take the liberty of quoting: " Martin Luther was the example of loyalty, the exponent of freedom, the guiding star of the Reformation, the advocate of the genuine Pauline Doctrine, and the mainstay of Christendom since the Apostles. . ******* " 'Thou, who art so great in whatever aspect we view thee, so worthy of admiration, so deserving of universal gratitude, alike great as a man, a scholar, a citizen, and a Christian', hast so in-spired us with the thought so characteristic of thy life, that he who steers his frail canoe the best, truest and noblest in the ser-vice of himself, his Alma Mater, his nation and his God; steers it longest when he receives his reward." "The Chemist's Guess" in The Free Lance teaches two important lessons—" the result of careless work " and " honesty is the best policy." J-Other exchanges to be acknowledged are: The Dickinson Lit-erary Monthly, The Susquehanna, The College Folio, The Western Ufiiversity Courant, The Catthage Collegian, The Scio Collegian, The Phoenix, The Campus and The Forum. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. C. R. SOLT MERCHANT TAILOR Masonic Bldg., GETTYSBURG Our collection of Woolens for the coming Fall and Winter season cannot be surpassed lor variety, attractive designs and general completeness. The latest styles of fashionable novelties in the most approved shades. Staples of exceptional merit, value and wearing durability. Also altering, repairing, dyeing and scouring at moderate prices. In buying don't forget the Advertisers. They support us. ESTABLISHED 1867 BY ALLEN WALTON. ALLEN K. WALTON, President and Treasurer. ROBT. J. WALTON, Superintendent. flammelstomn Bromn Stone Gompany Quarrymen and Manufacturers of Building Stone, Sawed Flagging and Tile Waltonville, Dauphin Co., Pa. Contractors for all kinds of Telegraph and Express Address. Cut Stone Work. BROWNSTONE, PA. Parties visiting the Quarries will leave cars at Brownstone Station on the P. & R. R. B. For a nice sweet loaf of Bread call on J. RAMER Baker of Bread and Fancy Cakes, GETTYSBURG. PA. EIMER & AMEND, Manufacturers and Importers of Chemicals and Chemical Apparatus 205, 207, 209 and 211 Third Avenue, Corner 18th Street NEW YORK. Finest Bohemian and German Glassware, Royal Berlin and Meissen Porcelain, Pure Hammered Platinum, Balances and "Weights. Zeiss Mi-croscopes and Bacteriological Apparatus; Chemical Pure Acids and Assay Goods. SCOTT PAPER COMPANY MAKERS OF FINE TOILET PAPER 7th and Greenwood Ave. PHILADELPHIA PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. The Century Double-Feed Fountain Pen. Fully Warranted J6 Kt. Gold Pen, Iridium Pointed. GEO. EVELER, Agent for Gettysburg College PRICE LIST. Spiral, Black or Mottled $2 50 Twist, " 2 SO Hexagon, Black or Mottled 2 SO Pearl Holder, Gold Mounted S 00 THE CENTURY PEN CO. WHITEWATER, WIS. Askjour Stationer or our Agent to show them toyon. Agood local agent wanted in every school No. 1. Chased, long or short $2 00 No. 1. Gold Mounted 3 00 No. 3. Chased 3 00 No. 3. Gold Mounted 4 00 awfwmiffmmmmwiffmiffifmrmiffmmiffifrTffffgg 7k Printing and Binding We Print This Book THE MT. HOEEY STATIONERY AND PRINTING CO. does all classes of Printing and Binding-, and can furnish you any Book, Bill Head, Letter Head, Envelope, Card, Blank, or anything pertain-ing- to their business in just as good style and at less cost than you can obtain same elsewhere. They are located among the mountains but their work is metropolitan. You can be convinced of this if you give them the opportunity. Mt. Holly Stationery and Printing Co. *SPRINGS, PA. UMkJttiUlUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUiUR H. S. BENNEF?, .DEALER IN. Groceries, Notions, Queensware, Glassware, Etc, Tobacco and Cigars. 17 CHAMBERSBURG ST. WE RECOMMEND THESE BUSINESS MEN. Pitzer House, (Temperance) JNO. E. PITZER, Prop. Rates $1.00 to $1.25 per day. Battlefield a specialty. Dinner and ride to all points of interest,including the th ree days' tight, $1.25. No. 127 Main Street. You will find a full line of Pure Drugs and Fine Sta-tionery at the People's Drug Store Prescriptions a Specialty. J. A. TAWNEY_^ Is ready to furnish Clubs and Boarding Houses with Bread, Rolls, Etc. At short notice and reasonable rates. Washington & Middle Sts., Gettysburg. . A. WONDERS, Corner Cigar Parlors. A full line of Cigars, Tobacco, Pipes, Etc. Scott's Corner, Opp. Eagle Hotel. GETTYSBURG, PA. M. B. BENDER Furniture IRON BEDS, MATTRESSES, SPRINGS Picture Framing" and Repair Work done Promptly 27 BALTIMORE ST. GETTYSBURG, PA. .GO TO. fyokl Gettysburg Barber Sfyop. Centre Square. B. M. SEFTON WTJ /~T\P\r\Dl Successor to . r . {JJUKJKl, Simon J.Codori Dealer in Beef, Pork, Lamb, Veal, Sausage. Special rates to Clubs. York St., GETTYSBURG. .GO TO. CHAS. E. BARBEHENN, Barber In the Eagle Hotel, Cor. Main and Washington Sts. * CHAS. S. MUMPER (Formerly of Mumper & Bender) Furniture Having opened a new store opposite W. M. R. R. Depot, will be pleased to have you call and examine goods. Picture Framing promptly attended to. Repair Work a Specialty Students' Trade Solicited FAVOR THOSE WHO FAVOR US. Spalding's Official League Ball and Athletic Goods Officially adopted by the lead ing Colleges, Schools and Athletic Clubs of the Country Every Requisite for— BASE BALL FOOT BALL GOLF TENNIS ATHLETICS GYMNASIUM Spalding's Official League Ball Is the Official Ball of the National league, the princi-pal minor leagues and all the leading-college associations Handsome Catalogue of Base Ball and all Athletic Sports Eree to any address Spalding's Offi-cial Base Ball Guide for 1901, edited by Henry Ohadwick, ready March 30,1901. Price 10 cents; A. O. SPALD1NO & BROS., Incorporated NEW YORK CHICAGO DENVER ROWE, Your Grocer Carries Full Line of Groceries, Canned Goods, Etc. Best Coal Oil and Brooms at most Reasonable Prices. OPPOSITE COLLEGE CAMPUS. S. J. CODORI, ^4 Druggists Dealer in Drugs, Medicines, Toilet Articles, J* Stationery, Blank Books, Amateur Pho-tographic Supplies, Etc., Etc. BALTIMORE ST. R. H. CULP PAPER HANGER, Second Square, York Street. COLLEGE EMBLEMS. EMIL ZOTHE, ENGRAVER, DESIGNER AND MANUFACTURING JEWELER, 19 S. NINTH ST. PHILADELPHIA SPECIALTIES: Masonic Marks, Society Badges, College Buttons, Pins, Scarf Pins, Stick Pins and Athletic Prizes. All Goods ordered tltrough A. N. Beau. To Repair Broken Arti-cles use Remember MAJOR'S RUBBER CEMENT, MAJOR'S LEATHER CEMENT, Meneely Bell Co. TROY, N. Y. MANUFACTURERS OF SUPERIOR BELLS The 2000 pound bell now ringing in the tower of Pennsylvania Col-lege was manufactured at this foundry. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. The Pleased Customer Is not a stranger in our establish-ment— he's right at home, you'll see him when you call. We have the materials to please fastidious men. J. D. LIPPY, Merchant Tailor 39 Chambersburg St., Gettysburg, Pa. Try My Choice lane of ,\ High-Grade Chocolates 3 'at 40c per lb. Always fresh, at ,£ CHAS. H. McCLEARY J Carlisle St., Opposite W.M.R.R. jj Also Foreign and Domestic Fruits A i Always on Hand. B,C L. D. Miller, GROCER Confectioner and Fruiterer. Ice Cream and Oysters in Season. 19 Main St. GETTYSBURG City Hotel, Main St. Gettysburg. Free 'Bus to and from all Trains Thirty seconds' walk from either depot Dinner with drive over field with four or more, $1.35 Rates $1.50 to $2.00 per day John E. Hughes, Prop. 1 k Capitol Cit£ Cafe Cor. Fourth and Market Sts. HARRISBURG, PA. Pirst-Class Rooms Furnished. Special Rates to Private Parties. Open Day and Nig-ht. European Plan. Lunch of All Kinds to Order at the Restaurant. ALDINQER'S CAPITOL CITY CAFE. POPULAR PRICES F. Mark Bream, Dealer in Fancy and Staple Groceries Telephone 29 Carlisl e St., GETTYSBURG, PA. .Photographer. No. 3 Main St., GETTYSBURG, PENNA. Our new effects in Portraiture are equal to photos made anywhere, and at any price. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS Wright, 140-142 Woodward Avenue DETROIT, MICH. Manufacturers of High Grade Fraternity Emblems Fraternity Jewelry Fraternity Novelties Fraternity Stationery Fraternity Invitations Fraternity Announcements Fraternity Programs Send for Catalogue and Price List. Special Designs on Application. MOTEL GETTYSBURG LIVERY GETTYSBURG, PA. LONG & HOLTZWORTM, Proprietors Apply at Office in the Hotel for First-Class Guides and Teams THE BATTLEFIELD A SPECIALTY Uhe JSolton Market Square •fcartfeburg, fl>a. Earge and Convenient Sample Rooms. Passenger and Baggage Elevator. Electric Cars to and from Depot. Electric Eight and Steam Heat. J. M. & M. S. BUTTERWORTH, Proprietors Special Rates for Commer-cial Men "EZ 1ST IMMER CUT ET WAS ZU WISSEIN." These are the words of Goethe, the great German poet, and are as true in our day as when uttered. In these times of defective vision it is good to know something about eyes. A great deal has been learned about the value of glasses and their application since Goethe lived. Spectacle wearers have increased by thousands, while at the same time, persons losing their eyesight have been greatly diminished. If your eyes trouble you in any way let me tell you the cause. Examination free and prices reasonable. We grind all our own lenses and fit the best lenses (no matter what anyone else has charged you) for $2.50 per pair and as cheap as SO cents per pair, or duplicate a broken lens if we have one-half or more of the old one, at a reasonable charge, returning same day received. .E. L EGOLE. 807 and 809 North Third Street, HARRISBURG, PA. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. ^entpol Jlotel, ELIAS FISSEL, Prop. (Formerly of Globe Hotel) Baltimore Street, Gettysburg, Pa. Two doors from Court House. MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. Steam Heat, Electric Inght and Call Bells all through the House. Closets aud Bath Rooms on Every Floor. Sefton & Flem-minfr's Livery is connected with this Hotel. Good Teams and Competent Guides for the Battlefield. Charges Moderate, Satisfaction Guaranteed. Rates $1.30 Per Day. GET A SKATE ON And send all your Soiled Einen to the Gettysburg Steam Laundry R. R. LONG, Prop. Horace Partridge & Co., BOSTON, MASS. Fine Athletic Goods Headquarters for Foot Ball, Gym-nasium, Fencing' and Track Supplies. Send for Illustrated Catalog. 84 and 86 Franklin Street R. W. LENKER, Agent at Penna. College. JOHN M. MINNIGH, Confectionery, lee, ■•««>Iee Creams Oysters Stewed and Fried. No. 17 BALTIMORE ST. The Leading garber v5f)op (Successor to C. C. Sefton) Having thoroughly remodeled the place is now ready to accommodate the public Barber Supplies a Specialty. .Baltimore Street. Grymi5£im(i, PA. ESTABLISHED 1876 PENROSE MYERS, Watchmaker and Jeweler Gettysburg Souvenir Spoons, Col-lege Souvenir Spoons. NO. 10 BALTIMORE ST., GETTYSBURG, PENNA. L. i\. kiimm Manufacturers' Agent and Jobber of Hardware, Oils, Paints and Queensware. GETTYSBURG, PA. The Only Jobbing House in Adams County. i I - >- L PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. For Fine- Printing go to Tte Jo Co Wile Pnviqjg HOOK CARLISLE ST. GETTYSBURG, PA. C. B. Kitzmiller Dealer in Hats, Caps, Boots and Douglas Shoes GETTYSBURG, PA. R. M. Elliott Dealer in Hats, Caps, Shoes and. Gents' Furnishing Goods Corner Center Square and Carlisle Street GETTYSBURG, PA. EDGARS. MARTIN, F^CIGARS AND SMOKERS' ARTICLES. Chambersburg St., Gettysburg Leadership IN THE CLOTHING and MEN'S EURNISHING Business It is strictly here—everybody knows it. Testimony ? The stock itself. The pen suffi-ciently nimble to tell all the good points of our ::::::: PALL AND WINTER. SUITS AND OVERCOATS has not been found. We will keep you dressed right up-to-date if you buy your Clothing and Furnishings here. : : : : STIINE McPherson Block- No. II BALTIMORE STREET <5ett\?stmret pa. /iDerville E. Zinn, proprietor The Leading Hotel Rates $2.00 per Day Long & Holtzworth Livery Attached Cuisine and Service First-Class We furnish The swellest Furnishings for Collegians in America. Ties, Hosiery, Gloves, Underwear, Sweaters, Hats, Caps. PRICES EXTREMELY REASONABLE. Joseph Auerbach, 623 Penna. Ave., Washington, D. C

Issue 50.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1991. ; Review for Religious Volume 50 Number 3 May/June 1991 Paradigms for Ministry ,Religious Life and Modernity Mary, Woman for Peacemakers Atheism in Our Prayer ANNIVERSARY VOLUME Rt~vmw vo~ R~.:t,tc~ous (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428: St. Louis. MO 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. POSTMASTER: Send address changes In Rr:v~:w ~'ou R~:~,l~;,ms: P.O. Bnx 6070: Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs: two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 R~:w~:w David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. May/June 1991 Volume 50 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~:vl~:w ~'on R~:Lt{;tot~s; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Cannnical Counsel" should be addressed to Elizabeth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue: P.O. Box 29260; Washingtnn, D.C. 20017. Back issues should be ordered from Rt~vt~:w vo~ RELI(;IOUS; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of Print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to: Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. Struggle marks these first few months of 1991. The struggle in the Middle East, whatever the good and bad results, has made even more evident in our time the futility of modern warfare as a way of solving human problems. Violent warfare breeds only further injustice in a down-ward spiral for humankind. Pope John Paul II, along with leaders in the other Christian churches, left no doubt that "just" wars (much less "holy" wars) are concepts with no meaning for our technological world. How painful a struggle it is for people of different races or ethnic origins to work together to form a single nation becomes daily more ap-parent in Africa, in India, in the Eastern European countries, and in North, Central, and South America. Poverty and wealth present another face of struggle---evident perhaps as close as our urban neighborhood and writ as large as the consumer societies of the northern hemisphere in relation to the debt-ridden nations of the southern hemisphere. And differences in religious belief and traditions still mix in with other fac-tors to stir up the seemingly endless struggle in situations as far apart as Northern Ireland, Lebanon, and Sri Lanka. In comparison with these world-situated struggles, our local strug-gles in parish life, in our religious communities, in family, and in our various ministry situations pale in significance. But local struggles still cause real pain and leave wounds that cripple our efforts, make us less faith-filled and less human, and ultimately tend to arouse in us the war-monger desires we decry "out there" in the bigger world. In the venerable tradition of the Catholic Church, Mary mother of the Lord, appears to take prominence in our faith lives at times of greater struggle. With reflections particularly appropriate to our present-day con-text, Patricia McCarthy, C.N.D., turns our focus to Mary as a woman for peacemakers. In a similar way, Jeffrey Gros, F.S.C., suggests that Mary may well play an integrating role in ecumenical relations rather than the divisive one that is traditionally projected. Perhaps with our hearts more attuned to the peacemaking role of Mary we can enter more reflectively into the struggle of our Christian and religious community lives and of our various ministries. James J. McEnroe explores new meanings for the images we use in regard to Chris-tian ministry as a way of presenting some reconciling paradigms. "The Ministry of BEing" represents Charleen Hug's attempt to bring balance to the interior struggle which people face in'the midst of their work. For his part, William Hogan, C.S.C., underscores mission as central to life together as well as to a vocational appeal. Dennis J. Billy, C.SS.R., 321 Review for Religious, May-June 1991 brings together some traditional and modern approaches taken to moral theology and the special symbol role of religious life within this disci-pline. Perhaps he points a way to understanding how religious life and peacemaking are meant necessarily to be congruent. Other writers turn our attention to some alleviating factors in the strug-gle areas of our community lives--whatever form community may take for us. Mary Carboy, S.S.J., stresses hospitality, Donald Macdonald, S.M.M., considers courtesy, and Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D., imagina-tively suggests various lubricants for community living. With a specific focus on the life of women and men religious, Albert Dilanni, S.M., pre-sents some insightful reflections to situate the current struggles about re-ligious- life identity. Gerald Arbuckle, S.M., looks at leadership and its organic role in the struggle of refounding. The area of formation in the light of structural sin and structural conversion is the concern of David Couturier, O.F.M.Cap. Doris Gottemoeller, R.S.M., gives us further food for thought about the confused issue of membership as new ways of associating people into religious organizations and activities are be-ing explored. Our ultimate struggle, of course, is our relationship with God. One very important aspect of that struggle is caught in the paradoxical title of David J. Hassel's "Atheism in Our Prayer." Just as the biblical ac-count of Jacob's wrestling with an angel mirrors at times our own strug-gles to respond to the continuing conversion calls from the Lord, so Has-sel tries to shed light into the areas of darkness and apparent absence of God that are often a part of developing faith life. In prayer, in community, and in mission we look to Mary to intro-duce us ever more deeply into the ways of her Son, the Son of peace. Perhaps the Marian mantra for our times is captured in the traditional "Mary, queen of peace, pray for us." David L. Fleming, S.J. Paradigms for Ministry: Old Images, New Meanings James J. McEnroe, Th.D. Father McEnroe, of the St. Louis archdiocese, teaches pastoral theology at Kenrick Seminary and has helped facilitate some programs for the archdiocesan Office of Min-istry. His address is Kenrick Seminary; 5200 Glennon Drive; St. Louis, Missouri 63119. Recently, during a class session in which the topic "Paradigms for Min-istry" was being discussed, a student observed that it is difficult to find meaning in some of the traditional paradigms for ministry, especially those derived from another culture and another time. ~ The paradigms that the student was referring to are some of the more traditional in Christian theology and in the Bible. These paradigms are pilgrim, servant, prophet, and shepherd.2 Each of them, if they are to be meaningful, must be retrieved and reinterpreted in the light of a contemporary understand-ing of ministry, including the skills necessary to live out those paradigms in ministry. In this article each paradigm will be discussed, with special consideration given to its biblical roots, its contemporary meaning, and the skills required to live it out in ministry. Finally, some conclusions will be drawn concerning ministry today, especially the demands placed on persons who are engaged in or preparing for ministry, in the church or in the marketplace. Paradigm (paradeigmatizo) means "to make an example of." Para-digms emerge from an attempt to think about something from within our own experience. Paradigms are by their very nature incomplete; that is, they are helpful constructs with which to speak about a particular reality but which always fall short of that reality. If paradigms are to make sense, therefore, they must resonate with our experience in ministry. 323 324 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 And, if we are to put those paradigms into practice in ministry, we must gain the skills necessary to do so. Pilgrim The paradigm of pilgrim evokes the image of a journey. The Greek word (anabaino) means "to go up to." In the New Testament the fol-lowers of Christ are called nonresident aliens (para-epi-demos), because they were on a pilgrimage to their true homeland, which is connected in-timately with the reign of God. The first epistle of Peter (1:1) is ad-dressed to "those who live as strangers scattered throughout Pontus, Gala-tia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia.' ,3 The image conveyed in the para-digm, at least as it is found in the Christian Bible, is that of persons who know where they are going, but who need to travel through some un-known territory in order to get there. In the Bible these pilgrims are pre-sumed to be traveling on foot, taking one step at a time, and in a rather systematic, that is, orderly, way.4 As with any travelers, pilgrims must possess certain skills, which be-come tools of their trade. Pilgrims are confronted with the need to read road maps, recognize the meaning of signposts, and investigate the proper means of conveyance in order to reach their destination. Those traveling to areas with which they are unfamiliar, for example, soon dis-cover that, unless one of their party possesses a sense of direction and is skilled in the art of map reading, the journey can become inconven-ient, even treacherous. C.S. Lewis, in his Pilgrim's Regress, says that pilgrims must pos-sess the ability to use certain instrumentation on their journey. One of Lewis's characters, a young man named John, is being instructed in the ways of the world by his elders. He cannot understand their suggestions, however. The elders are supposed tO be his guides. Yet, as Lewis points out, if John does not learn to navigate on his own he will be forever at the mercy of other would-be guides.5 At one point in the story, a stew-ard slips a card containing some rules into John's hand, at which point a question is posed. "What use are rules to people who cannot read?''6 If those engaged in or preparing for ministry cannot use the tools of their trade and do not possess practical knowledge, they will be forever at the mercy of other, perhaps less competent, guides. The skills that are required for putting the paradigm of pilgrim into practice in ministry are called instrumental skills. They are the skills of the mind and of the hands: of cognition, of artisanship, and of one's min-istry. The origin of instrumental skills relates to the development of tools in the history of the human community, and to the personal dexterity re- Pardigms for Ministry quired to use them.7 It is difficult to imagine someone ministering in today's Church who is unable to use a computer, which is really an advanced form of the quill or pen. It is equally difficult to imagine someone ministering who is un-able to express himself or herself clearly and effectively, either in pub-lic speaking or in writing. Since ministry today requires both planning and evaluation, it is essential also for those engaged in it to be able to plan programs effectively and to evaluate them when they are completed. There is also a body of practical knowledge, for example, theology, Scrip-ture, and Church history, that is essential for ministry today. It is common to hear persons engaged in ministry complain about be-ing required to attend computer training courses, time-management and stress-management classes, or opportunities for continuing theological education. When asked why they are complaining, persons in ministry may say, "Because I am too busy and tired." Which perhaps demon-strates that time management and stress management are necessary in-strumental skills for today's ministers. While they may complain, min-isters are doing themselves, as well as those with whom and for whom they work, a great service by acquiring the necessary instrumental skills for their work. If we are going to be pilgrim people, we must possess the skills re-quired to be the best of pilgrims. We must, with God's help, be able to chart our course and read the signposts and thereby successfully negoti-ate the journey. Servant The second paradigm, that of servant, evokes an image of one who assists others. In the New Testament the word servant (doulos) is actu-ally a title of honor, which was claimed by Paul and by the disciples of Jesus. In the letter to the Romans (1:1), Paul refers to himself as a "ser-vant of Christ Jesus." The servant paradigm, at least among the early Christians, had lost its pejorative meaning. In fact, those who assisted others in the community were called servants (douleo) because that was their ministry.8 In the Church today there are many ministries that are ministries of service: for example, spiritual direction, pastoral counseling, evangeli-zation, and youth ministry. These,'and other ministries of service, re-quire certain skills that allow the ministers to walk with those with whom they minister and to whom they are sent. Karl Rahner, in his Servants of the Lord, says that ministry is by its very nature service, not status. He adds that service must be seen always 326 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 in reference to the community. Service requires ministers to be with and to walk with others who are on their own journeys in life.9 The skills necessary for serving others are called interpersonal skills. They bring about human cooperation, they enhance human interaction. ~0 In fact, the Church, in its traditional understanding of ministry, equates it with service. Ann Wilson Schaef, in her book The Addictive Organi-zation, points out that we live in a world of codependents, rather than in an interdependent world. Dysfunctions in the family of origin makes it very difficult for an incr.easingly large number of persons to work ef-fectively in cooperative and collaborative settings.t~ Since those preparing for or engaged in ministry are products of their environment, both familial and societal, and since environment deter-mines to a large extent the strengths as well as the weaknesses which per-sons bring to ministry, today's ministers must work especially hard to develop and maintain their interpersonal skills. In the Church today there is a clear call for collaborative ministry, that is, for teams of women and men working together for the good of the Church. Ironically, for some of the aforementioned reasons, many of those choosing ministry as their vocation would rather work alone. They are not team players, perhaps because they have not learned the skills necessary for cooperation and for successful human interaction. ~2 For a significant number of persons preparing for or engaged in min-istry, there are several interpersonal skills that are difficult to put into practice in their lives and in their ministries. One of those skills is con-frontation. Perhaps the difficulty lies in the assumption that confronta-tion, which requires the honest expression of emotion and assertiveness, is not the Christian thing to do. When those engaged in ministry experi-ence conflicts between themselves and others, they must confront the per-son or persons with whom there is a conflict--which is perhaps the only Christian thing to do. Confrontation is the ability to name and express one's inner reaction, usu-ally emotional, to an external event, especially but not exclusively when it involves an unpleasant encounter. Confrontation is like holding up a mir-ror so that others can see themselves. Confrontation should be used with honesty and care to address another person's behavior, when that behav-ior is appropriate and when it is inappropriate. It is essential, both for life and for ministry, to skillfully confront problematic situations so that com-munication and understanding can lead to more successful ministry. Instrumental and interpersonal skills, therefore, are basic skills for anyone engaged in or preparing for ministry. And, more often than not, Paradigms for Ministry / 327 instrumental and interpersonal skills are acquired at the same time. In fact, they are complementary. They enhance the minister's ability to meet the technical demands of ministry and to communicate more effec-tively with others on a daily basis. Perhaps a concrete example of the interaction and interdependence of instrumental and interpersonal skills will be helpful. The ministry of spiritual direction, which more and more persons are requesting, requires directors to possess certain instrumental skills. Directors must know the techniques of direction and be versed in spiritual theology and sacred Scripture. They must also possess certain interpersonal skills. They must hear accurately the issues presented by directees and reflect back to them what they hear. Instrumental skills, for the most part, must be acquired. Interpersonal skills, on the other hand, can be innate. But more often than not they need to be acquired. Perhaps, at meetings with technically competent per-sons, we have seen the participants "sharing" insights with one another and yet not hearing one another, or at least not reflecting back to the speak-ers what they heard. The purpose of such reflecting back, of course, is to give the speakers a sense of being heard and the listeners a chance to check out what the speakers are saying. Formation programs for minis-try, as well as many professional schools, teach and foster not only the instrumental skills necessary for their professions, but also the interper-sonal skills necessary for cooperation and collaboration. This is both en~ couraging and timely. Persons engaged in or preparing for ministry today face the challenge of acquiring the instrumental and interpersonal skills that are necessary for their vocation. Skilled helpers are not only good pilgrims, but they are also more effective servants, offering companionship, guidance, and support. Prophet The third paradigm is that of prophet, which all too often evokes the image of a wild-eyed eccentric ranting and raving against someone or something. In the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, the prophets (nevi' im) are seers, interpreters of God's activity in the midst of the peo-ple. 13 The prophets see things that others have not seen, cannot see, or refuse to see. Because the prophets are persons of extraordinary faith and commitment to the community, they name the action of God in the midst of the community. In Luke's gospel (2:36-38), for example, the prophet Anna brings the news of the Messiah to those who wait for his coming. She sees, be- ~121~ / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 cause she is a woman of prayer and self-denial, what others have not seen. Like other prophet.s in the Bible, she possesses extraordinary vi-sion. In the Acts of the Apostles (2:4, 17-18; 19:6) and in the Book of Revelation (10:11 and 18:20), we are reminded that on Pentecost the gift of prophetic imagination was renewed by the Holy Spirit and the gift of prophetic vision was given to the community of faith. The disciples saw and heard. And they announced to others the Good News of salvation. More importantly, they exhorted the community to live in the light of the redemption, and they consoled those who were frightened or weary. Their prophetic vision was .their ministry and their gift to the commu-nity of faith, the Church. 14 Gerald Arbuckle says that the refounding of religious life, and per-haps of the Church itself, will be accomplished by persons who possess a charismatically inspired and well-developed imagination. 15 The proph-ets will be those who seek out new ways of doing things. They will be inspired by a prophetic imagination and by the Spirit of God. 16 They will be both intuitive and imaginative. And, at times, they will be misunder-stood by their contemporaries and even by their colleagues, sometimes simply because they will find it difficult to communicate their insights to others, for whom the insights will seem outrageous and ill-advised. 17 Walter Brueggemann, in his book The Prophetic Imagination, points out that the task of prophetic persons, like that of their forebears whose lives are recounted in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, is to nurture and to nourish their communities by evoking a consciousness and a per-ception of reality that is often different from that of the dominant cul-ture. 18 Prophetic persons challenge those within the dominant culture, who are unwilling to go beyond the scope of common sense or the pre-vailing wisdom and who say, "This is the way that we have always done things" or "If it is not broke then do not fix it." The key to cultivating a prophetic vision is to learn and to enhance imaginal skills. Those wanting to develop their imagination must engage in projects and educational experiences that encourage them to search for possibly better ways of doing things than the way they have always been done--even improvements on "common sense." Imaginal skills enable one to generate new ideas and alternative so-lutions. 19 Imaginal skills arise in the interaction between fantasy, emo-tions, and the reflective intellect. These skills allow persons to miniatur-ize, to organize, and to reflect accurately on data gathered from their en-vironment and from the five senses.2° Imaginal skills are acquired some-what differently than instrumental and interpersonal skills. To acquire or Paradigms for Ministry / 329 to develop imaginal skills, women and men must associate and work with other imaginative and creative persons. This, however, requires that cer-tain instrumental and interpersonal skills are firmly in place. Imagina-tion is developed also through attentiveness to, participating in, or ap-preciating the arts. For some, especially for those whose imaginal skills are less well developed, imaginative and creative persons often appear to be flying by the seat of their pants. And in some ways they are. Pro-phetic persons often find little support in their communities because their suggestions seem distant and even frightening to the less imaginative.2~ People commonly criticize persons in their community who are "pains." In reality, those "pains" may be creative and imaginative, but they may lack the necessary skills (instrumental and interpersonal) to communicate with others. Imaginal skills that are necessary for anyone attempting to live out the paradigm of prophet are resourcefulness and experimentation. These skills facilitate progress---even if their attempts sometimes lead to fail-ure. 22 At such times imaginative and creative persons may appear flighty and irresponsible. To prevent avoidable failure, they need to select from the imagined alternatives not only concrete but practical and construc-tive solutions to the problems with which their communities are faced.23 People usually acquire imaginal skills after acquiring instrumental and interpersonal skills because, with instrumental and interpersonal skills, they begin to experience and appreciate their autonomy while still rec-ognizing their connectedness to the community of faith.24 If persons are going to live out the paradigm of prophet, they must possess a prophetic imagination, as well as certain instrumental and in-terpersonal skills. Communities of faith need the gift of prophetic imagi-nation just as much today as at the time of the prophets of old. Shepherd Finally, there is the paradigm of shepherd, which evokes the rustic image of a person with staff in hand leading the sheep down a treacher-ous hillside. The paradigm may seem even more problematic if one re-alizes how dumb sheep really are. Yet in Luke's gospel it was the shep-herds who were among the first to be informed of the Messiah's birth (2:8-20). And in the epistle to the Ephesians (4:1 l) the apostles and their successors, who exercised a ministry of leadership in the community of faith, are referred to as shepherd-leaders ~n the Christian commumty. Gerald Arbuckle notes that leaders in religious congregations, and by analogy in the Church itself, are called to be problem solvers. They must be highly rational and organized persons. They must be able to Iogi- 330 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 cally analyze problems, to take the advice and counsel of others, and to implement the likely solutions.25 Leaders in ministry are called, there-fore, to help create and to share a vision with others, often in consulta-tion and in collaboration with prophetic persons, with servants, and with the great mass of those along their pilgrim way. Leadership in the Church today requires the development of system skills. Leadership requires both an acute sense of the direction in which commu-nities are headed and the ability to help them to get where they should be headed. Yet many persons with these system skills are frustrated. Their psychic and spiritual energies are drained because they face enormous fi-nancial problems and ever increasing personnel issues. Leaders today are expected to keep their communities financially stable and to meet the emo-tional and spiritual needs of the community members. Many leaders spend so much time maintaining the community and its members that they have little time or energy to help create the long-term solutions to the problems. As a friend said recently, "Anyone who yearns for or covets leadership in the Church today deserves to be a leader!" In light of the aforementioned demands, it is reasonable to assume that leaders do not have to be the prophetic or imaginative persons in the community, although a healthy dose of prophetic imagination helps. Lead-ership does require, however, the ability to recognize imaginative and creative solutions to problems and to coordinate the various gifts and skills of the community. System skills require a blend of imagination (imaginal skill), inter-personal sensitivity (interpersonal skill), and instrumental competence (in-strumental skill). System skills enable those who possess them to see how the parts of a community (diocese, religious congregation, parish, or organization) relate to the whole. System skills are not necessarily man-agement skills, although leadership may require a person to be a good manager, to make sound financial decisions (instrumental skill) and to relate well to persons within the system (interpersonal skill). System skills do, however, allow one to plan for change, especially when a change of direction is necessary for the health of the system in question. As Brian Hall says, persons who possess system skills see "the simple unity of it all."26 Shepherd-leaders see the big picture. And they are willing to take the necessary risks that will allow their communities to grow and to pros-per. Shepherd-leaders, because they possess system skills, seldom get trapped by shortsighted and wrongheaded solutions to complex prob-lems. While the solutions they endorse may sound extremely simple, Paradigms for Ministry / 331 even naive, they often embody an inherent wisdom and even God's will and desire for the community itself. An example of a system skill is system recognition, the ability to read the present and future needs of the community.27 At a deeper level, system recognition allows shepherd-leaders to read the signs of the times as they are significant for the community itself. Of course, the challenge to "read the signs of the times" was enunciated at the Second Vatican Council. Pope John XXIII possessed the skills necessary for his pro-phetic and imaginative shepherd-leadership. There is a picture, actually an icon, of Pope John holding a scroll on which the following verse ap-pears: "We are not on earth to guard a museum, but to cultivate a flour-ishing garden of life." The attitude behind that quotation summarizes the attitude with which shepherd-leaders carry out their task. Of course, shepherd-leaders must be able to distinguish between myth and reality, between a bright idea and a right idea.28 System skills allow those who possess them to discern more easily whether the direc-tion in which the system (diocese, congregation, parish, or organization) is headed is in accord with God's will and desire. Persons preparing for or engaged in leadership ministry must learn or develop system skills in order to be shepherd-leaders within their com-munities of faith. It has been said that the paradigm of the shepherd is both outdated and irrelevant. Perhaps, as we put the paradigm into a new context, namely into a system perspective, we can appreciate it in a new way by retrieving its original meaning and beauty, even within a largely nonagrarian culture. Through the Bible and through theology, the Church has been blessed with some very rich paradigms for life and for ministry. These paradigms (pilgrim, servant, prophet, and shepherd), if they are to be lived out in ministry, require the development of certain skills. Practical Conclusions There are some practical conclusions that flow from an understand-ing of the paradigms for ministry that were discussed in this article. First, skill development is sequential. Second, effective ministry requires that skills be identified in and shared among the members of a community. Third, as persons reach a certain level of skill development, they are con-fronted with the need to acquire higher levels of skills in the four skill areas (instrumental, interpersonal, imaginal, and system). Finally, life-long learning and continuing education are required for anyone engaged in ministry today. First, skill development is sequential. Instrumental and interpersonal 3~12 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 skills are developed conjointly. One learns to think and to perform man-ual tasks while learning to relate to other persons in the environment. Dur-ing childhood, for example, we learned to read and write while we learned to relate to others. The process is the same in adulthood, except that the reading, writing, and relating require a higher level of skill de-velopment. Formation programs for ministry in the Church are, hope-fully, teaching those who participate in them theology and the traditions of the Church and of the communities to which they will be sent. They are teaching the participants also to pray. All of these are instrumental skills. Formation programs teach people how to relate to others more ef-fectively and to integrate their lifestyle (married, single, or celibate) into their ministry; these are interpersonal skills. As persons acquire instrumental and interpersonal skills, through for-mal education their energies are directed toward convergent thinking, that is, toward remembering and reproducing what is already known. It is necessary, therefore, to develop within those preparing for ministry the capacity for divergent thinking, which is a requirement for prophetic ministry. 29 Divergent thinking leads to new ideas and new ways of doing things. Gerald Arbuckle describes divergent thinkers as "intrapreneurs," whose task is to revitalize existing corporate cultures (dioceses, congregations, parishes, or religious communities). He describes entrepreneurs as those whose task is to establish new ventures outside the existing corporate struc-ture, yet who have close ties to that structure.3° Intrapreneurs must pos-sess high levels of system skills, and entrepreneurs must possess high lev-els of imaginal skills. In order to be effective, ministers must continue to develop skills in the areas that are appropriate for the ministries in which they are engaged. Second, skills for ministry are most effective when they are shared among a group of persons working cooperatively and collaboratively. As St. Paul said in l Corinthians 12:4-7, "There are different gifts but the same Spirit; there are different ministries but the same Lord." While very few individuals possess notable skill in all of the skill areas, a team of persons may possess all those skills to a notable degree. The more gifted and skilled the collaborators, the more effective their ministry will be. One person, within a group of persons working together, may pos-sess the ability to commit the group's wisdom to paper or even to do some-thing as practical as writing a proposal or a request for a grant. Another person may possess the ability to relate to others in the group and in so Paradigms for Ministry ! 333 doing make the entire team more efficient and effective. Another team member may be imaginative, dreaming up solutions to problems facing the group. Another member may be able to see how the group's activi-ties fit into the overall scheme of the larger community's (diocese, par-ish, or religious congregation) life and mission. The more diverse the skills of the collaborators or coministers, the more efficient and effec-tive their ministry will be. Third, as ministers reach a certain level of skill development, they discover a need to acquire skills at higher levels in order to meet the in-creased demands of their life and ministry. Perhaps some examples will be helpful. Many persons in ministry today find themselves spending time and energy writing talks and proposals. They are learning, there-fore, to use computers and other high-tech communication equipment-- which, of course, requires them to develop more sophisticated instrumen-tal skills. It is also necessary today, especially for those engaged in ministry or in religious life, to become more skilled participants in meetings and in other group endeavors. This requires the development of better inter-personal skills. As ministers plan for their own corporate ministry and for ministering within their communities, there is an increasing need for persons with imaginal and system skills to be working with their col-leagues in ministry. Persons in ministry today must, then, bring to their cooperative en-deavors their own skills and talents. With those skills and talents, the ef-forts of the ministering community will be successful; without them those efforts may be in vain. Finally, if the skills needed to meet the inc.reasing demands of min-istry are to be developed, persons engaged in or preparing for ministry must make a commitment to lifelong learning. Perhaps congregations of men and women religious were the first to recognize this fact and to de-velop continuing-education programs for their members. Today dioceses are developing programs for the continuing education of priests and dea-cons, as well as formation programs and continuing-education programs for nonordained persons in ministry. Persons in ministry do value and use the continuing-education and formation programs at their disposal in order to meet the demands made upon them in the Church in particular and in society at large. Our theological and biblical heritage contains a wealth of paradigms for life and for ministry. We are pilgrims on a journey of faith. We are called to care for one another along that journey. We are invited to dis- 334/Review for Religious, May-June 1991 cern the movement of God's Spirit in our midst as we journey. Finally, we are commissioned to be shepherd-leaders. May our communities of faith be blessed with pilgrims, servants, prophets, and shepherd-leaders skilled enough to build up the body, the Church, and to usher in the reign of God. NOTES I Michael T. Winstanley's article "The Shepherd Image in the Scriptures: A Para-digm for Ministry" (Clergy Review 71 [June 1986]: 197-206), which focuses on the paradigm of shepherd from a biblical perspective, was an inspiration for the class presentation that elicited the student's observation. Winstanley's presentation of the shepherding image invited reflection on the skills that are necessary in order to put that image into practice. That reflection raised the issue of the need to put other equally helpful paradigms into a contemporary context. 2 I am using both prophet and shepherd as gender-inclusive words. 3 The biblical quotations in this article are from the New American Bible. 4 Xavier L6on-Dufour, Dictionary of the New Testament, trans. Terrence Prender-gast (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1980), p. 324. 5 C.S. Lewis, The Pilgrim's Regress (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1944), pp. 15f. 6 lbid, p. 193. 7 Brian P. Hall, The Genesis Effect (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), pp. 99f. 8 L6on-Dufour, p. 368. 9 Karl Rahner, Servants of the Lord (Montreal: Palm Publishers, 1968), p. 6. 10 Hall, p. 100. 11 Anne Wilson Schaef, The Addictive Organization (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988), p. 96. 12 lbid, p. 100. 13 John E. Steinmueller and Kathryn Sullivan, R.S.C.J., Catholic Biblical Encyclo-pedia (New York: Joseph F. Wagner, 1950), p. 527. i,~ L~on-Dufour, p. 338. 15 Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Out of Chaos: Refounding Religious Congregations (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), p: 1. 16 lbid, p. 14. 17 Ibid, pp. 30f. 18 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 13. 19 Hall, p. 100. 20 Janet Kalven, Larry Rosen, and Bruce Taylor, Value Development: A Practical Guide (New York: Paulist Press, 1982), p. 23. 2~ Arbuckle, pp. 30f. 26 Hall, p. 147. 22 Kalven et al., p. 26. 27 Kalven et al., p. 31. 23 Ibid. 28 Ibid. 24 Hall, p. 143. 29 Kalven et al., p. 125. 25 Arbuckle, p. 31. 30 Arbuckle, p. 33. The Ministry of BEing M. Charleen Hug, S.N.D. Sister Mary Charleen Hug, S.N.D., wrote "Celibacy: Gift of a Woman's Love" for our issue of September/October 1988. Her address is 3837 Secor Road; Toledo, Ohio 43623. What an exciting age for apostolic women religious! Never before in the history of the Church have there been so many diverse ministries open to them. My people are homeless, shelter them. My people are starving, feed them. My people are oppressed, unshackle them. My people are ignorant, teach them. The lure is there. The challenge is there. The need is there. Called and sent, committed and dedicated to the cause for peace and justice, women religious now head health clinics, retreat centers. They serve in parish ministry, as pastoral associates. They are found in class-rooms, in the mission fields, in hospices for the terminally ill. They are chairpersons on national committees and help staff diocesan offices. They are participants in marches for the plight of the homeless and in protest against nuclear buildup. They take their stand against abortion, racism, and the arms race. They are engaged in all of these ministries and more. More, because there will always be the more. With the two talents I give you, says Jesus in a parable, go and make two more; with five barley loaves and two fish, feed the five thousand; all that I have done, so will you do---all this and even more! In return for the more I will reward even a cup of cold water given in my name, says Jesus. Our present age takes this more seriously, for it is the age of minis- 335 336 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 try. One more act of service to perform, one more cause to support, one more lesson to prepare, one more meeting to attend. The global village is shrinking. Impersonal people "out there" have become our brothers and sisters with very real needs that we can no longer ignore. Address-ing these needs in Jesus' name in view of the gifts and abilities with which we have been blessed is what Christian ministry is all about. For the deeply committed religious it would seem at times that this very min-istry sustains, as though that were part of the hundredfold promised. This is indeed a very blessing because experience soon proves that no matter how many ministries we take on, no matter how effectively and effi-ciently we labor, there will always be the more that is needed--more that cries out to us for fulfillment. Without great vigilance on our part we can all too readily fall into the do-list trap of evaluating the seeming "suc-cess" and "failure" of any given day by the number of items we have managed to cross off our daily list come nightfall. Because continuous do-ing drains, our present age calls apostolic women religious just as loudly to the ministry basic to all ministries, the ministry without which all do-ing becomes meaningless, empty, namely the ministry of be-ing. This ministry will be neither underwritten nor ig-nored without serious consequences not only to do-ing, but also to all that we are. Is it because the ministry of be-ing is so basic to who we are in essence that we rarely take heed of it? Do we take it so for granted that we fail to provide the time and solitude necessary to cultivate, nour-ish, and cherish it? How often, amidst all of our do-ing, do we set aside time to praise and thank God for this ministry for which each person quali-fies, in which each person can excel? In solitude the truth of "what you do flows from who you are" takes in-depth meaning. In solitude we look to Jesus, for whom, to whom, through whom we minister. In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God and the Word was God . Through him all things came to be, not one thing had its be-ing but through him .The Word was made flesh and lived among us. (John 1:1, 14). The Word had so brief a time in which to perform the greatest min-istry this world would ever know. In the span of just thirty-three years Jesus had to be the fulfillment of the entire Old Testament, make his Fa-ther known and loved, and secure the redemption of every soul his Fa-ther would love into life. Given this ministry Jesus chose to devote the first thirty of these years to the ministry of be-ing God-made-man. When his active apostolic ministry did commence, "I AM!" identified who he was and why he "dwelt among us." He showed himself to be bread for The Ministry of BEing the hungry, drink for the thirsty, comfort for the sorrowing, compassion for the sinner, friend of simple souls, rest for the weary, light in the dark-ness, perfect image of the Father, I AM the way, the truth, the life. That Jesus' mission of be-ing was misunderstood by those to whom he minis-tered is evidenced by those who jeered. What good are you doing hanging there! Come down from the cross and do! There are still illnesses that need to be healed, sins that need to be forgiven, lessons that need to be taught, so much that we still do not un-derstand. Come down from the cross and do! By remaining on the cross Jesus became the supreme example of the relationship between be-ing and do-ing. It was in be-ing the sacrifical Lamb of God that all do-ing for all time would take on eternal value. By be-ing Resurrection and the Life he gave to each person (as inheritance!) eternal be-ing with the Father! Each of us is a be-ing created in the im-age of the Father! To remain true to this essence it is paramount that, in the midst of and because of all the ministries that demand our do-ing, we spend ample time daily in solitude. Then, while "surrounded on all sides by the crowds," as 'Jesus was, we, too, will know when someone has "touched us." We, too, will experience that "something has gone forth from [us]." Someone has called forth from "who we are" the very reason "that we are." We will discover why we are there: why we are there; why we are there amidst that particular crowd of people. In soli-tude we come to see that it is not sufficient that we praise God through our ministry; we long to be his praise. It is not sufficient that we thank God; we long to be his thanksgiving. We are not content to spread his goodness; we desire to be his goodness. It is not enough that we speak to others of his beauty; we long to be a tiny part of that beauty--and of that peace, that joy, that love! Such subtleties are not gleaned in the mar-ketplace. When it comes time for the belt that Jesus said would be tied around our waist leading us to where we would rather not go (see Jn 21 : 18), thus perhaps ending our ministry of do-ing, even if temporarily, we will em-brace that "belt." In the midst of our do-ing we will have sensitized our-selves to hear a Voice beckoning us: Be daughter of the Father, special possession of the Son, bride of the Spirit. Be she in whom the Father delights, she for whom the heavens were made. Be home of the Trinity, safekeeping for the kept secrets of the King. Be she whom the Father surrounds with his presence, enfolds with his tender love. Be faithful daughter of holy Mother the Church. Be an altar for the offering of a sacrifice of pure love, praise, and Review for Religious, May-June 1991 reverence to God. Be the dove sheltered in the clefts of the rocks, long-ing to see the face of God. Be garden enclosed, the fountain sealed. Be the fire set ablaze that Christ came to cast upon the earth. The Voice beckons further extending our parameters: My people are victims of injustice, be their righteousness. My people are suffering from painful diseases, be their relief. My people are lonely and without a shepherd, be their friend. My people are killing each other, be the peace between them. Be the missionary you always longed to be, spreading the joyful mes-sage that the kingdom of God is here, now. Be witness of the fidelity of a merciful God who loves jealously, passionately, infinitely. Be a bea-con of hope to those whose light has grown dim. Be a wounded healer by gathering up the pain of the world and offering it to the Father. Be a caring, compassionate, companion on the journey. Be for those en-trusted to you, those who depend on your be-ing. Be all things to all peo-ple. As in the case of the ministry of do-ing the ministry of be-ing like-wise demands the more, the infinitely more. More joy, more love, more peace, more patience . The more we embrace this ministry, the more it will embrace us. The more perceptive we become to living this minis-try, the more fully alive we become. The more we treasure this minis-try, the more it becomes our priceless treasure. It is an inexhaustible min-istry with inexhaustible fringe benefits just waiting to be claimed. The ministry of be-ing can be the pledge, the promise, and the prized pos-session of every apostolic woman religious. It is this reality that makes the present age an exciting one indeed in which to minister! Religious Life and Modernity Albert Dilanni, S.M. Father Dilanni taught philosophy for thirteen years, served as provincial of the North-east Province (U.S.A.) for six years, and has been vicar general of the Marist Fa-thers since 1985. His address is: Padri Maristi; Via Alessandro Poerio, 63; 00152 Roma, Italy. There are many ways of describing what has happened in the last twenty-five years since Vatican II. Historians say that there has been a shakeout after each ecumenical council and that approximately twenty-five years are required for the spirit of a council to take root and bear its best fruit. Commentators on the development of religious life since Vatican II seem to concur in this. They now present this development in three stages: (1) the rigidity prior to Vatican II, (2) the immediate chaos after Vatican II, and (3) the current period of sober reassessment with its talk of refoun-dation. Some CARA consultants name these stages Paradigms I, II, and III. Vatican II was an effort in openness and aggiornamento. Its changes were radical. The council recognized the ecclesial reality of other Chris-tian religions, opened the way to dialogue with non-Christian religions, took a radically new position on religious freedom, realized the independ-ent goodness of the secular world, called for a renewal of the liturgy and of religious life, recognizing that through baptism the laity are called to the same degree of holiness as priests and religious. All very heady at the time, exhilarating and in many ways very posi-tive and productive. Vatican II brought the Church face-to-face with the world and urged it to view it in its glory as well as its weakness. I do not think anyone really wants to go back. But even Vatican II had its shadow side. One of its results was that Catholicism in general and re-ligious life in particular seemed less important. When personal con- 339 ~141~ / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 science was exalted, when sin and hell were deemphasized in favor of love and heaven, when the great enemies of Protestant theology were quoted side by side with Rahner and Lonergan, when many distinctions were blurred and the Catholic ghetto vanished--there was no longer a dragon to kill. Now, while enemies, distinctions, ghettos, and dragons are not always eminently desirable, they did provide one thing: identity. Their removal was a major r.ea.son why the principal question exercising the Church and religious congregations since Vatican II has been ad nau-seam the question of identity. What does it mean to be a Catholic, a re-ligious, a Jesuit, a Carmelite, a Marist? But the identity question had other nonecclesiastical sources. The post-Vatican II world found itself engulfed in a cultural upheaval which it did not cause. Religious congregations were not simply surrounded by a materialistic and skeptical culture, they were immersed in it. It had in-filtrated the convent walls. Tillard says that the failure of enthusiasm, passion, and wholeheartedness apparent in religious is rooted in a shift in belief, a hesitancy of faith. Walter Kasper has remarked that what we combat today is not only an external atheism, but an atheism within our own hearts. Cultural modernity has been analyzed and reanalyzed as the on-slaught of secularization. ~ It was as if in the second half of our century the Enlightenment had reached the masses. What up to the present were ideas of intellectuals, philosophers, and cranky atheists, now, due to bet-ter communication and general education, became the fabric of culture at large. The well-documentated cultural revolution which has been play-ing itself out since the 1960s seemed to be a quantitative expansion of ideas which had been around since the eighteenth century. But Paul Ricoeur underlines that the Enlightenment has passed through two distinct stages. We might even speak of a first and second Enlightenment, that of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the different one which began in the nineteenth and flowered in the twenti-eth century. Both began with doubt, methodic doubt, but the first went back to consciousness and found certitude, while the second in returning to con-sciousness found only suspicion. Descartes began by doubting everything methodically, but banished doubt because he believed we could find a place of certitude in consciousness. Even doubting was a form of think-ing, and the one thing I could .not doubt was that "I think." Cogito, ergo sum. At the center of consciousness was a source of clarity and dis-tinctness (les idles claires et distinctes), a way of banishing skepticism Religious Life and Modernity about the existence of the world or the truth of morality. Thus the first Enlightenment was characterized by an exaltation of the human subject and an overconfidence in a certain type of reason. Its champion was Kant, for whom the subject in the act of knowing became a partial crea-tor of the object known. But the second Enlightenment, grounded in Marx, Freud, and Nietzsche, was quite different. Commencing similarly with scientific me-thodical doubt, these thinkers also turned to the conscious and thinking subject but found there not a place of certitude but another ground for suspicion. For them human consciousness turned out to be a creator of illusions, the fabricator of masks, the great pretender. Consciousness it-self was in need of unmasking. This is the case especially when it con-cocts religions. Religion was the deception par excellence. It was an opium creating lassitude among oppressed peoples (Marx), it was a col-lective obsessive neurosis (Freud), it was a cover for a will to power pres-ent in the hearts of the weak and envious (Nietzsche). Leaving aside the fine nuance present in their systems, we can say that for these thinkers consciousness spins illusory language about God to hide what men and women really desire: sexual gratification, wealth, and power. This modern atheism, the atheism of consciousness as pretender, has with legitimacy been called a "beautiful" atheism. It has an ethical side and bears a moral, attraction. It is born of the desire to avoid masks and pretensions. The modem atheist is an atheist because he does not want to remain in a false consciousness. He wants to be honest; he does not want to tell a lie. The great modern drive, the drive of the second En-lightenment is to be authentic, not to worship an idol. For this reason, too, its geniuses Freud, Marx, and Nietzsche can present themselves as moralists. This is why Sartre can present belief in God as bad faith. Con-sciousness, in the second Enlightenment, is the escape artist, the artful dodger. Consciousness reaches salvation when it strives to catch itself at its own artifices. In light of this we can explain two moral phenomena which have oc-curred in our lifetime. First, the fact that, for many people of the twen-tieth century, hypocrisy became the great sin and sincerity the great vir-tue. (This has been documented by Lionel Trilling.) It was hypocrisy not to admit who and what you were. If you were gay, you must say it. If you were committing adultery, you must admit it. Being moral meant coming out of various closets. But unfortunately many people failed to ask the question whether acting out according to the instincts of these closets was good or bad. Some decided that anything was allowed as :342 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 long as you owned up to it. Others, plagued by a secret guilt, tried to have everyone approve whht they were doing privately; they wanted their private morality publicly sanctioned. The other phenomenon characteristic of the second Enlightenment was that contemporary thinkers were more interested in meaning than in truth. This explains the death of apologetics in the last twenty-five years. Hugo Meynell bemoans the fact that the last real apologist was C.S. Le-wis. Today, he complains, theologians are more concerned to show that Christianity is relevant. What floods the market is writing on the social and political implications of Christianity, or on its power to lead us to a fuller and more authentic personal life. Admitting the importance of such writing, he believes, nevertheless, that a serious apologetic which looks beyond meaning to truth is absolutely indispensable for the Church and that many of its present ills are due to a neglect of it. Without a proper apologetics, says Meynell, "the unbeliever is apt to infer that edu-cated Christians have really grasped the fact that social reform, political action, and psychic hygiene are that to which religious aspiration ought to be directed."2 Related to this move from truth to meaning is the fact that for the last twenty years seminarians, both religious and diocesan, have unchar-acteristically manifested a distaste for intellectual argument. Even some of the most intelligent tended to shun involvement in debates about the truth and falsity of moral positions or thorny dogmatic issues like the in-terpretation of the Resurrection, and were satisfied if they were con-vinced that a particular doctrine of the Church held some meaning for people. More and more religious showed up on the Myers-Briggs test as feelers and not thinkers. Brought up in an Enlightenment of suspicion, they suspected intestinally that the search for truth is impossible and that the different philosophies are simply a parade of ideologies with no cri-terion for discerning which is right and which is wrong. This is prob-ably the deep side of the vocation crisis among the youth of the second Enlightenment. If consciousness suspects its very self and its powers, how can it commit itself to anything for a long-term future? Ricoeur believes that we must face head-on what he calls the "her-meneutics of suspicion." We must take seriously its originators and think-ers and recognize their contribution. We cannot return to a primitive naivet6. But he also insists that we cannot remain in a state of denial, in a vacuum of truth, in mere negation; we must move to a second naivet6, we must move to a new place of affirmation. In order to do this we must not only respect the creators of suspicion but also question Religious Life and Modernity them. We must suspect the suspicioners and put them to the test. We must transcend the Enlightenment in both its phases. We will not achieve this by attempting to return to a consciousness conceived of as pure thought, to a thinking self which is sufficient unto itself apart from the world. For contemporary philosophy such a move is impossible. Consciousness can only be encountered as already in and of the world. The only way to discover what the human mind or human consciousness is like is through an examination of the works it has strewn in the world down the centuries, that is, through an examination of the institutions and documents of culture. Ricoeur bets that after such a re-flection the scandal of the cross will remain as much a scandal for mod-ern consciousness as it was for an earlier consciousness. He bets that the scandal of the cross will be discovered to be transcultural, a scandal not merely for humans in one stage of history, but for the human condition as such. For the modern age, theology's method has itself changed. We do not go immediately to the transcendent, to God, to the sacred and then try to relate God to the world. We find God through the world; we dis-cover the transcendent as the depth of the world. We seek an incarna-tional approach to eschatology and transcendence. We try to find God within the world as the Creative Moment therein, as the source without which justice and equality, as absolute moral imperatives, lack motiva-tion and a rational ground. The Enlightenment andthe Redefinition of Religious Life Whether we consider it in its first or second phase, the Enlighten-ment is marked by the same ideals, the dethroning of authority and tra-dition in favor of reason, free thought, and humanistic brotherhood. The ideals of both Enlightenments can be summarized most easily in the slo-gan of the French Revolution whose 200th anniversary we celebrated in 1989: liberty, fraternity, and equality. It was onto these very three ideals that religious life fastened almost in sequence after Vatican II in an effort to redefine itself, to forge a new identity. It had to deal with them as reinforced by the genius of Nietzsche, Freud, and Marx. Note that these ideals are mirror-imaged in the three vows and are in a sense the concern of the vows: (liberty) obe-dience, (fraternity) chastity, and (equality) poverty. The first of the Enlightenment ideals to make dramatic entrance into our culture and religious life was the ideal of personal or individual free-dom (its hero, Nietzsche). Never in a general culture had the notion "I want x" enjoyed such power as a reason for morally justifying an ac- ~144 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 tion. In an earlier climate of opinion, the fact that someone strongly de-sired something rendered suspect his or her opinion about it. In this ear-lier climate it was because an issue like abortion was so important that it could not be decided principally by the person who was subjectively involved. She could hardly have an objective viewpoint. But now it was precisely because an issue was so important that it must be left up to in-dividual choice. Major books have been written documenting and decry-ing this shift to individualistic freedom: Mclntyre's After Virtue, Allan Bloom's The Closing of the American Mind, and Robert Bellah's Habits of the Heart. Some of its critics distinguish between a liberal spirit which is admirable in its pursuit of discussion and exchange of ideas, and a lib-eral dogma which in its exaggerations is pernicious because it has not allowed us to build a community upon agreed societal values. Enlightenment freedom and its individualism invaded religious life in the 60s and early 70s. The major concern of seminarians and religious of that era was self-fulfillment and the idea that they could not be ful-filled unless they made their own choices about lifestyle and ministry. This was also the age when many seminarians refused to kneel down in chapel and to acknowledge any difference between themselves and their professors. Their slogan was that of the youth culture of the sixties: "Don't trust anyone over thirty!" Articles on religious obedience ap-pearing in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS at the time had less to do with the su-perior's authority as representing God or as the leader of a group engaged in a religious cause, than with how he or she should be a caring person or a listener attentive to the needs of community members. The second Enlightenment ideal used in the attempted redefinition of religious life was the ideal of fraternity interpreted as intimacy (its hero, Freud; its favorite book, Fromm's The Art of Loving). In the 70s fraternity came to the fore in the form of the need for intimacy and com-munity. Some felt that religion itself was a projection of affective needs. Everyone seemed sure that, without at least psychological sexual rela-tions, you could not really develop as a person. A good number left re-ligious life while they were still nubile in the conviction that the Church would soon wake up and change the rules. Others adopted what for a brief time was called the "third way," that is, remaining somewhat celi-bate while dating. All of this was later exacerbated by the gay movement and the inability of some to realize that, whatever one might think of ho-moerotic relations in general, all religious, whether homosexually or heterosexually oriented, had taken the same vow. Those who chose to remain and to keep the vows fought for a more Religious Life and Modernity / 345 fraternal and intimate form of community life and began using the word "sharing" as an intransitive verb. "Sharing" went on till the wee hours of the morning. "Thanks for sharing" and a big hug seemed to end every conversation, even a conversation in which a provincial had in no uncertain terms said, "No.t'' For all its positive aspects, this age of individualistic freedom and of fraternity/intimacy/community was "the era of the divided heart." It was a time, not entirely past, in which many of us, ~11 of us to some degree, were sidetracked, distracted, not completely present to the task, unhappy. For many religious, life became not so much a vocation as an avocation. They did good work and were not completely disinterested in the religious community, but their treasure, their compelling interest seemed to be elsewhere. They did not realize it at the time and cannot be blamed, but absorbed in themselves, jettisoning traditional practices without replacing them with new communal structures, they were sap-ping the energy of the group. It was in subconscious reaction to this drift that there appeared in re-ligious- life circles the talk about the need for a shared vision or a com-mon sense of mission. Much effort went into writing mission statements which everyone signed and accepted mutteringly in paraliturgical cere-monies. But there was an unexamined assumption in writing such mis-sion declarations, the assumption that everyone wanted a common vi-sion. Though there has always been a degree of pluralism and confusion in the Church, what seemed different now was that some religious seemed almost to welcome the confusion. They gave up the search for a shared vision not simply because it is hard to attain, but because in a deep sense they did not want one. It may be a hard saying, but I believe it is true that many of us, all of us to some degree, did not desire a true unity of mind and vision, at least not one which was set down in great detail, one which invaded and interfered with our life. The third ideal of the French Revolution and Enlightenment to enter religious life in the time of attempted redefinition was that of equality (its hero, Marx). It was the same ideal which gave rise to liberation the-ology and to the preferential option for the poor. It came strongly to the fore in the 80s. Beginning with the 33rd General Congregation of Jesu-its it thundered into religious life under the title of faith and justice. So-cial analysis and peace-and-justice committees soon became the vogue. Religious, male and female, left long-standing apostolates in education and hospitals and went to work among the poor and oppressed of both the third and first worlds. Soon the movement became involved with jus- 346 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 tice questions within the Church as well as the world, in the first as well as the third world. Now suddenly every question was interpreted princi-pally in terms of the power-equality schema. Everywhere there was talk of the need for assertiveness, the tactics of confrontation, the evil of pa-triarchy, the lucha de clases. Not just politics but a liberal politics was brought to the center of religion and religious life. At Boston College in 1984 the Jesuit historian John Padberg said, "It must be admitted that from a historical point of view many of the changes which have taken place in feminine religious communities do not derive from Vatican II, but from the secular feminist movement." I believe that these attempted redefinitions of religious life have all failed because religious have remained at a superficial level in thinking about freedom, fraternity, and equality. In their general thrust these new values are wonderful and exhilarating and are here to stay. But they must be retrieved in their Christian depth and meaning. Secularization and the Return of Religion We are in a polarization situation in the Church today, liberals against conservatives. This can be documented by reading any theologi-cal review or religious newspaper. Avery Dulles, in fact, discerns four quasi-ideologies in the Church, liberal, traditionalist, neoconservative, and radical.3 Signs of the resistance appear not only in a growing funda-mentalism in Church practice, but in the "postliberal" or "postmod-ern" stances in academic theology championed by men like Lindbeck, Huston Smith, and Stanley Hauerwas. The resistance is also apparent in the area of religious and priestly vocations. In the entire industrialized world it is the progressive orders which continue to experience a decline, while conservative congregations enjoy substantial increases. But what is not understood is that the very fact of the polarization has a religious meaning. It means that modernity cannot be understood as a single phenomenon of ongoing secularization. There is something else occurring. The evident resistance to a liberal secularism hints at the possibility of a great reversal, a move to a higher synthesis. Many have been willing to see a religious significance in seculariza-tion. They interpret it as the desire to be authentic, to be rid of idols, to avoid at all costs the telling of a lie. But is there not also a deep mean-ing to the liberal/conservative split and the rise of fundamentalism and neoconservatism? Is this not also a sign of the times? It seems simplistic to view the resistance to tendencies which have been the vogue since Vati-can II as a mere knee-jerk reaction, a neurotic flight to security in the face of a secularized world. The very fact of these countermovements Religious Life and Modernity / 347 has a religious sense. It reveals, among other things, that modern men and women still recognize the presence of mystery and transcendence and feel that without it liberty, fraternity, and equality remain superfi-cial and, in the end, stifling. In an article entitled "Can the West be Converted?" Leslie Newbigin, the famous Anglican missionary to India, asks: Can there be an effective missionary encounter with this culture--this so powerful, per-suasive, and confident culture which (at least until very recently) simply regarded itself as "the coming world civilization"? He bemoans as excessive the criticism of the nineteenth-century mis-sionary on the part of socially-minded Christians, and disagrees with drop-ping the term "foreign missions" in favor of "overseas ministries" or "cross-cultural ministry." Says Newbigin: "The contemporary embar~ rassment about the missionary movement of the previous century is not, as we like to think, evidence that we have become more humble. It is, I fear, much more clearly evidence of shift in belief. It is evidence that we are less ready to affirm the uniqueness, the centrality, the decisive-ness of Jesus Christ as universal Lord and Savior, the Way by following whom the world is to find its true goal, the Truth by which every other claim to truth is to be tested, the Life in whom alone life in its fullness is to be found."4 Instead of weighing the Christian religious experience in the scale of reason as our culture understands reason, let us suppose, says Newbigin, that the Gospel is true; that, in the story of the Bible and in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus, the Creator and Lord of the universe has actually manifested himself to declare and effect his pur-pose; and that, therefore, everything else, including all the actions and assumptions of our culture, has to be assessed and can only be validly assessed in the scales which this revelation provides. What would it mean if, instead of trying to understand the gospel from the point of view of our culture, we tried to understand our culture from the point of view of the gospel? Rabbi Abraham Heschel said something similar when addressing theo-logians at a conference on the future of theology: "It has always seemed puzzling to me how greatly attached to the Bible you seem to be and yet how much like pagans you handle it. The great challenge to those of us who wish to take the Bible seriously is to let it teach us its own essential categories; and then for us to think with them, instead of just about them."5 Something new is stirring, something new striving to be born. A sig- 3411 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 nificant group of theologia.ns is reaching for a postliberal stance which might feed the hunger for truth and a deeper meaning which exists in America. Professor Huston Smith puts it as follows: "While the West's 'brain,' which for present purposes we can equate with the modern uni-versity, rolls ever further down the reductionistic path, other centers of society--our emotions, for example, as they find expression through our artists and our wills. --protest. These other centers of ourselves feel they are being dragged, kicking and screaming, down an ever-darken-ing tunnel."6 The first world turns to suicide, drugs, and hooliganism because of a lack of meaning in the lives of its members. Culture is the meaning system of society. According to some sociologists, religion is the deep-est aspect of that meaning system. But the religion which remains in West-ern society is impoverished. The religion of our secularized cultures is highly intellectualized, pared down, devoid of mystery and passion. Mys-teries are embarrassments and explained away reductively. Modern churches look like banks. In many Catholic churches statues of saints are either banished or shrunken to stand sheepishly in shadowy corners. Lit-tle remains of the sense of an invisible reality beyond the material one, of a grand communion of saints, of Blake's "infinity in a grain of sand" and "eternity in an hour." And what has sprung up in the desert of modernity? The so-called "pipeline religion" of charismatics and Pentecostals, a revival of an emo-tional type of prayer with a need for a personal attachment to Jesus ex-pressed emotionally and publicly, the ministry of healing in sum, the desire for a backdrop to life, a deeper dimension, an invisible world; the need once again to feel that God is near and that we are able to commune with him; the need for a God who is transcendent as well as immanent. We desire the divine face of Jesus as well as the human face of God. The pendulum swings of the Christological debates of the early Church are again in evidence. The third redefinition of religious life in terms of equality and jus-tice is an improvement over the first two redefinitions in terms of liberty and fraternity, especially where these are interpreted as individualistic freedom and a sentimentalized intimacy/community. Individualism can-not form community. Nor can we religious be merely intimiste in our spiri-tuality. We cannot be satisfied with simply voicing our affections of love toward others or even for the Lord. Love must be active, social, and even political. Christians cannot concentrate solely on their own salvation whether earthly or celestial. "What would the Lord say," asked Char- Religious Life and Modernity / 349 les P6guy, "if we go to him without all the others?" On the other hand, this third effort to redefine ourselves and discover a lost identity was (is) in some ways more seductive, more liable to be-come an idol, for in itself it is strongly rooted in the Gospel and demands great sacrifice. The quest for social justice is "a constitutive part" of the Gospel, says an oft-quoted text of the 1971 Synod of Bishops. But it, too, has its shadow side. It was an improvement because it took the focus off of the individual subject, the I, but it was not sufficient because it replaced the individual subject with another earthly subject, the spe-cies subject, Marx's Gattungswesen, or with a part of society, the poor, the oppressed of the human species. To define religious life principally in terms of social justice is to make the Marxian move of replacing re-ligion with the need to foster a truly socialized man and woman. While fear of idolatry caused men of earlier ages to set God above the world and beyond all images, the danger of idolatry returns a hun-dredfold when we look for him within the bowels of the world. Some will call this double-talk and say they will have nothing to do with liberation, equality, compassion, and the betterment of people. But such a conclusion does not follow from what I am saying. Just the oppo-site is true. Unless we live in light of the truth that the world belongs to God and that its primary duty is to praise him in gratitude for what has been given, we cannot even begin to construct a world of justice. Unless we see that God is first and creator and that the human is second and created, we cannot find any basis for human equality or for treating everyone with justice and care. Evolutionists turned philosophers say that humans are equal only by the accident that a group of beings with about the same size brain flow-ered at a certain period of time. As a result these thinkers can find no ground for the moral imperative of justice. Such an imperative appears only when and if we view humans as having a relationship to an Abso-lute whose essence is Love. Humans have a dignity not because they hap-pen to have a complex brain which gives them a kind of free will, but because they are loved and because the very meaning of their being is to love as the Father loves. As Martin Buber has said, whoever makes freedom the primary characteristic of humans is blind to the real nature of human existence which is "being sent and a being commissioned."7 It is because God's love for us does not rise out of a personal need but is gratuitous, that the universe has meaning and that social justice is an imperative. In this discovery we will find true freedom. For the God of the absolute future is a God of plenitude who does not enslave nor ~150 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 brook enslavement. Contemporary thinkers are obsessed by the thought that dualisms must be overcome at all cost, that all distinctions must be leveled, the natural and the supernatural, laity and clergy, Church and world. In this same vein, because of the doctrine that all are called to the same degree of holiness in baptism, they tend to believe that the distinction between laity and religious cannot ultimately be maintained. But in counteract-ing dualisms we must be careful not to submerge certain important dis-tinctions. There may be other distinctions between religious life and lay life which are .not connected with the call to holiness shared in baptism. Religious, I believe, are called to a different kind of separation from the world. Religious must be not above or beyond the world, nor seek to escape its toils. BUt yes, their life must be distinct and separate by tak-ing up the very different lifestyle of a pilgrim as did the apostles, not remaining at home but accompanying Jesus on the way. Again, if a religious must be a prophet, as many commentators urge, then he or she must be different from others in the way that a prophet is different from those to whom he or she prophesies. The prophet is one who shows the way. Religious must teach by their life that all Christians must be in the world but not of the world, that their greatness will not spring from surrender to the values of the world. Without a distinction between religious and laity the significance and identity of a truly Chris-tian laity may also be in danger of being lost. Something new is being born: a higher synthesis. It will consist es-sentially in a rewinning for human consciousness the sense of the tran-scendent and a new understanding of what is meant by a separation from the world. The problem of the third world is poverty; the problem of the first world is paganism. The third world retains the sense of the transcen-dent, though the embrace may at times be cluttered with emotion and su-perstitions and not translate into social action. The first world has in many cases simply given up the embrace. And in doing so it finds no adequate ground for love of neighbor, enemy, or stranger. Earlier spirituality taught that only in recognizing God's sovereignty can we avoid pride. It is through the same recognition that we will be-come compassionate and work for justice. True kenosis lies in the reali-zation that all humans--poor or rich, woman or man, ourselves or oth-ers- are of secondary importance. What is of prime importance is be-yond. But the God beyond sends us back to the world whose inhabitants he loves unconditionally as individual persons and as societies. He places upon us the moral imperative of justice and the command of love. Religious Life and Modernity Through a relationship with the Lord established in prayer, the extent of our task as Christians will be revealed. In transcendence we will redis-cover immanence. Modernity and its religious need again to ponder the words of the psalmist: "In your light we shall see light." NOTES I In support of a minority dissenting position, see Andrew Greeley and Michael Hout, "The secularisation myth," The Tablet, June 10, 1989, pp. 665-667. 2 "Faith and Reason," The Tablet, March I 1, 1989, p. 276. 3 See "Catholicism and American Culture," America, January 27, 1990, pp. 54- 59. 4 International Bulletin of Missionary Research, April 1988, p. 51. 5 Quoted by Prof. Albert Outler, "Toward a Post-liberal Hermeneutics," Theology Today, October 1985, p. 290. 6 Toward the Post-Modern Mind (Crossroad, 1982), p. 25. 7 Martin Buber, The Eclipse of God (Harper and Row, 1962), p. 69. A Celibate Dialogues with God I asked God: "Must I be my last and only word? Will this who-I-am be heard no more when I am dead? Who will know what I have said? Who will weave my melody into their song or hum at least my harmonies along with theirs? Who will? Who will?" And God said: "Peace. Be still." Irene Zimmerman, S.S.S.F. 3601 South 41 Street Milwaukee, Wl 53221 Focus: The Mission William F. Hogan, C.S.C. Father William Hogan, C.S.C., wrote "Chapters and Structures" for our issue of January/February 1989. His address remains Fratelli Cristiani; Via della Maglian-ella 375; 00166 Roma, Italy. Mission is the most written about concept in religious institutes and it sets the tone of most revised constitutions. Furthering the mission of Jesus in today's world has provided the framework for renewal programs and processes in communities of the consecrated life. The concerns that pre-occupy us affect our lives in many ways, providing an overall orienta-tion for judgments, the determination of choices, the perception of life and reality, the measurement of problems. And yet, all too often con-cern for the mission is not carried over into the nitty-gritty of daily life; we can find in ourselves a gap between the intellectual approach to mis-sion and what motivates our actual responses in concrete situations. Con-tradictions can abound in our human persons! The morale of many religious today is deeply affected by dwindling numbers, aging, and the lack of new members to carry on the life and work. Some give in to discouragement and the tendency to pull in on self; survival looms as a major concern and the scope of vision becomes quite narrow. Surely the Lord does not want a yielding to inclinations along this line because they are contrary to the tenor of the Gospel, which would focus our attention with largeness of heart and vision on the mis-sion of Jesus and the call to live, be, and do in response to the mission today, no matter what. The Christian must be an apostolic person in all the phases and situations of life with their ups and downs. It is understandable that there be a human reaction of preoccupation with self-preservation and self-survival, given the innate drive for the self 352 Focus: The Mission / 353 to live on and the desire to continue a form of life in which one believes. At the same time we must confront within ourselves some very real is-sues, the most basic of which centers around whose mission it is we are called to serve. This is the struggle of God and the "me," the struggle with which we have to cope in one way or another all through life, the struggle of sinfulness. "Your thoughts are not my thoughts, nor my ways your ways" (Is 55:8). What does our God seem to be asking of religious today, especially in institutes that appear to be dying? It surely is not pious platitudes: "God's will"; "God will provide"; "History will repeat itself"; "It happened before." While it may be hard to read what is happening, we can surmise a few points about basic attitudes to which the Lord may be calling us. Most basic of these is to expand our vision beyond our own religious institutes to see how the Spirit is active in the birthing of so many new forms of consecration for mission. Despite secularism and other "isms"--perhaps because of them--our times are seeing all kinds of new Christian community foundations with a variety of time-tested and new elements. We are living in an era as rich as the nineteenth cen-tury, as far as new religious ventures are concerned, although the em-phasis on some aspects of consecration may differ. In many parts of the world the Spirit is pouring forth founding charisms on individuals to wit-ness to Christ in discipleship in new ways. In some instances there are blends of various long-standing spiritual traditions; others are different combinations of the monastic and actively apostolic; still others would appear to be revivals of forms that have passed out of existence over the centuries; some are entirely new. One can look at the community movements springing up and won-der why these people do not simply join already existing religious con-gregations that are in need of new members in order to continue. And we just cannot find adequate answers on a human level. It is not enough to say that today's individuals want less structure because some of the emerging groups are very highly structured. Nor can one merely explain that people want to be unencumbered, free of age-old traditions and in-stitutionalism, since many are deeply rooted in traditions and some have picked up practices that religious congregations have laid aside. Is it the attraction of the new? Who knows? What is important is to have a vi-sion that embraces what the Spirit of God is doing to further the mission of Jesus in our age. If all disciples of Christ are people of mission, the challenge is to keep one's attention on the accomplishment of the mis-sion and not just one's own particular part in it. The glory of God Review for Religious, May-June 1991 through the restoration of creation in Christ is what matters and not how we think we are glorifying God. We are face-to-face with the issue of whose mission this is, God's or ours, and whether we have fallen into the trap of overestimating the importance of our own role in the mission. A breadth of vision is needed, with the focal point being Christ and the continuation of Christ's message and work. We share in that work; we witness to Christ's person and message. The continuation of the mission is what counts, not so much who accomplishes it. Religious today may find themselves in a situation somewhat analo-gous to some incidents described in the Bible: Now two men, one named Eldad and the other Medad, were not in the gathering but had been left in the camp. They too had been on the list, but had not gone out to the tent; yet the spirit came to rest on them also, and they prophesied in the camp. So, when a young man quickly told Moses, "Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp," Joshua, son of Nun, who from his youth had been Moses' aide, said, "Moses, my lord, stop them." But Moses answered him, "Are you jea.lous for my sake? Would that all the people of the Lord were prophets! Would that the Lord might bestow his spirit on them all!" (Nb 11:26-29). John said to him, "Master, we saw a man who is not one of us cast-ing out devils in your name; and because he was not one of us we tried to stop him." But Jesus said, "You must not stop him: no one who works a miracle in my name is likely to speak evil of me. Anyone who is not against us is for us" (Mk 9:38-40). If God was giving them the same gift he gave us when we first be-lieved in the Lord Jesus Christ, who am I to impede the action of God? (Ac 11:17). Perhaps individuals experience pain when they see others in search of values in new groups and it appears that the ideals are the same that they themselves are trying to live. Yet the attention must be on Christ and ful-fillment of his plan now, what is needed for the mission now, and not on one's own pain. Granted that this is easier said than done, but we must keep trying to be conscious of the mission that is the very reason for our being. Our faith would tell us that the Lord is very much present in the cur-rent situation, though not necessarily in the way that we would like the Lord to be present, that is, according to our desires and plans. And that is another aspect of what God is asking of religious today: to find him present in the decline as much as in the previous rise in religious life. This entails hope, defined in the dictionary as desire joined with the ex- Focus: The Mission pectation of getting what is desired. The "what is desired," however, constitutes a problem area. Most religious say that they hope there will be a resurgence of vocations to their institutes and they frequently wit-ness to their words through intense prayer for vocations, both in personal prayer and in petitions during the Prayers of the Faithful at Eucharistic celebrations and the liturgy of the hours. Christian hope must be founded on the person of Jesus Christ, whose power gives us the basis for expectations to be fulfilled. Jesus' mission/ kingdom are inseparable from his person and to hope in him touches upon his mission and his ways of bringing it about rather than our own projections of what the mission demands according to our viewpoints-- in particular, the preservation of our particular religious institutes. We hope, but in what way'?. In total openness to God's ways? Genuine hope involves a finding of the Lord present in situations that may lead to a cer-tain type of dying; hope in the Lord may mean a letting go of some of our desires and false hopes, and even of any panicky types of prayer for vocations. Now is a time for deep inner calm founded on the Lord Jesus who is at work among his people, accomplishing the mission, though our vision be obscured through personal suffering over the decline of reli-gious life. Not resignation, but a lively hope in the Lord! How frequently the Word of God calls us to wait on the Lord in a spirit of peace, "singing the favors of the Lord" even when we feel weighed down with concerns. The Lord's time and way so often are not our times, ways, and vision; thus he challenges us to a patient engaging trust in him, as he did Habakkuk of old: Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets, so that one can read it readily. For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late (Hab 2:2-3). This waiting in patience is not passive, for it demands a struggle for faith in and openness to God's ways in the accomplishment .of the mission. And it charges us to keep on going in what we are living, giving, and doing and not to pull into self, overwhelmed by feelings of discourage-ment. The blindness of faith and surrender to the Lord's way are invoked by waiting on the Lord. St. Therese of Lisieux described herself as a little ball: "You [God] throw me to someplace in a corner; maybe ten years later you pick me up again." Catherine de Hueck Doherty mentions in her writings a starets who said that we should be like rag dolls that can be picked up 356 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 by the hand, foot, or head, thrown in the bushes, hugged, thrown in the toy box. These figures of speech point to the self-emptying at the heart of waiting on the Lord--the painful surrenders to go the Lord's way and not our own, holding on in faith as we try to let go of our ways and yield to the divine ways. It is a movement to selflessness with conviction that God knows what he is doing, even when it is beyond our comprehen-sion. Human solutions to problems and techniques for attracting possible vocations are important, but none are miraculous. There is no mystical, magical solution for the vocational crisis in religious institutes. No mat-ter what human avenues and approaches are pursued, we must look to the basic point of attitudes our God wants of us now: faith; largeness of vision of the mission and how it is being realized today and by whom it is being promoted; and awareness that the Lord is calling us to a kenosis beyond what we have experienced in the recent past. And all of this would appear to be part of the divine plan for greater growth in open-ness to God's ways. The alternative prayer for the fourth Sunday of Eas-ter expresses it powerfully: God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, though your people walk in the valley of darkness, no evil should they fear; for they follow in faith the call of the shepherd whom you have sent for their hope and strength. Attune our minds to the sound of his voice, lead our steps in the path he has shown, that we may know the strength of his outstretched arm and enjoy the light of your presence for ever. We ask this in the name of Jesus the Lord. Participative Leadership for Refounding: Reflections Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Father Arbuckle is well known to many of our readers around the world for his arti-cles, books, and workshops. His address: Catholic Theological Union; ! Mary Street; Hunters Hill, Sydney, N.S.W.; Australia 2110. Refounding is the process whereby an apostolic congregation, under the inspiration and leadership of creatively pastoral people, relates the Gos-pel message to the critically challenging problems within contemporary cultures (for example, secularism and injustice) according to the spirit of the original founding vision. ~ These imaginative people cannot emerge and act, however, if their officially appointed congregational leadership team fails to realize its primary function: to foster an atmosphere condu-cive to pastoral creativity within the religious community. I believe that the decision-making processes of the leadership team that aim to facilitate refounding must be based on the principles of parti-cipative (or collaborative) leadership. However, considerable confusion can exist about precisely what is meant by participative government. In this article I seek to clarify what is meant by "participative lead-ership for refounding." I concentrate on the dynamics of participative leadership within the officially appointed congregational leadership teams at the provincial and general levels. By extension, what I say of the participative process within these teams will apply mutatis mutandis to all other congregational leadership groups. Leadership for Refounding: Clarifying the Model Two relevant models of administrative style can be distinguished-- the "mechanistic" and the "organic"; they differ according to the pur- 357 Review for Religious, May-June 1991 pose for which an organization exists.2 In the mechanistic style, the tasks of the organization are considered predictable or unchanging. The organi-zation is characterized by many rules and regulations; the leadership's role is to make sure that these long-established and neatly set-out rules of operation are being followed. Creativity is discouraged because it threatens a predictable way of acting. Thus, the mechanistic style of lead-ership is totally unsuited to a world of change. Within the Church, the methods of evangelization and pastoral care changed little over several centuries prior to Vatican II. The world had to adapt to the Church, not vice versa. The administrative style of the ecclesiastical and religious congregations had become mechanistic. Re-cently I reviewed the provincial-chapter decrees of an apostolic male cleri-cal congregation from 1894 to 1956. Never at any point is there refer-ence to the need for pastoral creativity; instead the emphasis is on con-trol through the maintenance of detailed discipline rules. For example, in the decrees of 1900, phrases like "the present Chapter reasserts the prohibition against." are commonplace. Little wonder that our pastoral administrators failed to take note of the emergence of the urban/factory working class in the nineteenth cen-tury. Pastoral care remained predictably and "pleasantly" rural in ori-entation. Not surprisingly, the vast majority of this often oppressed class became alienated from the Church and continue to remain so. The second style of administration is organic. There are few rules and regulations in the organization. The emphasis is on constant inno-vation, creativity, and evaluative feedback because the marketplace de-mands an ever-increasing variety of new products, devices, and designs. The leadership fosters in the organization a participative atmosphere in which people feel they can create and be supported by other members in the group. Decision making is primarily proactive rather than reactive or crisis solving. By this we mean that organic administrations are "an-ticipative people," that is, they see change coming and then begin to plan and discuss different ways to adapt to it. They begin to create and control change rather than succumb to it.3 Organic-oriented leadership is founded on six assumptions. First, the process of creativity and innovation is a generally very messy one, be-cause it is a human activity that "involves the personalities, emotions, and quirks of many creative people. It does not always work cleanly; it does not always work well; it certainly does not usually work effi-ciently.' ,4 Second, leadership teams need space and time in which to ponder Participative Leadership / 359 over the implications of the information coming .to them. If leaders do not have this sacred space and time, they will, without realizing it, re-gress to an authoritarian style of leadership. Today congregational lead-ership, especially at the provincial level, must carry unprecedented bur-dens. For example, as a consequence of the inevitable contemporary "re-ligious- life chaos," congregational leadership must be involved in press-ing maintenance issues, such as the closing of houses because of the de-cline in membership and the development of new ministries, the pastoral care of religious who are confused by the chaos within and outside re-ligious life, and the finding of finances to cover health and retirement costs. At the same time they must be giving priority to the future of the congregation, its mission, new and creative responses. If congregational leadership is not ruthlessly careful, it will be exhausted with maintenance demands. Creativity space will be choked out. Third, because the organization exists to respond to the needs of a rapidly changing world, the communication about these needs and the creative responses to them must be fast, two-way, and accurate. The lead-ership team is concerned to get the right information at the right time and to pass it on to the people who need it, to get the message understood and acted upon. Fourth, the temptation to spend an excessive amount of time on analy-sis of the information being received must be resisted. Organizations can become so caught up in more and more analysis and information gather-ing that they become paralyzed. On the other hand, paralysis can also develop if organizations are consistently rushing into decision making without sufficient research and information. Creative risk takers become deenergized not only with excessive, introverted meetings and analysis, but also by having to interact with groups that constantly fail to listen to reality.5 In whatever way group paralysis occurs, we have a recipe for organizational suicide. Fifth, even the most creative leadership teams can develop middle-life weariness. They can lose their drive and enthusiasm and adopt a mechanistic leadership style; they fall victim to the deadly temptation to spend their time solving the problems of yesterday rather than anticipat-ing the challenges of tomorrow. Bureaucracy, red tape, and complacency are the symptoms of this mortal disease.6 Sixth, organizations that have become bureaucratic, inward-looking, or unresponsive to changing needs can only be refounded if their leadership is prepared to adopt the organic style. The resistance to change and to creative persons, however, could be so great that the pro- 3130 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 cess of refounding is impossible. The leadership team is powerless. But the team should not lightly surrender to resistance---on the other hand, ,the real obstacles to refounding may well be within the leadership group itself. Seventh, every leadership team needs skills for interpreting what is happening within its own group and within the wider society it seeks to serve. If a team is unable to be honest and courageous enough to reflect on the strengths and weaknesses of its own interrelationships, it will re-main insensitive to what is taking place within the wider organizational culture.7 Organic Leadership Style and Religious Life Apostolic religious congregations exist to minister to the changing pastoral needs of people and cultures.8 An essential reason for their ex-istence is that they be bold in apostolic initiatives.9 This ministry de-mands an organic leadership style in congregational administrations. 10 The Ignatian discernment method of coming to decisions is a form of the organic leadership style. The organic style finds support in the approach of St. Paul to evangel-ization. While there must be respect for the unchanging values of the teaching of Jesus Christ, there must be an openness to the use of the di-verse girls of people in preaching the Good News: "Now Christ's body is yourselves, each of you with a part to play in the whole" (1 Co 12:27). Paul lists the girls in order of importance. After the apostles (and their successors) came prophets (v.28). The prophets, whose distinguishing qualities are spelled out by Paul in writing to the Galatians (5:22), are the imaginative and creative persons within the Church (and religious con-gregations). Their role is to challenge Gospel communities constantly to develop new ways to preach the Good News to the world of today. Paul assumes that leaders of Christian communities must allow authentic proph-ets and pastorally creative persons to emerge and function. There is nothing nonincarnational, stuffy, bureaucratic, or mecha-nistic about Paul's thinking. Achieving Organic Leadership: Practical Guidelines If religious leadership teams are to have an organic leadership style, they must: 1. Formulate a clear team vision of goals and strategies. If a team does not know what it is aiming for, it will be equally fuzzy about what it should be doing; personal and group energy will dissipate Participative Leadership / 361 on minutiae or nonessential issues. The forming of a vision of realistic goals and the strategies to achieve them is at first sight deceptively simple. The formulation of practical strategies, for example, demands precise thinking and forecasting as well as making commitments involving others; most superiors are not accus-tomed to viewing the process in this way. ~ 2. Be aware of differing forms of participative leadership. The participative approach means that all team members share in the decision-making process. They do this in various ways, for example: dis-cussion leads to consensus or a majority vote or after consultation of mem-bers or their free offer of advice, the team leader or a delegated member decides. The preference is the first option: full involvement in decision mak-ing through consensus. However, there must be flexibility. The group should learn what option is the most appropriate at a given time. For ex-ample, the urgency for decision and action may allow only the last op-tion, that is, a decision made by the one with the most authority. Deci-sion making through consensus normally takes considerable time. Canon law and congregational constitutions do prescribe that some matters be decided, for example, by the major superior with the consent or advice of other members of the leadership team. If lengthy or wide consultation or majority voting is made the unchanging rule, then decisions may never be made and the urgent apostolic needs are left unattended. The conse-quence is that an organic style of leadership is turned into an oppressive mechanistic one. Decision making through consensus needs to be carefully under-stood. By consensus is meant that all parties agree what the decision should be and feel that they have been thoroughly involved at all stages. However, if consensus decision making is pursued at all costs, that is, if it is made into a rigid ideology, then points of conflict and disagree-ment are forced underground. If these issues remain unattended to, then all kinds of unresolved negative feelings or hurts will haunt the group and threaten to split it apart. The same danger exists if the majority vot-ing option is pushed through too quickly, because then disagreements and differences of opinion also remain unresolved. Pseudoconsultation is to be ruthlessly avoided; this involves the il-lusion of participation without the substance. Decisions have already been made by leaders, but other team members are then "consulted to keep them happy." There is no intention of changing the original deci-sions. This leads to disillusionment, disaffection, and cynicism. 362 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 I find that major superiors can unwittingly raise false expectations within their leadership teams (and within their province or congregation) simply by failing to specify the particular form of participation they ex-pect at a particular time. Sometimes the word "collegiality" is used interchangeably with "participative government," but this can also cause needless confusion. Strictly speaking, collegiality connotes a particular relationship between the college of bishops and the pope. The term can be applied to religious life only with extreme care. Collegiality has come to be synonymous with "participatory democracy," which assumes that in all decisions every member of a team o.r province must be fully acquainted with every detail and that decision making must be always according to the major-ity vote. 12 Collegial government in religious life, that is, where all mem-bers have equal rights in decision making by law, exists only at general and provincial chapters. 3. Adhere to subsidiarity. Whatever individuals or committees of councilors are able to do for themselves ought not to be removed from their competence and taken over by other people, for example, major superiors. Canon law or. the constitution will set out precisely those decisions that must be made by the major superior with the consent or consultation of the council. In other matters he or she can lawfully delegate authority to congregational team members. I find, however, that subsidiarity fails to work whenever team mem-bers are unsure precisely who has the delegated authority or authoriza-tion. Team members and the province or congregation as a whole must know who has the right to make decisions and takes responsibility for them. Secondly, when the major superior attempts to take back the author-ity without justification or when other team members try to interfere, un-necessary frustration occurs. Team members feel used, irrelevant, and deenergized as persons and leaders within the community. One practical consequence of adhering to the principle of subsidiarity is that great care must be taken to see that the agendas for congregational team meetings be carefully screened. No matter should come to team meetings that can and should be dealt with at lower levels. If this screen-ing does not take place, the team is back to the limitations of participa-tory- democracy procedures. They become bogged down by irrelevant mi-nutiae, and the critically important issues for team consideration become crowded out. Participative Leadership 4. Delegate maintenance tasks. Remember that the primary role of congregational leadership teams is to challenge their religious communities to face the realities of the fu-ture. They cannot even begin this task if they are constantly burdened at meetings with maintenance and personnel issues. This is not to deny the pastoral importance of such issues, but merely to highlight the key function of leadership teams. As far as possible, the maintenance requirements of congregations must be delegated to others. This will demand of leaders a ruthless self-discipline to prevent them from becoming smothered in maintenance prob-lems. Without such self-discipline there can be no congregational fu-ture. ~ 3 5. Be accountable. Every team member must be accountable for his or her performance to the group and through the majo.r superior and team to the whole prov-ince or congregation. But a warning: If delegation is working effectively, then the amount of material being made available to other members of the council or team for the sake of accountability should be controlled; otherwise they will again be swamped within a paper jungle. Leadership teams must be alert to the fact that they can easily be-come trapped in their own busyness so that they have no idea where they are going or what is really important, and end up experiencing rather than inventing the future. Busyness is apt to lull leaders into thinking that their decisions are relevant when in fact the opposite is the reality. 6. Understand and use power. Though power is a commonly used word, it is nonetheless frequently misunderstood. However, it is critically important to grasp its meaning and its various types because the failure to do so can frustrate the work of a congregational team's involvement in the refounding process. Power is the ability to influence the values and behavior of the or-ganizations or cultures in which we find ourselves. Structural power de-rives from the roles that we officially hold in an organization, for exam-ple, congregational leader or team member. Functional power derives from the skill we use within a group, for example, the skill of animation or coriamunication; personal power derives from our personality.14 Again recall that the primary task of a congregational team commit-ted to the refounding process is that of finding, empowering, and sup-porting the right people. On their own team and in the province or con-gregation they serve, these persons must be enabled tO create, not made 364 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 to devise elaborate controls to make less creative or resilient persons do what they should be doing. This requires that the congregational team, first, use its functional and personal power to find the right people and empower them to act and, second, use its structural power to open up the congregational struc-tures to allow the creative persons to operate without unnecessary inter-ference from other sections of the leadership team or the congregation or province as a whole. In brief, a creative team allows for and fosters the "pastorally in-novative eccentric." This may even mean applying the axiom "The new belongs elsewhere," which I have described at length in a recent book. ~5 That is, through the application of structural power, the team establishes structures that permit the "innovative eccentrics" to act without having to be accountable to a large number of people for what they are doing. The leadership team assumes the initiative of explaining to others the na-ture and progress of the creative pastoral project, thus allowing the in-novative people to concentrate on their new apostolic ventures. 7. Foster team trust. Congregational leadership groups must learn to see themselves as teams, not as a set of individuals. On a team, members are aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses; they aim to act in a manner which uses their individual diversity to serve the group. The group needs to ask itself three questions if it is to assess the qual-ity of its teamwork: (1) Does the group have the necessary skills and struc-tures to work together cooperatively and effectively? (2) If the team has not the necessary skills, can it develop them or should it seek them from outsiders? (3) Does the group have the attitudes, values, and norms that foster the required skills and support the required structures? If members do not trust one another, they will communicate inadequately. They will hold back information, thus weakening the quality of the team's deci-sion making. Maybe such lack of trust comes from conflict or the fear of it. Yet conflict is unavoidable even on the best teams. Members should npt try to hide it, but should try to recognize its causes and develop methods of resolving it. Robert Bolton distinguishes between the emotional and the substantive dimensions of conflict. The former include anger, distrust, defensiveness, fear, and resentment. Substantive dimensions involve con-flicting needs, disagreements over policies and practices, and divergent views of roles and the uses of resources. These substantive issues can-not be resolved until the emotional aspects are faced up to; the team may Participative Leadership / 365 require an outside facilitator for this to take place. 16 Members need to realize that the primary concern of team building is not the individual needs of the group's members, but the welfare of the congregation and the Church it serves. Members can become so con° cerned to achieve collaboration and cohesion that these qualities become not a means but an end in themselves. The team style then changes from an organic to a mechanistic one, and a rigid conformity to rules of unity predominates. The creativity of individual team members is then stifled or crushed. This is what William G. Dyer means when he writes: "Crea-tivity is often at odds with the conditions that foster collaboration. It is possible to increase team work while inhibiting creativity, which seems to stem from the less fettered individual.''~7 8. Nurture group life humanly and spiritually. A task-oriented congregational team expends considerable energy. Unless individuals and the group have space and time to restore this en-ergy, problems develop: bickering, excessive tiredness, poor concentra-tion, and individual and group burnout. Organizational and leadership culture must, then, be cared for if ap-ostolic effectiveness is to be maintained and grow. The group can revi-talize its own energies in a variety of ways. The options chosen will de-pend on what the group enjoys doing. One team, for example, may en-joy a regular meal together well away from their place of meeting; an-other team may receive energy through open-ended discussion on par-ticular topics. A group that has fun together is more likely to be a group that can stay and work together.18 As a top priority the spiritual life of the group needs nurturing. When the members are unable to share in prayer their faith experiences, they will lack the inner freedom for honesty and openness. I have seen the energy of individuals and groups rise with extraordinary rapidity as a con-sequence of members sharing their reflections on scriptural passages. Shar-ing cannot be pushed; it grows under the power of the Holy Spirit as mem-bers become more comfortable with one another and with the presence o~ the Lord in their midst. 9. Be flexible with meeting styles. Meetings need variety. Formal meetings, namely, regular team gath-erings that have agendas in advance, are essential. But, since these gen-erally are not the occasions for inspiration and energy-creating interac-tion, from time to time there should be team meetings with no detailed and set agendas. At these informal meetings the group could benefit from 366 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 a clear and simple process of critical self-reflection. Questions like the following could be used: How do you think the team is working together? Are our objectives being realized? Do the objectives need sharpening? Do individual members want to share the major concerns of their depart-ments? These gatherings become a mixture of sharing worries and suc-cesses, of.dreaming about the future of the province or congregation, of brainstorming about strategies. lO. Implement reality-testing sessions. A congregational team, like any human group, can lose touch with reality--for many reasons. For example, the group may become so anx-ious about the difficulties it faces in its leadership task that it uncon-sciously denies and represses much reality and so ignores it in its deci-sion making. To forestall such an eventuality, the team desperately needs regular reality-testing sessions: Are the usual staying-in-touch methods still working? Have they outlived their usefulness? Are they blocking the flow of information in and out of the group? Are members of the team continuing to listen to and communicate with one another? Have barri-ers developed between members? This can be a thoroughly uncomfort-able exercise, but without it much well-intentioned apostolic energy can dissipate. 19 Conclusion We read that the early Christian communities were "united, heart and soul; no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, as ev-erything they owned was held in common" (Ac 4:32). This aptly de-scribes what congregational leadership teams should strive to be like, plac-ing their possessions--their talents and their skills--at the service of the team and the congregation, making that effort even if it be painful. Such unity is achievable only if the efforts of the team members are earthed in the power of Christ's resurrection (see Ac 4:33). It is only through resurrection love that members can learn to find "joy in the truth., to make allowances, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes" (1 Co 13:7). Then there will be an organic, flexible style of lead-ership within congregational teams, and it will be apostolically energiz-ing for all who experience it.2° NOTES ~ See G.A. Arbuckle, Out of Chaos: Refounding Religious Congregations (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), pp. 88-135, and Earthing the Gospel: An Inculturation Participative Leadership / 367 Handbook for the Pastoral Worker (London: Geoffrey Chapman; Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1990), chap. 12. 2 See T. Burns and G.M. Stalker, The Management oflnnovation (Chicago: Quad-rangle Books), passim. 3 See C.R. Hickman and M.A. Silva, Creating Excellence: Managing Corporate Cul-ture (New York: New American Library, 1984), p. 191. 4 K. Albrecht, The Creative Corporation (Homewood, I11.: Dow Jones-Irwin, 1987), pp. 46f. 5 See G. Pinchot, lntrapreneuring (New York: Harper & Row, 1985), pp. 224f.; see also the helpful insights of I. Briggs Myers, Gifts Differing (Palo Alto, Calif.: Con-sulting Psychologists Press, 1980), pp. 69-75. 6 See P. Drucker, Innovation and Entrepreneurship: Practice and Principles (New York: Harper & Row, 1986), p. 149. 7 See E.H. Schein, Organizational Culture and Leadership: A Dynamic View (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1987), pp. 137-147,270-296, and D. Graves, Corporate Cul-ture: Diagnosis and Change (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1986), pp. 120-144. 8 See J. O'Malley, "Priesthood, Ministry, and Religious Life: Some Historical and Historiographical Considerations," Theological Studies 49 (1988): 223-257. 9 See Congregations for Religious and Bishops, Directives for the Mutual Relations between Bishops and Religious in the Church (Sydney: St. Paul Publications, 1978), para. 12. 10 See comments on the New Code of Canon Law in G.A. Arb'uckle, Strategies for Growth in Religious Life (New York: Alba House, 1986), p. 137. i~ See G.A. Arbuckle, Out of Chaos, pp. 30-33, 105f. 12 See L. Schaller, The Change Agent: The Strategy of Innovative Leadership (Nash-ville: Abingdon Press, 1972), pp. 14, 152-154. ~3 See K. Albrecht, Successful Management by Objectives: An Action Manual (Engle-wood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1978), pp. 176f. ~4 Definitions and clarifications on power are provided by Jane Blaxland. See als6 " G.A. Arbuckle, Strategies for Growth in Religious Life (New York: Alba House, 1987), pp. 134-139. 15 See G.A. Arbuckle, Out of Chaos, pp. 112-135. 16 See R. Bolton People Skills (Brookvale: Simon & Schuster, 1987), p. 217; see also J.F. Benson, Working More Creatively with Groups (London: Tavistock, ! 987), pp. 130-145, l19f. 17 W.G. Dyer, Strategies for Managing Change (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1984), p. 176. 18 See J.F. Benson, Working More Creatively, pp. 184-186. 19 See the helpful insights of M.F. Kets de Vries and D. Miller, The Neurotic Or-ganization: Diagnosing and Changing Counterproductive Styles of Management (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1985), pp. 15-45, 133-205; and E.H. Schein, Organizational Culture, pp. 185-208, 311-327. 2°I am grateful for the help of Jane Blaxland and Michael A. Mullins, S.M., in the preparation of this article. Mary, Woman for Peacemakers Patricia McCarthy, C.N.D. Sister Patricia McCarthy, C.N.D., may be addressed at Congregation of Notre Dame; 41 Cole Street; East Providence, Rhode Island 02914. Before much time in the field has elapsed, a worker for peace usually dis-covers, by need, the meaning behind Gandhi's claim that mute prayer was his greatest weapon. Fidelity to truth and perseverance in justice are fruits that can only be produced if prayer is the seed. Such prayer begins with a choice--a choice to respond to the call from God, a choice to take the first commandment seriously and to kneel before God. The choice is to hear and acknowledge the call to worship, to invest time, effort, and attention to this call. The choice is to be there listening day after day, to be there loving hour after hour, and to be there receiving love moment by moment. It is when we make that move from listening and loving to the realization of being loved that prayer becomes relationship. Out of this relationship, we no longer see ourselves as only workers for peace, we become united with Jesus Christ the one peace-maker. From union with his heart, we understand the work of peace to-day and embrace the call to share in it. If we have felt the call to enter into this prayer-love relationship with Christ, our first step is to turn to Mary. Our reasons for this are many. We come to Mary as to an intimate friend, we come asking to know her, to love her, and to realize her love for us. We come to Mary because she is the virgin Mother of God. We come to Mary because she was the most faithful disciple of Christ during her time on earth. We come to Mary because Christ gave her to us from the cross. We come to her be-cause we believe she is our loyal advocate from heaven. We come to Mary because she passionately offered herself to God for the sake of his 368 Mary, Woman for Peacemakers people at the Annunciation. God blessed and accepted that offering two thousand years ago, impregnated her with the seed of God so she could give birth in flesh and blood to Jesus. Finally, we come to Mary because she was faithfully present when Jesus abandoned himself to his Father. Mary was the Mother of God in Bethlehem when the Word of God became flesh to be among us; and Mary was the Mother of God on Calvary when the Word of God surren-dered his flesh to redeem us. Mary was mother and companion to the Son of Peace while he walked this fragile earth. Let us ask her to accompany us as we journey toward peace. For the sake of clarity, let us consider three specific as-pects of our life with her: prayer, mission, and prophecy. Prayer Why Mary with regard to prayer? Devotion to Mary does not come out of some private practice covered with sentimentality. Devotion to Mary comes from the heart of the mysteries of redemption and salvation. From the time angels chose not to worship God and refused to ac-knowledge God as God, evil has existed. It entered into humanity through our ancestors who also chose a created good over the Creator. Along with the existence of sin, however, was the promise of redemp-tion. God never left us without hope even when we did not know enough to care. For years, God formed covenants with us and reformed them af-ter we broke them. God spoke to us to admonish us, to encourage us, to instruct us; God spoke through generations of holy men and women. And, finally, when the fullness of time had arrived God chose to speak through Jesus Christ. With the greate.st risk, God let this divine intervention wait upon the word of a virgin daughter of Israel. Mary. had been chosen and prepared, kept free of any remnant of our ancestral tendency to sin. She had been formed in the covenants of Yahweh, desirous of the coming of the Mes-siah. She had learned to kneel before Yahweh, to worship, to find her joy and hope in her God. Mary understood the angels who were beings of praise, and she knew there were also angels who had chosen differ-ently. She knew the history of her people, the faithful and the unfaith-ful. Her whole being grew in anticipation for Yahweh to come again. Mary's receptivity to the Word of God was the essence of her virginity. She became the virgin Mother of.God because she allowed the power of God to overshadow her. This is also our model for virginity: To understand the yes Mary said at the Annunciation, we have to see her clearly as virgin. Before we can 370 / Review for Religious, May-June 1991 say yes, we have to see ourselves just as clearly as virgins. Virginity is a reality today that is poorly understood at best. Virginity, in its narrow-est sense, can be applied to a person, male or female, who has not had sexual intercourse. The virginity of Mary calls us to far more than that. In her virginity, Mary gives us the model for our own. Virginity is receptivity and openness to God's working with us and through us. It is total surrender to the loved one, the abandonment of all defenses and re-serves in the presence of the beloved. It is the willingness to take on a destiny utterly contrary to the culture of the day. It is the commitment to accept the seed of God in order to give the life of Christ to the world. Once we accept the seed we are committed to nourish it. The child will grow and be born of us and we will be responsible for him from that mo-ment on. This is the grace of virginity we received with our baptism, the grace to open ourselves to Christ, the grace that we can choose to coop-erate with whether we are male or female, married or single, religious or lay. This is the grace of virginity that calls us to a passionate chas-tity. This is the grace of virginity that Mary embraced. Mary has also shown us the call to motherhood, the call to bring Christ into the world. To the beauty of virginity God offered mother-hood, an inconceivable reality that Mary freely assented to. With that sin-gle yes, the Savior and Redeemer of the world was conceived. As no one else ever could, Mary in the ecstasy of her surrendered virginity em-bodied the Word of God. "The one whom the universe cannot contain is contained within your womb." She gave flesh to the good news, she brought forth the Prince of Peace. We owe Mary love, because it is through her tha

Issue 24.6 of the Review for Religious, 1965. ; Sanctification. thrgugh Virginity by Charles~A. Schleck, C.S.C. 829 The Church~s ~Holiness and Religious Life by Gustave Martelet, S.J. 882 Renewal in the Ex~rcise Of Authority by Thomas Dubay, S.M. 914 The Priesthgod and Celibacy by Jean Galot, S.J. 930 .The Religious Peter Pan by James D~I, Mahoney, M.D. 957 Communication: in ;Religious Life by Richard:.M~ M~Keon, S.J. 962 ~ Survey of Roman" Documents 967 rows, News, Previews 974 Questions and Answers 979 Book Reviews 982 . Indices for Volume 24, 1965 995 VOLUME 24 NUMBER 6 November 1965 CHARLES A. SCHLECK, c.S.C. Sanctification through Virginity Doctrinally speaking,* the objective excellence of virginity over marriage cannot be called into question. It is a truth dogmatically defined by the Church and is quite explicitly taught in Sacred Scripture.x Moreover, the esteem and veneration, the maternal solicitude and affection which the Church has always shown for the "choicest portion of the flock of Christ" ~ is evident to anyone who would examine her docnmentation in re-gard to this manner of living,s Nor is this any matter for wonder. From the very beginning the first Christians had a very vivid awareness of the gospel demands not only in the realm of dogma but also in that of the following of Christ. Rather quickly the better Christians voluntarily embraced the condition of ascetics or of the continent.4 These, actuated by love and disdaining the cares of the world, overcame that division of heart which is so easy and yet which is so full of danger, and dedicated or con-secrated themselves wholly to Christ. In so doing they made a perpetual transfer of their entire life to Christ and to the Church and the Christian community, in ¯ This is the third of a series of six lectures that Father Schleck gave in 1962 to the Conference of Major Superiors of Women Re-ligious of the United States. The first of the series, "The Major Su-perior and the Meaning of Her Subjects' Vocation," was printed in REvmw FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 24 (1965), pp. 161-87; the second, "Poverty and Sanctification," appeared in the REVIEW, V. 24 (1965), pp. 548- 88. 1See Denzinger-Sch6nmetzer, Enchiridion symbolorum, n. 1810 (English trs. in The Church Teaches, n.866); Mt 19:11 ft.; 1 Cot 7:25 ft., 38, 40. This truth is recalled in the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Chapter 5, paragraphs 39-40 (English translation in REVIEW FOR RELm~OUS, V. 24 [1965], pp. 707--8). 2 St. Cyprian, De habitu virginum, 3 (P.L., v. 4, col. 455). s See my The Theology of Vocations (Milwaukee: Bruce, pp. 315-21. ~ See F. Vandenbroucke, O.S.B., "La vie religieuse au cours des si~cles," La vie religieuse dam l'Eglise du Christ (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1964), p. 19. Father Charles A. Schleck, C.S.C., is a faculty member of Holy Cross College; 4001 Harewood Road, N.E.; Wash-ington, D. C, 10017. VOLUME 24, 1965 829 4. 4. 4. C. A. Schleck~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 830 which they made their Lord present through the special engagement they assumed. This mystical marriage to Christ and this gift of them-selves to the Christian community was at first enacted spontaneously and was accomplished more by their ac-tual existence and manner of life than by any express rite or within any well-defined structure or framework. Soon, however, they began to constitute a state and a rank set apart and recognized by the Church, such that profession of virginity began to be made publicly and was recognized and strengthened by a bond that gradu-ally grew more and more firm and stable. It was then that the Church in accepting the virgin's desire to lead this way of life in her midst publicly consecrated her as a person inviolably united to Christ and the Church. This was done by means of a rite that borrowed all of its em-phasis from the nuptial rite and was rightly regarded as one of the most beautiful ceremonies existing in the whole of the ancient liturgy. It was in and through this action that the Church clearly distinguished these public virgins from all others who had bound themselves to God and the life of the Church by merely private obliga-tions. This profession of the life of virginity was soon sur-rounded by a rather vigilant and rigorous asceticism and was at the same time nourished by definite practices of piety and of the various Christian virtues, both for the edification of the people of God and also because of the inevitable weaknesses of the majority of men. All this development of the life of virginity has been most won-derfully placed before us by the early fathers of the Church who present us with a picture or image of the virgin dedicated to Christ and the Church that has per-haps never been surpassed and perhaps not even equaled. It is in their writings that we shall find most clearly and vividly depicted everything either interior or exterior that could in any way concern virginal sanctity and perfection. After peace came to the Church in the time of Con-stantine, it gradually became the practice of the con-secrated virgins to add to this consecration the express profession of poverty and obedience. Moreover, they began to live together in common as much for the love of solitude and mutual assistance and edification as well as for protection against the rather grave dangers then extant in Roman society. This practice the Church herself generally commended, even though she did not actually impose it until some time later on when she forbade liturgically consecrated virgins to live in their own homes or in a rather loose sort of community life. This discipline of the Church gradually led to tha~ form of religious life which we call strict enclosure. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries congrega-tions of women sprang up who professed virginity as well as the other evangelical counsels and yet- who were not considered "religious" in the strict sense of this word because their vows were not publicly and officially ap-proved by the Church. Indeed, even after they had re-ceived provisory legislation through the Conditae a Christo of Leo XIII in 1900 they were not considered as "religious" or "regulars" in the strict sense and in the law of the Church. This status was granted t6 them only with the promulgation of the Code of Canon Law. Yet for all this development of the life and profession of virginity and for all the solicitude and love which the Church has shown towards those who have embraced this way of life, the excellence and the superiority of it have not always seemed to remain clearly impressed on the minds of those inside and outside the Church. And the argument: "To what good is all this loss of woman-hood and this voluntary practice of barrenness?" has perdured. I suppose that there are basically two reasons for this. The first is the ever growing understanding and appreciation and depth insight into the beauty and sanctity of married life, with its contemporary expres-sion as the full development of the woman's personality and feminine powers and of her reflection of the image of the Church as the Spouse of Christ. The other reason perhaps has been the absence, up until quite recently, of a more positive approach to virginity, due to the in-fluence of a more or less puritanical or Manichaean understanding of the whole concept of sexuality. In fact, it became so delicate a subject that it was considered almost dangerous to speak about, especially when the audience happened to be those who had dedicated their lives to Christ or were thinking of doing so. As a result of this, the true splendor and beauty and richness of virginity dedicated to Christ or marriage to Christ be-came more and more obscured, less attractive, and fi-nally, in the minds of some, inferior or less excellent or only equal, even objectively speaking, to the way of life which is marriage in Christ. The importance of a more positive approach and un-derstanding of virginity is therefore quite evident, and this for two reasons. First, there is the need to reinstate it in its God-given place in the plan of salvation, in the eyes of both those inside the Church as well as outside. The second lies in the fact that often in the case of the woman virginity is the real determining factor of her vocation to a state of perfection. Sometimes by a kind of ÷ ÷ ÷ Virginity VOLUME 24/ 1965. 83] ÷ ÷ ÷ REVIEW~FOR RELIGIOUS 832 intuition given or communicated to her with the grace of vocation she realizes that the values offered her in mere human love are obstacles or could easily become obstacles to her wish and intent to achieve the fullness of Christian love and perfection. In order to arrive at some understanding of the prac-tice of virginity, it would be well for us to analyze it right from its origins so to speak, to hold it up to the light of faith so that the full richness of its content, its beauty and splendor might be the more evident so that you might know it yourselves and pass it on to those whom God has entrusted to your guidance and care. To do this adequately I would like to follow a plan similar to that used when treating the practice of evangelical poverty, We will, therefore, consider (1) the practice of chastity in general; (2) what religious chastity adds to the practice of chastity in general; (3) what its aims are; (4) what its fruits are; and (5) some practical suggestions to be used in the training of your religious along these lines. Chastity in General If we were to attempt to define the virtue of chastity we would arrive at something like the following: It is a part of the cardinal virtue of temperance that moderates the use of venereal or sexual pleasures. It receives its name from the Latin word "castigare" which means to curb because this is one of its functions, perhaps the one that is most experiential among us. It is a virtue or dy-namism or spiritual force, a perfectant of our capacities for life, including and bringing our liberty into play. This force resides not only in the soul but also in the body, at least to a certain extent, since the soul impresses its own controlling and directive force over the body. It is precisely th.is, its belonging primarily to the soul, that led St. Augustine to point out that so long as the mind holds to its observance one can never sin against the vir-tue of chastity regardless of what might happen within one's physical or emotional affective make-up. It is a virtue which every human being stands in the greatest need of since it centers around those pleasures which are very quickly aroused and which are more impetuous and which can so easily lead us away from the path of virtue and holiness. And whatever consent is given to them has a way of increasing their attraction and weak-ening the mind and the heart, casting it down from the heights of one's calling. In a sense, nothing so narrows the heart as impurity; and nothing so expands it as chastity practiced in obedience to the law of Christ which is love. Like every other virtue chastity has both a negative aspect about it and a positive one. Negatively speaking it is the absence of impurity, an absence that is not merely the result of temperament or of lethargy, but an absence that is brought about or is due to the directive and con-trolling force which the virtue and disposition of chastity places on one's affective make-up. Thus we mnst dis-tinguish between the spontaneous reaction to movements of the sexual powers and the consent of the will to them. The spontaneous reaction is natural and morally in-different. Without being in any way evil it is rather the sign of a healthy and normal and robust temperament. That is why in speaking of chastity as an angelic virtue we must be very cautious. We are. not to understand that the sexual powers, both genital and emotional, are not felt. This would be to confuse virtue with what might be definitely a deficiency or weakness or mere lethargy. No, a pure person is one who has come to master the attrac-tions of the flesh; he is not at all to be confused with one who is insensible to them.5 It also has a positive aspect about it, one which gives a person a positive orientation toward the whole notion of sex or of femininity and mas-culinity. So understood, the final end of the virtue or perfectant which we call chastity is the integration or harmonization of the passional dynamism or of the geni-tal and emotional spheres with the directives of the mind adhering to the law of the Lord. Its function is not to kill or suppress these areas of human personality but to make them live and function in a way fitting to one's state of life. Thus the upshot of the activity of the virtue of chastity is not the bringing about of insensibility (which would only serve to give rise to traumatic ex-periences later on) but rather integration or habitual sexual balance on all levels of human personality, geni-tal, emotional, and spiritual. The pure person is one who perceives the mystery of sex, its depth, its serious-n We should remember that the virtue of chastity is different from what St. Thomas calls the force of continence. The latter is only an imperfect virtue. Its seat is not in the concupiscible area of man's passionality, but in the will or the area of the voluntarium. The con-tinent person (as opposed to the chaste person) has an understand-ing and a spiritual love of chastity, but his passions are not yet moderated; they continue to have their desires independent of the ra-tional order. They are ordered from within to the desires of the mind. Continence exercises over the passions what we would call a "police action" or a repression that almost forces them to revolt, whereas the real virtue of chastity grows something like a democratic regime in which the opposition collaborates for the common good. Briefly, only the virtue of chastity realizes the successful harmonization and there-fore humanization of the passions and the sexual under the inspira-tion of the mind and will. All sexual education must aim at this Christian humanization and harmonization (See A. PI,~, O.P., "In the Light of St. Thomas," Religious Chastity: Its Conditions [Ottawa, Canada: Canadian Religious Conference, 1963], p. 168). Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ness, its intimacy. A chaste person is one who under-stands the sublime purpose and fundamental significance of sex and" the consequent fearful profanation which its abuse represents. And this is as it should be. For from the very beginning the Scriptures make of human sexual-ity something sacred, something associated with the divine, with the image of God in man. This is by no means the whole story, but it does form the basis of the entire story. Thus the production of human life through the "knowledge" of woman by man, as the Scriptures have it, seems to have been the best image we had to describe creation at this time, since in this production we have creation itself, the womb of the mother being the scene of a direct and special intervention of God Himself. This is the first reason why we believe that human sexuality is especially sacred. Thus femininity and masculinity for the Christian is something that is sacred in a very technical sense; and'when we find it or picture it in Christian marriage it is more sacred still, since it contains and shows forth the redeeming love of God--the love of Christ for the Church and the answer-ing love of the Church for Christ. But to be sacred means first of all to be dangerous, even though it means much more than this. If we profane the sacred we know that we shall be destroyed by it. I think it is safe to say that this is why we have taboos and restrictions in every society surrounding sexuality. These are expressions, or at least they begin as expressions, df the reverence and fear which is proper in the presence of something ~hat is truly sacred. Thus there would be something definitely wrong with a societ~ which did not have some restrictions or taboos placed on se~. It is dangerous not because it is evil; it is dangerous because it is sacred, because it is powerful, capable of destroying the personality of an individual if it is divorced from the world of love and marriage; and equally capable of bring-ing one through the power of grace and the paschal myster.y of Christ to eternal union with God when em-ployed in.the service of love and marriage.6 Thus the pleasures of sex, like those of eating and drinking are good, no matter what their intensity is, if the), are well ordered by the per[ectant of chastity. For it is this which assures that the capacity for love be properly used on all of its various human levels. It is for these reasons that the chaste person is one who does not consider that there is anything base about sexuality, nor does he fear sexual realities unless there is an objectively real danger involved. But he is one who remains at a distance from it and its use in marriage so long as he is not called by God to enter into this way See Hubert McCabe, O.P., "Sex and the Sacred," Lile oI the Spirit, 16 (196l), pp. 70-80. of life. Reverence, then, and acceptance o] sexuality, not disgust or fear or shame, are the fundamental results which the virtue of chastity gives to an individual with regard to the divine orientation of sex indicated to us in the opening book of revelation and developed so mar-velously in the Christ-Church image of St. Paul.7 There is, however, one thing which the Christian attitude toward sex never forgets--that it is possessed by persons who labor under the economy of sin; and that means that a greater caution must be exercised in this matter than would otherwise have been necessary. And it is perhaps this aspect which the modern world in its attempt to bring out its beauty and sublimity has at times overlooked as the problems we are faced with today clearly indicate.8 Virginity or Religious Chastity and What It Adds to Chastity in General When we come to consider this virtue as it affects religious or those who have consecrated their chastity to God, we are presented with certain nuances which clearly 7 Eph 5:22 ft. 8i am not inveighing against current writing on chastity which tends to be entirely positive. This is all to the good. What I have in mind here is the "stress" character of much of this writing; that is, an emphasis placed on one or other elements or ingredient of what is really a very complex or polygoned reality. When this is not understood by the reader of such articles, it is quite possible for rather one-sided views or positions or attitudes or stances to be formed---ones which are not necessarily intended by the author. For example, present-day stress on the need for religious to be immanent, or incarnational, or present in the world, while to a certain extent correct and necessary, has caused a forgetfulness of the transcendent mission and apostolate the religious is called upon to exercise in the Church. Separation from the world is a necessary part of the complex reality of religious consecration just as much as is immanence. This visible renunciation of the world and of some of its values is done not out of lack of esteem for them but in fulfillment of service to the Body of Christ. This is quite clearly indicated in the recent Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Chapter 6, paragraph 46 (English trans-lation in REvmw fOR REL~e~OUS, V. 24 [1965], pp. 716--7). AS Father Congar notes, the religious profession engages the one who makes it to renounce the world as a plan of life to belong more entirely and more definitively to God and His work. The world is a milieu of anrbiguity, filled with occasions of evil, filled with hin-drances that prevent us from being all to God and with seductions that can turn us away from Him. That is why it is essential to the religious life not only to disengage one from the terrestrial and con-secrate oneself to God by the vows but also to separate oneself from the conditions of the life of the world by embracing the rule. I am sure that Father Congar is not limiting his remarks to cloistered communities. See "Les lemons de la thdologie," in Le rdle de la re-ligieuse clans l'Eglise (Paris: Cerf, 1960), pp. 34--5. As he remarks: "A religious is a Christian who in the desire to belong to God with-out reserve, and without going back, goes out of the world and en-ters a structure of life organized for the service of God--which the world is not" (p. 36). The amount of separation will, of course, de-pend on the particular nature of each religious institute. ÷ ÷ ÷ Firginity VOLUME 24, 1965 ~. A. $chleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 836 distinguish it from the virtue of chastity as practiced by other Christians and which establish its peculiar pre-eminence or excellence. The first modification which the practice of chastity by a religious implies is that it provides one with a more ample field or area in which to practice it. For it demands that she abstain from all, even legitimate and virtuous or sanctifying, use of her procreative powers given to her by God. Such an ampli-fication of the exercise of the virtue might involve greater and more protracted difficulties to be sure, but it also in-volves the reception of more grace and supernatural aids. Again, religious chastity differs from the chastity of those living in the world, whether single or married, by its being embraced or ratified by vow. It is especially this nuance which clearly and unmistakably distinguishes the practice of chastity proper to religious or those in the states of perfection from all other forms or types of chastity. Indeed, it is this modification which makes the observance of chastity in the case of a religious pass into the exercise of another virtue distinct from that of chastity. It is St. Thomas who points this out so succinctly in his treat-ment of this virtue. There are two factors which make the chastity of religious a distinct virtue, namely virgin-ity: (1) the resolution to abstain forever from all sexual pleasure proper to the married state; and (2) that this promise be made to God for the specific purpose of de-voting oneself to the contemplation and service of the divine. As he says: "Virginity as a virtue denotes the purpose confirmed by vow of observing perpetual in-tegrity . Now the end which renders virginity praise-worthy is that one may have leisure for divine things." ~ Thus the essential work of virginity is not at all some-thing selfish. It is not a way of protecting one's freedom for the sake of some temporal or earthly career. It is rather the contemplation of the divine. It is embraced precisely in order to make one free for God, for commu-nity and for humanity. If it were not undertaken for these purposes it would very likely lead to self-preoccupation, self-indulgence, and egotistic involvement in one's own problems, terminating in one or other form of psycholog-ical maladjustment. Thus the work of chastity in the case of the religious is the communion with the Word of God either in Himself or as we see Him in our brethren; and this work has been chosen for virgins by God Him-self. This truth was very clearly indicated by Pius XII in his encyclical Sacra virginitas: Here also it must be added as the Fathers and Doctors have clearly taught, that virginity is not a Christian virtue unless it is embraced for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, that is, unless ~2-2, q.152, aa.3-4. we take up this way of life precisely in order to be able to de-vote ourselves more freely to divine things, to attain heaven more surely, and with skillful efforts to lead others more readily thereto. Those, therefore, who do not marry because of exag-gerated self-interest, or because they shun the burdens of mar-r! ag.e .cannot claim for themselves the honor of Christian virginity. In this of course, the Sovereign Pontiff was merely re-echoing the teaching of bofh our Lord and St. Paul: "There are other eunuchs who have made themselves so for the sake of the kingdom of heaven"; "A virgin is free to think about the things of the Lord, that she may be holy in body and spirit." 10 10 Mt 19:11-2; 1 Cor 7:34. Here it might be wise for us to mention the difference between chastity and virginity and the implica-tions which the latter adds to the former. Chastity is a virtue, as we have seen, which excludes or moderates the indulgence of the sexual appetite according to the norms proper to one's state of life. If voluntary chastity excludes indulgence in carnal pleasure for life, it is said to be perfect. If not, then it is said to be imperfect. There are several groups of persons who would fall into this second cate-gory: (1) those not married but who have not renounced the inten-tion of doing so; (2) those who are married when they use their sexual faculties within marriage; and (3) the widowed. (The words "perfect" and "impcrfect" leave much to be desired since they could easily imply unfavorable nuances of meaning; but, at any rate, the distinction is clear.) Chastity is distinguished from virginity in that the latter implies bodily integrity or at least the absence of any voluntary and complete exercise of sexuality. Virginity is a virtue when it is preserved for a praiseworthy motive; for example, for the sake of the kingdom of God. Thus understood, virginity is irrepffrably lost by sexual pleasure voluntarily and completely experienced whether legitimately (within marriage) or illegitimately. It is not lost by the rupture of the virginal membrane (hymen)--this can happen in many different ways (for example, surgical operation, hormonal treatment, horseback riding, and so forth); nor by sexual pleasure involuntarily experienced (for example, involuntary orgasm); nor even by bodily violation un-dergone against one's will even if this should result in pregnancy and the birth of a child. The sole criterion of virginity's presence or absence in an individual lies in the presence or absence of sexual pleasure voluntarily and completely experienced. Consequently, when we equate virginity and religious chastity we are speaking in an ideal rather than in the technical sense, at least usually. Virginity in the strict sense is not required for religious profession. The widowed are eligible for profession as well as those who have had sexual experience outside of marriage whether volun-tarily or involuntarily. It is sufficient that one who has had sexual experience give assurance of being able to abstain from every moral act contrary to consecrated chastity in the present and the future and without any extremely great tensions or disturbances. She must give evidence of being able to live a chaste life not only in deed but in thought and desire, for life, and with a basic calm and peace of soul. It is very important that these ideas be made clear to novices, that is, candidates who have not yet made profession of vows. It is possible that some may have had the habit of masturbation before coming to the convent. This should have been overcome for a suf-ficient period of time prior to admission. It is a sound psychological + + + Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 837 C. A. $chleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 838 It is because of this--that a person vows to preserve chastity perpetually, at least intentionally, when she sets out on the path of the religious life--that her practice of chastity is not just an amplification of the or.dinary virtue as would be true, for example, in regard to religious obedience as distinguished from ordinary obe-dience; no, it passes into the exercise and practice of another virtue, distinct from that of chastity, namely, virginity. Consequently, every act on the part of such a person whether this be positive--using one's womanly make-up, or affective faculties for God, or whether it be negative--rejecting the temptations of the flesh or re-principle that the habit should have been overcome in the same circumstances under which it was contracted and practiced. If the motivation to enter the convent has not been sufficiently strong to enable her to overcome her habit prior to entrance she has not dem-onstrated positive fitness. It is possible for it to disappear for a time only to reoccur later. See my The Theology of Vocations, p. 236, foot-note 329, for further discussion of this case. It is also possible that a candidate may have been guilty of sin with another at some time previous to entrance. If she has repented and emotionally adjusted, there is no reason for her not continuing on in her vocation. If the effect has been negative, however, the answer would be much different. A single experience of this nature could leave a lasting mark on her personality and fill her with feelings of guilt and unworthiness which an entire lifetime could not expiate. She may be entering the convent with the expiation of her fault as the predominant motive for coming. If she does enter, she will be constantly reminded in unintentional ways that she is not a virgin; and every exhortation concerning the spiritual beauties of virginal union with Christ will only serve as a fresh reproach to her. It is possible that she would continually feel inferior to her fellow re-ligious, no matter what her other talents and contributions would be; and she might ultimately come to feel that she does not belong in religion at all, especially when she experiences the crises which we mentioned above. Her sin will ever stand between herself and Christ. If this were the case, or if this would seem to be the likely eventuality, then she should not attempt religion--not because of her initial fail-ure, but because of the effect of this experience on her personality. Finally, if her chastity were violated against her will, it is possible that this could have caused such a traumatic experience as to leave a lasting mark on the girl's personality. This could very easily inter-fere with an easy and calm living of the religious life. It is because of all this that it seems most desirable that the person entrusted with the formation of the novices and postulants, while avoiding any undue curiosity or scrutinizing questions or demand-ing any manifestation of conscience, be able to know the position of the candidates in regard to chastity. This refers not only to moral lapses and temptations but to the whole mass of attitudes, memories, thoughts, imagination patterns, and so forth so that she may be able to help the novice make a correct judgment regarding her sexual maturity in reference to the vow of chastity. If this information is made in confidence, and it usually is, obviously this could not be used in making a decision for or against admitting to profession. But the novice mistress would be able by working with the girl to bring her to see that she does not have the proper qualities for this voca-tion and that she would be much happier in following another walk of life in seeking Christian perfection. The girl herself would then withdraw of her own accord. nouncing certain pleasures (genital,. emotional, and spirit-ual proper to wifehood and motherhood)---has a special excellence about it which it does not have (objectively, at least) ~nd cannot have in one who has not vowed her chastity completely and perpetually (at lea~t inten-tionally) to God. It is for this reason, perhaps, that St. Bernard remarked there, could be no more evident mark of the celestial origin of this vocation; for by it one re-tains while here on earth a resemblance to a purbly spiritual creature in a material world. The Aims of Virginity Proceeding to the aims or goals of virginity, it would seem that any analysis or study would point up the following: (1) it brings about a more perfect freedom of spirit; (2) it enables one to arrive at the closest possible union with Christ; (3) it introduces one into the eschato-logical life of eternity; (4) it effects a perfect holocaust of a human being to God; and (5) it brings about the pey-fection of fruitfulness or motherhood in the case of the religious woman. Freedom of Spirit One of the aims of virginity is to create an independ-ence of spirit from those things which render the per-fect and total service of God difficult. This was clearly pointed out by St. Paul in the famous passage to the Corinthians where the subject of virginity is treated along with marriage.~1 For if one desires to practice virginity, it is so that her heart will not be divided. On this score, of course, we must be cautious. We are not to understand that the whole married life cannot pos-sibly be sanctified. No, marriage between Christians has the power of sanctifying all that is corporal, and, in a sense, to transform the whole of the two persons thus related as Christ to the Church even to the very depth of their life of the flesh. It is a profound form of earthly sanctification such that even the most instinctive and spontaneous bodily reactions of man and woman are sanctified and can become, are meant to become, a com-munion of charity between them. Thus, conjugal love is not at all a stranger to Christian perfection or love, nor does it contradict it. Quite the contrary. Marriage is ordained to manifest or express and realize on the body level both the gift of self demanded by true love and the union of souls already expressed and begun by the physical union. In surrendering her body to her husband the wife realizes an abandonment of her whole being that has no equivalent in the realm of corporal realities. 11 1 Cor 7. ÷ + + Virginity VOLUME 24; 1965 839 4. 4. 4. . A. $chleck, C.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 840 The domain of sexuality constitutes the physical center as well as the corporal sign of what is most intimate, most secret in the person. On account of its purpose as the source of life and as a result of its determinant action on the whole person with whose organism and psychism it is imbued, sexuality occupies a unique position which makes it penetrate to the heart of the mystery of the human person where the meeting of the carnal and spiritual spheres is accomplished. Thus, in surrendering to her husband the right over her own body on the level of sexuality, the wife recognizes an analogous right over her soul. She reveals and gives to him her most profound and personal possession, what constitutes her a different and distinct person from any other. She shows and en-trusts to him the secret of her being that modesty makes her up to this time and will continue to make her hide from all others. Thus the gift of her body signifies and realizes the gift of her soul or rather the gift of her entire person. Among human beings there can be no more total gift; for even the greatest friendship between non-married persons abstains from all communication on the level of marital sexuality and leaves intact this re-served domain whose sharing would perfectly complete the great intimacy already created.12 Enjoying full satisfaction on the genital and emotional levels, the wife does not stop at the lower pleasures and joys but tends with all her strength toward the highest spiritual pleasures and joys. This expansiveness is the fruit of the mutual love that husband and wife bear to each other. The woman finds an answer to the needs of complementarity that she feels within herself, for she finds in her husband the virile qualities that she sought in order to favor the full development of her specifically feminine qualities. At the same time she enjoys the satisfying consolation of bringing to her husband the feminine part that is lacking in his manly qualities. This is the ideal, of course. But because we are crea-tures existing under the economy of sin and redemption, a redemption which is not complete while we make our exodus to the Father, a redemption which still leaves certain weaknesses within our composite of body-soul, a most intense kind of asceticism is necessary to bring into the pattern of holiness and virtue proper to Christ and the Church all the details of the activity of the flesh that is proper to marriage. The soul has to be possessed of as great a depth of intensity as the body, if the freedom and joy and the constant growth in holiness which is meant to characterize Christian marriage are actually to ~ See A. Perreault, "A Factor in Natural and Spiritual Progress," Religious Chastity: Its Conditions (Ottawa, Canada: Canadian Re-ligious Conference, 1963), p. 65. be experienced. The division which is felt and which exists within the human composite and person as a result of the existence of concupiscence or the law of sin within our members is profoundly felt even in Christian marriage where the life of the flesh is lived to its human completion and usually with the greatest intensity. Thus, while it is true that Christian spouses can see the beauty of their union of life and love as a gift from God and while they may vie with each other in seeking Him through each other, desirous of rising above the genital and emotional spheres by integrating them in order to see God in the development of their spiritual life, very small is the number of those who actually attain the full realization of their marriage as blessed by God. No matter how much the will of one who is married be-longs to God, still the heart is no longer His alone. This has been rather clearly indicated by the late Pius XII in an address given a year before his death: Even though marriage is a true sacrament, one of the seven sources of grace instituted by Christ Himself, and even though it involves a mutual offering of one spouse to the other and cements a real union of lives and destinies, still there remains something that is held back, something that is not actually given, or at least, not wholly given. Only virgin souls can make that offering of self that for other souls is an unattainable goal. For these (virgin souls) the first step of their ascent to God is their last step (that is, definitive) and the end of their ascent is at once a lofty peak and a profound abyss.1~ Because the unity of aims is difficult in the married state, virginity acts as a reraovens prohibens or a condi-tion or climate of life that removes obstacles to greater nnion with God and to a greater service of humanity. It is the vow of virginity that establishes one in heart and soul, or in one's whole person, and definitively, in what might be termed supra-human solitude, such that perfect purity and liberty of heart is brought about enabling one to give oneself entirely to the love of God and the consid-eration of divine things and to the service of the com-munity of man. Consecrated virginity is the concern of the human soul that is illuminated by a special grace. For the virgin of Christ is not only obliged to preserve her virginity of heart and body until she marries, but forever, and this by a ~ompletely free and irrevocable decision consciously and joyfully embracing all that this entails on all levels of her being. It is because of this free and irrevocable decision that the consecrated vir-gin is set apart from all other women who though they may be virgins, still have not ratified or confirmed as Pius XII, Address to Nursing Sisters, April 24, 1957; English translation, The States o[ PerIection, ed. G. Courtois (Westminster: Newman, 1962), p. 288. + ÷ + Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 841 C. A. Schleck, C.S.C. R~VIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 842 this status by vow, which implies a permanent proposal (at .least as far as one's present intentions are concerned) to belong wholly ~nd entirely to God. Only faith, of course, can accept the fact that the grace of vocation, the grace of virginal love, includes the grace .necessary to sublimate all the energies o{ nature. It is this grace of virginal love that must make present in the woman consecrating her life to God a balance .similar to that which is given man and woman through conjugal love raised by the grace of matrimony. Perhaps without entirely nnderstanding how this grace succeeds in bring-ing about this balance of nature and its secret inherent powers in the consecrated virgin, we have to admit that her special grace by an action different from that of the gr.ace of marriage makes it possible for her .to reach a development of her person, even human, that is even more profound than that realized in and through the activity of marriage.14 It is in this way that virginity transcends the division o{ our human personality which is necessarily implied in marriage, even though this be sacramental. Here we must be cautious, of course. We do not mean to say that concupiscence and the difficulties of the flesh, the spon-taneous movements and impulses .of the genital and emotional spheres of sexuality are not felt or experienced by one who has t~ken or made the vow of' virginity. What we mean to say is that these things are objectively transcended even though they may be subjectively felt. For virginity implies objectively or by way of a firm and irrevocable decision the renouncement of the sources from which this division within the human, person and the human heart normally proceeds, that is, the con-cupiscence of the flesh. What the married person and her husband must gradually attain through the grace Of marriage--the spiritualization of the flesh--the virgin accomplishes once and for all by entering upon her state of life.1~ Virginity, then, must be seen as a pref-erence of love for a person. It is the turning away from one form of charity only to assume a higher one. Thus it is without any real meaning if it does not denote a _deeply personal love, the decision, firm and stable, to remove from all men the personal mystery of oneself and to open this only to Christ.4n a* See my The Theology o] Vocations, pp. 340-3; and the ~ppendix of my The Sacrament o] Matrimony: d Dogmatic Study (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1964). ~ R. Gleason, s.J., To Live Is Christ (New York: Shecd and Ward, 1962), pp. 126-7. ~o Here we should note that ~narriage also has a way of leading people to a deeper understanding of the excellence of virginity. The disappointment that is inevitable in all human relationships and encoutaters, the apparent or even real inability of the other to return The Closest Possible Union with Christ A second aim of virginity is that it serve to bring about the closest possible union with Christ. This aim, I think, is much more evident and visibly manifest in the case of the virgin vowed to Christ than in the case of the man. We know that the union of the soul with God, both as described in the Old Testament and in the New, has been often and most strikingly proposed as like that which exists between man and wife, such that a human person is likened to the Spouse or Bride of Yahweh or Christ.17 It is obvious that though every person is spiritually able to become the bride of Christ, yet only the woman is able to signify externally and visibly this bridal theme of man's union with God or this marriage which every Christian contracts in the depths of his person by his introduction into the life of grace. Only the woman can be naturally a bride. It is because of this that the reception ceremony of the man and woman is pictured under different external rites. The man is said to die to the world and to rise with Christ; he is said to become a new man in Christ. The woman on the other hand, even though she enjoys the application of this same paschal the love that has been given, leads one to look beyond human love and beyond the human lover for the perfect lover who is Christ. When one falls in love, he or she soon learns through the comparative fail-ure of the other person to provide perfect happiness that this can only be had in Christ. There is a time in all human love when one feels that everything, the whole glory of creation, is summed up in one person. But there comes a time when this feeling passes; and its passing can be a danger unless the individual has learned that the whole of creation, even the person who at one time or another seemed to sum up all its glory, is merely the expression of Him who made these things. Not all marriages are perfect; and the half-returned love, real or apparent, that is only too often the case in marriage is one of the keenest forms of participation in Christ's passion and cross. No human creature can satisfy us, but only God. This does not mean that love in marriage can never bring us peace. It means that there is no peace in love in marriage unless it is the love of God in the other. It means admitting that love can never be completely peace-ful because we never completely love the other in God. Consequently, marriage also has a way of leading one to the intuition which is often given to the one called to virginity: the values offered in human love, when this is supernaturalized, are still inferior to those which are offered to one who gives herself to an immediate union with the Lord. This latter is the anticipation of the life to which every human being will one day be called. Even marriage requires the spirit of virginity; this consists in an interior attitude of attachment and love for Christ which must penetrate into one's entire life. This is diffi-cult in marriage. It takes a long time even for the virgin consecrated to God. And it is acquired by her renouncement of natural affections so that Christ can become her unique love. 1~ For example: Hos 2:19 ft.; 3:1 ft.; Is 49:14-5,18,21; 50:1 ft.; 51:17 ft.; 52:1 ft.; 54:1-10; 60:1 ft.; 61:10 ft.; 62:2-4, 10-2; the entire Canticle of Canticles; 2 Cur 11:1-3; Gal 4:21-31; Eph 5:21-32; Mk 2:18-20; Mt 22:11-4; 25:1-13; Jn 3:22-30; 2:1-11; Ap 6:1-17; 19:6-10; 21:2-27; 22:17. + + ÷ Vlrgln~ty VOLUME 24, 1965 843 ÷ ÷ ÷ C. A. $chleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS theme, is usually said to become the bride of Christ. It is for this very reason that the ceremony of reception and/or profession is couched in terms of a nuptial or marriage ceremony. It is this very fact which shows the true sublimity of the virgin's decision. The veil which she receives at that time is not merely nor even primarily meant to conceal her from the indiscreet gaze of the world or tO hide her with Christ in God. No, it would seem to be primarily a sign of her innocence, of her virginity, of her belonging exclusively and perpetually in a virginal marriage relationship with Christ. For a girl wears a veil only at a time which has some relationship with union--such as first communion, marriage, or death. Of all w6men only the consecrated virgin has tradition-ally from the very beginnings of Christianity worn a veil so that the remembrance of what she has done by her consecration might never leave her mind or heart, that she as well as all others might find in her something sensible and visible, tangible or perhaps better, sacra-mental, to remind them of the spiritual reality which takes place deep within her at the moment of her dedication to the Lord. While all religious of both sexes are obliged to give themselves entirely to Christ, still the sacramentalism of their surrender is not exactly the same. They do not and cannot evoke the same image-symbol. Man evokes the death-resurrection symbol of the paschal mystery or baptism. Woman evokes the bride-symbol mentioned by St. Paul: "He would hallow i.t, purify it by bathing it in the water to which His word gave life, he would summon it into his own presence, the Church in all its beauty, no stain, no wrinkle, no such disfigurement; it was to be holy, it was to be spotless . " "I have betrothed you to Christ, so that no other but He should claim you, His bride without spot." is Thus the woman's role is one of willing submission to man. And the virgin's mission in the Church is to be given up wholly and entirely to Christ, to play the way of the interior life of union with Christ. To sacramentalize what is hidden is a kind of paradox; but it is the paradox of the vocation to vir-ginity dedicated to Christ. All must give themselves to Christ and must belong to Him as Holy Chnrch belongs to Him. But only the virgin, because she is a woman, because she can be naturally a bride, is able to evoke the image of perfect surrender to life in and for Christ and to make it something lovable and attractive. It is in this way that the virgin attempts to live out her own baptis-mal consecration in all of its visibility; for virginity is seen as a sign of liberation from possession by the tem-poral and of consecration to what is eternal or what is ~s2 Cor "11:2; Eph 5:26-7. above. And the virgin is a living, existential sign or sacrament of what Christ has done for us (liberation and consecration) and what humanity must do in return-- voluntary and spontaneous surrender by way of eternal faith and fidelity and love to Christ. The undividedness or singleness of purpose which we find in religious women goes far beyond that which is proper to creature and Creator and even beyond that which is proper to son and Father. It is one that re-sembles the union existing between lover and beloved; virginity is meant to bring about an intense community of life and love, of interests and desires such as is effected by marriage. It is for this reason that the vow of virginity for the fathers and scholastic theologians was equivalent to the .promise to seek perpetually the perfection of the spiritual marriage which is signified in the reception cere-mony or in religious profession when made by .a woman. Like marriage itself, the promise or vow of virginity is meant to have a permanence about it, one that is even greater and more sublime than that signified by an earthly marriage, since it perdures not only in this life but also in the next where it reaches or achieves its fullest realization. In a sense, of itself, virginity is indissoluble--because it is marriage with God. If it is soluble this is only something accidental to virginity; it comes from its earthly condition. It comes not from the bond itself, but rather from some deficiency on the part of the person making the vow. For it is just as easy to fall from the perfection of our engagement with Christ as it is to fall from the perfection of charity itself; in fact, much easier.Just as God permitted or indirectly al-lowed the Jews of the Old Testament to practice divorce, ob duritiam cordis, on account of the hardness of their hearts, until the time of the coming of Christ, so too does He allow a dispensation or dissolution of the vow of vii:ginity, ob duritiam cordis, on account of the weakness of man, until the law of the New Testament opens up into the law of eternity itself where there shall be no marrying or giving in marriage. Thus, the solu-bility of the bond of virginity vowed to God comes from the weakness of man in the face of the perfection of heaven. Both marriage and the religious sister's gift of herself to Christ signify the union of Christ with the Church, but in different ways. Christian marriage not only sym-bolizes the union of the Church with Christ but renews and re-creates it as the Mass does Calvary. And it does so in reference to its visible and tangible fruitfulriess. May we not say that the profession of the surrender of the virgin to Christ renews and re-creates the union of Christ with His Church with regard to the immaculate- Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 ÷ ÷ ÷ C. A. Schleck, C.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ness of this union, its purity and innocence? Why it is not a sacrament is perhaps because this type of union, an immaculate union, is proper to eternity where there is no sacramental economy, where all shadows and images and even sacraments give way to reality itself. Indeed it would seem that to place virginity in the realm of sacramental realities would be to derogate from its excellence and perfection. For it would then take it out of. eternity and place it in time. Direct and immediate marriage with Christ is a state proper to fully realized eschatology and, therefore, does not demand any sacramental sign. It is the state of the bride of Christ in termino, not in via; and in termino there is no sacramental system. If the wife in Christian marriage is said to be the body-person of her husband as the Church is the body-person of Christ, then a fortiori the Christian virgin en-joys a similar relationship; her body-person is His body-person; and He cherishes her as He does Himself, for her union with Christ is nothing other than Christ loving Himself. From this it should be clear that virgins have as their reason for existence the making tangible of the perfect virginity of their mother the Church and the sanctity of her intimate union with Christ. They are those who reject the practice of marriage and yet love its mystic significance.1° ~ Roman Pontifical, Ceremony for the Consecration of Virgins. It has been the rather common conviction of the members of the Church that the reality of the Church needs a "typical" or representa-tive figure, or icon, even though she is so close to us that it is in her that we live and move and have our being. The Church is in some way visible to be sure, even physically, yet she is also remote because in her visible form we cannot touch her inmost reality. What we see and experience in her visible existence is quite fragmented. Both her invisible spiritual meaning and core and the totality of her external unity call for a "type" to personify her and make her present to us. I think that this should be recalled when there is an investiga-tion of the usefulness of the religious habit for women. The religious habit, especially for the woman, is not quite so accidental as some would make it out to be. It pertains very much to the sacramentality of the religious woman's mission or service or apostolate to the Church as the marches at Selma, Alabama, quite clearly showed. I wonder whether endugh attention has been focused on the prin-ciples that should guide any and every thought of change in this regard. These would seem to be of three orders: (I) the pronounce-ments of the Holy See; (2) the purpose of the religious habit; and (3) the circumstances of modern times. As far as the pronouncements of the Holy See are concerned, they are rather moderate. Pius XII spoke on the subject twice, in 1951 and again in 1952: "The religious habit: select one of such a kind that it will be an expression of the inner character, of religious simplicity and modesty; then it will be a source of edification for all; even for modern youth" (Discourse to Teaching Sisters, September 13, 1951). "In this crisis of vocations be watchful lest the customs, the way of life, or the asceticism of your religious families should prove a barrier or be a cause of failures. We are speaking of certain usages which if they had once a certain sig-nificance in a different cultural setting, do not possess it nowadays. The two states, marriage and virginity, are not at all opposed to one another. Rather they overlap. Virginity They are such that a young girl, who is genuinely good and coura-geous, would find them simply hindrances to her vocation. In our exposition on the subject last year, we gave various examples. To re-turn to the subject and say a word on the question of dress: the re-ligious habit should aways express consecration to Christ; that is what everyone expects and desires. For the rest, let the habit be suit-able and meet the requirements of hygiene. We could not fail to express our satisfaction when, in the course of the year, we saw that one or other congregation had already taken practical steps in this regard" (Address to Mothers General, September 15, 1952; a glance at the picture of the audience would have shown that while there were some modified habits, they all had veils or bonnets and were ankle length!). On September 8, 1964, Pope paul VI in speaking to a group of religious women at Castel Gondolfo remarked: "Here we come to the third reason for our spiritual joy in this meeting. It is that of noting your number and your fervor, that there are still today pure and strong souls who thirst for perfection and who are neither afraid nor asha~ned to wear the religious habit, the habit of total consecration of one's life to the Lord." As far as the purpose of the religious habit is concerned, two have been marked out in papal documents: simplicity and modesty, and consecration. It is true that even modern dresses or uniforms would fulfill the requirement of modesty and simplicity. But would they express the consecration and the representation of inner character and mission on the part of the sister--which is bridal certainly? And this symbol of consecration, and of representation was something that Plus wished to be retained and that Paul was happy to see in the religious to whom he spoke. It is on this score--the sacramentalism of the religious life that there is too little consideration today. The religious life is meant to be sacra-mental, that is, a visible expression of (a) poverty and detachment (the bride of Christ in poverty), (b) of obedience (the obedience of the Church to Christ), and (c) of virginity (of the Church's bridal relationship with Chris~, of the final destiny which every human being is to have bne day with God). This relationship can be shown visibly only by a woman as we have mentioned in this article. As a religious sister, it would seem that she has the duty of more publicly or visibly proclaiming this theme to the world than the member of a secular institute or a woman living a consecrated life in the world under private vows. It would seem that she should be the incarnation of the complete eschato!ogical destiny of the Church and of each member of the Church. Since only a woman can symbolize or sacra-mcntalize this bridal theme and eschatological destiny of the Church, wonld it not seem only right that she should perform this mission and function for the People of God, especially today when there is so much loss of the sacred? The objection might be raised that men do not wear their habits in public; why should women wear them then? I think this is rather begging the question and fails to realize the profound difference be-tween man and woman, a difference that is expressed especially in reference to their clothing---or at least should be. Man differs from woman as prose from poetry. And prose is word-sign; whereas poetry is image-symbol. Prose expresses things rather drably in comparison with poetry which offers us a rather unique medium of expression-- symbolic--in which the transcendent becomes immanent. The value of poetry would seem to lie not so much in itself as rather in what it enables us to be. It is profoundly evocative and generally has the ability to bring out a mu~h more engaged response than does prose or the cold reality. Similarly, the clothing of women is much more evocative (I believeI) and tends to bring about a much more engaged ÷ ÷ ÷ Virginity VOLUME 24, '1.965 847 + ÷ ÷ C. A. Schleck, .$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 848 goes all the way along a road on which marriage stops at the hallway mark. Consequently, virginity is situated along the same line of li[e as marriage, though much further on. It transcends the earthly state of the magnum sacramentum spoken o[ by St. Paul.2° And it attains directly to the actual substance of the eternal marriage of the Church with Christ. That is why true marriage [or the fathers of the church was always the marriage of virgins with Christ or that of the human person with the Word of God made flesh. Christian marriage is held to be merely a counterpart of this in the temporal and material or physical older. Thus, to their minds, and it would seem that they are quite right in this, it is the marriage of virgins with Christ that acts as the type according to which earthly marriages are to be modeled, not vice versa. The most glorious thing about marriage is that it can be a sign or symbol of the spiritual mar-riage between Christ and His Church. Yet human mar-riage is not the most perfect symbol of the espousal between these two. It is the virginal espousal that pro-vides a better figure or image, therefore sign or sacra-ment, of this union, since the bridegroom of the virgin is not a human lover, but the Church's own bridegroom, the Lord Himself. The necessity of deepening this conviction for the per-son who has undertaken this way of life in the Church can also be seen from another approach to the meaning of virginity. The virgin must expect to be deprived of response than does the clothing of men. As someone has put it: "Everyone knows that packaging does make a lot of difference." These same observations are just as applicable to the religious woman and the clothing that she wears before the world. Finally, as far as the circumstances of our own day are con-cerned, these would have to be scientifically evaluated. If it could be proved (not just stated categorically as has been the usual pattern) that the religious habit of women is a definite obstacle to many vo-cations, and if it could be proved that both the faithful and the non-members of the Church ]or the most part are opposed to religious wearing habits in public, and if it could be proved that the nun's habit is a definite obstacle to ecumenism, at least for the majority of non-Catholics, then perhaps we should consider the possibility of some change. I am speaking here of the United States, since it would seem on the principle of territorial government that decisions of this nature should be the prerogative of the territorial hierarchy upon consultation with those who are involved. What I am personally afraid of is that an attitude or a stance which is hostile to the religious habit of women is being engendered by an unfavorable press. Often the press does not merely reflect the thinking of the people; it rather creates it, giving the impression that its statements reflect the ma-jority opinion and can be scientifically substantiated whereas often-times this is not true. Becanse of panic and perhaps the deep feminine desire to be accepted, quick changes are made which are deeply re-gretted within a few years. As the Gospel has it, the last state is worse than the first. ~o Eph 5:32. certain delights that only a wife can enjoy. Yet the genital sphere in her will continue to be the seat of im-pulses that will occasion the appropriate responses in her emotionality. Confused feelings can emerge from her nature arousing vague desires for some activity that would relieve the increasing tension. Images can grad-ually take shape demanding an eager and often anxious curiosity. An inexplicable and stubborn need for affec-tion may give rise even to a nostalgia which can make one experience deeply the effects of loneliness that might not have been suspected up to this time. In short, in the sexual spheres of one's personality there might very well appear with variable clarity and intensity a whole world of human warmth that is normally promised to the wife but from which the religious sister feels herself forever excluded. Or else if the meaning of these psychic phenomena does not reach the surface of consciousness, they can create in the emotionality a rather heavy at-mosphere that weighs down the impulses and slows down the activity of the spirit, at the same time as it brings on a rather indefinable uneasiness. The only thing ca-pable of maintaining proper balance at these times is the conviction in faith of what we have just described above, the virgin's spiritual or mystical marriage with Christ. Just as the active and loving presence of a woman's husband multiplies the energies of her being, so too the spiritual resources of the virgin will be continually in-creased by her faith's conviction that she is the object of God's incomprehensible love, by the certitude that she will never be abandoned by Him, and by her trusting sur-render to Him that is inspired by her love for Him. Virginity Introduces One into the Eschatological Life of Eternity From what we have just seen of the life of virginity as a direct marriage of the virgin with Christ, rather than an indirect one through some intermediary who repre-sents Him, it should be quite obvious that virginity in-troduces her into the eschatological life of eternity. Thus its meaning of undivided belonging to Christ in marital relationship is aimed at portraying to the whole world the end of time. There is a common desire on the part of the entire Church to see what a person in eternity, in vision, will be. It is in the virgin's vocation and in her person where this longing and desire ought to be satis-fied and sacramentalized. For her vocation is meant to manifest or make constantly visible for all to see the fact that the fulfillment of all history will be realized with the resurrection of the body. She reminds us that the Christian life here below has not yet reached its final term. It must always strive toward the future and ÷ ÷ Virginity VOLUr~ ~, 849 C. .4. Schlecl~, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 850 can never install itself in the temporal or in-human his-tory in such a way as .to disregard its future term. In fact just the opposite. Consecrated virginity has as one of its first services to the People of God to keep before their eyes the awareness that there is a wofld of realities which lies beyond the present one. It is an anticipated realization of the final transformation of the glory of the world to come inserting itself into our present situation. It is only on account of man's immortality that the risen person need no longer procreate. For the life of the res-urrection is not a life in flesh that is,doomed to die. It is, rather,,a life in God, in Christ; it is the life of man in the Spirit, loved in a body that is transformed by the divine doxa or glory. Hence the functions of the flesh become useless; procreation loses its meaning, which was to make up f6r the ravages of death. The virgin shows by her condition that such a life has already started for the Church. She testifies or acts as a witness by way of symbolized anticipation of the deliverance of the body of the flesh. She proclaims to.all that it is in Christ that man escapes the clutches of death and lives in the Spirit. Thus she is a prophecy in-carnate of the truth that the world of the flesh will disappear and give rise to the world of the Spirit where the flesh will have no power, since this world knows only the fruitfulness that comes from and through the Spirit. She is a constant proclamation to the world that no'sal-vation is to be expected from the flesh. Thus, the virgins of the Church renounce worldly hope but only because they know by faith that the world has no hope to pro-pose. Yet in their apparent loneliness they prophesy and announce and already themselves enjoy by way of special vocation and anticipation in faith the eschatolog-ical vistitation of the Spirit. It is foi: this reason that all persons, even the greatest of sinners, love to see especially in a woman the inno-cence of virginity. An immaculate life is always freshness and poetry and always a joy and enthusiasm and charm that has the power of conquering the so-called uncon-querable. It is because the life of virginity is eschatolog-ical that the virtue of virginity is called the angelic virtue and the state an ~ngelic way of life, for it seems to be a way of liv.ing that is proper to a nature that has bedn clothed with that incorruptibility and immort~ility which come only from the Spirit. Both the angel and the virgin are delivered from the necessit~ for marriage since both in a sense pertain to eternal life or to a life which shares in the eternali'now" of the community in God. From all this, it should be evident that among Chris-tians the life of virginity ought to be considered as th~ most perfect expression of the complete dependence of man upon grace. And of the virgin it can truly be said: "All is grace." For by a special act of God's predilection she is taken out of the ordinary task of humanity and established as a living sign of one whose redemption has reached not only to the soul but also to the body. For to be redeemed most perfectly is not a mere spiritual real-ity. It affects the whole of one's being, corporal as well as spiritual; it implies a necessary relationship with the body. It seems then that we are correct in concluding that virginity is a visible sign or sacramentalization of an internal attitude that ought to characterize every Chris-tian since our incorporation into Christ through baptism demands that we no longer live as pertaining to this world but with Christ who dwells in the glory of the Father. What the married woman does through an in-termediary the virgin does directly without the use of any intermediary; and in this way she shows that she is attempting the heroic, to live on earth as though she were already in vision, as though she were already cele-brating that marriage which is not temporal or passing but instantaneous and eternal. Thus the observance of virginity by some of the members of the Church is not the result or end product of fear, or panic at the ap-proach of some imminent disaster. It is rather an act of faith, hope, and especially of love. And the virgin is a living image of the salvation figure: that Christ has saved His bride the Church by immersing her in the laver of water in the word of life. He has made her die with Him and rise again; and at that moment He has united Himself with her as with a chaste virgin without spot or wrinkle, a bride dead to the flesh and raised to life in the Spirit of God. She is a sign, a constant sacrament or presence-in-mystery of the truth that salvation con-sists in marriage celebrated in death and resurrection; or, if you will, the virgin is a living memorial among us of the Easter mystery of the Church and of each of its members. She is meant to be a constant incarnation of the picture of the Church presented to us by John: "I saw a new Jerusalem and a new earth. And I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven, coming down from above, from God. She was adorned and beautified like a young bride ready for her husband. And I heard ~ voice from the throne cry, Behold the dwelling of God with men." 21 It is thus that the virgin lives already the life of the resurrected flesh and of the world to come, at least in an objective sense and in her heart. 22 Ap 21 : I-3. + 4- Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 85! ÷ ÷ ÷ c. A. Schleck, C3.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 852 Virginity Contributes to Our Holocaustal Offering to God In the total view of virginity we are meant to see not only the notion of self-denial and renunciation which is indeed there and not to be at all minimized in our approach to this way of life, but also another element, the oblation of person that is made directly to the Lord. By the act of her consecration to God, the virgin takes something, her love-life on all of its levels, and makes this holy or as we usually say consecrates this and then offers it as a gift to the One whom she loves. This she does as a sign or testimony of her personal gift to Him alone. Thus perfect chastity or virginity is not only the integrity and purity of body and soul; nor is it merely the renunciation of that aspect of the woman's make-up which gives to her human existence a deep and ex-pansive satisfaction; namely, conjugal love, wifehood, and motherhood. No, it is first and foremost a offering that is most acceptable to God. For the victims that are most acceptable to Him as we learn from revelation are those that are unblemished, undefiled, without stain. It was this thought that was often recalled by St. Ambrose in his preaching to the people of Milan: "You have heard, parents, that a virgin is a gift from God, the obla-tion of parents, the priesthood of ch~istity. She is a mother's victim by whose daily sacrifice the divine anger is appeased." =~ Even in the New Testament, then, per-haps even more so than in the Old, it is true to say that only on condition that pure and unblemished vic-tims be offered to God day and night can we expect that earth will be reconciled with its God. The virgin is there-fore a kind of sacramental continuation of the sacrifices and holocausts of the Old Law, and she is a sign and sacrament of the sacrificial offering of Christ to His Father and of the Church to Christ. She is one who has intentionally made her complete exodus or the total hand-ing over of herself to God. Perhaps it is because of this symbolism pointing to an interior reality that she, like Christ in reference to Mary, is begotten in the womb of a virgin, the Church, on the day of profession. Thus the holocaustal no~e involved in the voluntary acceptance of virginity is not so much negative (although this is surely there) as rather positive. It is the holocaust that is implied in the unconditional surrender, free, total, joyful without fear or torment, of one's person in loving return to God's love. By her consecrated chastity the religious belongs as totally to God as, indeed, more totally than, a wife to her husband. In the heart of the wife no other love can have as high a degree of intimacy = De virginibus, I, 7 (P.L., v. 16, col. 198). as that of her conjugal love; this is exclusive, that is, it excludes all love of the same degree or nature. And this same thing is true of virginal love also. This truth of virginity as contributing to one's holo-caustal offering or surrender to God was brought out rather beautifully by Plus XII in an addregs made to nursing sisters in 1957: It is a truth of faith that virginity is a higher state than married life because the virgin soul binds itself by the ties of complete and indissoluble love directly to God, or, more exactly, to the God-man, Christ Jesus. Actually, all that she has received from the divine goodness to be a wife and mother is offered up by her as a whole-burnt offering upon the altar of entire and perpetual renunciation. The virgin soul in order to be united to the heart of God, to love Him only, and to be loved by Him in return, does not advance toward Him by means of other hearts, nor does she long to converse with other creatures like herself. Nothing is allowed to intervene between herself and Jesus, no obstacle, no obstruction . Since you have been called by God through an ineffable design of His love to this state of predilec-tion, you ought to be in very deed what you are by right, whatever the sacrifice that may be required of you.~ Virginity Leads to the Perfection of Fruitfulness The end for which the vow of virginity is made or pronounced is the perfection of the Christian life, namely, divine love. This as we know has not only God for its object but our neighbor in and for God. Con-sequently, by the very fact that the virgin intends the perfection of divine love, she also intends this perfection according to its all-inclusive object. She embraces vir-ginity precisely in order to learn how to love and be allowed to love with a love that is much more embracing than that which is had by two persons related to each other in the state of marriage. The virgin's love is in-tended to assume the dimensions and depth of the love of Christ and that of the Church. It is much more universal and is given not to any limited number of persons or for time, but rather to many, even to all, and for eternity. This is not something that should appear so strange. For a natural desire implanted in us by the Creator is never left unfulfilled in anyone who is faithful to God's designs. And because it is part of our very nature to wish to communicate life as father or mother, God in calling the virgin to her vocation does not at all deprive her of this desire and innate yearning. Rather, He fulfills this in a most marvelous manner. I think that this truth can be seen in the case of the religious sister by likening her relationship with Christ to that which the Church enjoys =Address to Nursing Sisters, April 24, 1957; English translation, States o] Per]ecti6n, p. 288. ÷ ÷ ÷ lqrginity VOLUME 24, 1965 853 C. A. Schleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 854 with Him in reference to her own virginal motherhood. This is presented rather beautifully in the liturgy of the Easter Vigil in the blessing of the baptismal font. As we know, the fathers often speak of the Church as being born from the pierced side of Christ on the cross, as proceed-ing from Him as life-giver, as the bearer of water and blood, which stand for baptism and the Eucharist. Thus the Church proceeds from Christ's side as bride and mother, as the new Eve coming from the side of the new Adam, joined to Him in His rising. And coming from Him she receives and communicates His life. She is flesh of His flesh and bone of His bone; she is His body-per-son in the most profound sense of this expression. Thus, it is always His life which she does and must communi-cate. It is this same Church which prays on. the night of the Easter Vigil that the Holy Spirit, the Spirit who proceeds from the risen Christ, by the secret infusion of His grace and light, might give to the font of baptism which is the virginal womb of the Church, the power to bring men to life in the risen Christ, that a generation of immortal and eternal children may rise from this spot-less womb, that she together with Christ through the power of His Spirit might beget the people of God. The Church that came into being on the cross is a mother: mother of the faithful, mother of those living the resurrection life. In God's plan Christ submitted to the sleep of death so that from the wound in His side the true mother of the living might be fashioned and formed. As our physical life is from Adam through Eve, so our resurrection life is derived from Christ, the new Adam, through the Church, the new Eve, our mother. This is the meaning of the action of the priest when in blessing the baptismal water, he dips the lighted candle (the sym-bol of the risen Christ) into the water. It symbolizes that Christ crucified and risen gives to the water the illuminating and life-giving power of the Spirit; it signi-fies that the baptismal font has become the immaculate womb of the Church, the bride of the risen Lord. Like Mary, she is intended to bear her children solely by and through the action of the Spirit of the risen Jesus. Something very similar is true in the case of the reli-gious sister also. That is why she is usually compared to Mary, the Virgin Mother, and to the Church, the im-maculate spouse of Christ. She is their sacrament or prolongation, if you will. Thus, virginity is a "yes" not only to being virgin-spouse, but also to being virgin-mother. The theme of virginity is allied to whatever is deepest in the human heart, and it lies at the .very genter of the Catholic Church. In consecrated virginity there is found one of those paradoxes so characteristic of the Christian life: "He who loses his life shall find it; if the grain of wheat dies, it brings forth much fruit."-°4 The role for which God has fashioned the woman, that of motherhood, is not only not annihilated through the perpetual practice of virginity, but it is brought to its highest and most perfect fulfillment and achievement-- because the virgin exercises her motherhood over a greater number of persons and with respect to the highest life possible for man, that of life in and with God. It is only in the virgin's conceptions that no sin is passed on to the offspring but only grace, only the life of God Himself, as is true of the conceptions of the Church herself. Hers then is a quasi-divine, maternity, something like that of Mary, and like that of the Church. The love which prompts virginity is not sterile; rather, it is essen-tially creative, because it is of the divine order. When the woman through her promise of virginity is assumed or elevated to this order, as the woman is elevated to the order of her husband through marriage, she is called 'to share most perfectly in the love of the God-man, in the creative activity of the God-man. Consequently, what she "creates," what she brings forth in and through her union with Him in virginity is divine or quasi-divine. We might say that it was the plan of God in the present economy of salvation to establish the communication of divine life upon virginity. For He Himself chose to become incarnate of a Virgin, He chose for His spouse a virgin without spot, and He manifested His special and preferential love for the virgin disciple St. John. More-over, we might note that in the course of history the strength and dynamism of the Church's life has usually been proportionate to the strength and vitality of the institution of virginity. Wheri that has suffered, so too has the life of the Church; and when this institution has been held in high esteem and flourished, so too has the dyhamic force of the Church. Seen in this light, then, the mystery of virginity in-cludes as one of its.highest perfections and its crowning glory, motherhood, such that the virgin who belongs to Christ can be likened to snow on a mountain top or peak whose purity and whiteness are constantly being supplied by an invisible divine activity from above and yet which is constantly melting under a warming action of God's love in order to bring life-giving water to refresh those living in the valleys below. It is in the institution of virginity where we find the highest activity and out-pouring of the woman's nature. There is something that is. put into her life which cannot" come from herself, the ability to give life, the ability to be mother. By the vow of virginity the virgin does sever herself from physi-cal procreation; but she does this only in order to be "~ Jn 12:24. Virginity . VOLUME 24, 1965 855 ÷ ÷ C. A. Schleck, C~S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 856 able to enter ever more fully and entirely into the spirit-ual procreation of human persons into the life of God. She achieves her motherhood by communicating faith and by engendering men in faith. Thus, while the woman's profession of perpetual chastity consecrates her to a life of perpetual virginity and physical barrenness, it also consecrates her and blesses her for a participation in the universal and immaculate motherhood of the Church throughout the entire world. Her procreative activity is not static; rather, it is dynamic and constant, occurring whenever she turns to Christ which is always and surrenders herself to His every need and request-- the poor, the neglected, the homeless, the sick, the unwed mother, the ignorant, the aged--wherever human need asks for a response. The woman who is called sister by all others is mother in the full sense of the word-~be-cause her every activity has become a form of motherhood nurturing Christ in those persons who form her family in God. Her loving care is for the holy children whom she has conceived by the action of the Holy Spirit; for them is the warmth of her loving concern and her maternal interest and love. To be pure and untouched and wholly belonging to God and yet to be mother is the unique marvel of the mother of God in the physical order and of the Church in the spiritual. But this lies also at the very heart of the vocation to virginity in the case of the woman. It is only in this way that she can continue in her own existence the function and role and mission and aposto-late of Mary and the Church--to teach the world that only a virginal motherhood is compatible with a divine motherhood. Consequently, the phrase which the Church in her liturgy applies to Mary type of the Church can also be applied to the consecrated virgin: "Having the honor of virginity, you also have the joy of mother-hood." 25 This does not mean that the life of perpetual virginity does not have its difficult moments when the person so committed feels the renunciation involved in giving up all hope to physical motherhood. But this is part of her God-given vocation. "He who wishes to follow me let him take up his cross and follow me." While the cross stands as a symbol of triumph it also stands as a sign of suffering and love. With her Lord the virgin has chosen suffering and silence and suffering in silence. For she knows that it is only at the foot of the cross that she, like Mary and like the Church, will be enlarged in heart and mind to mother the world for Christ and unto Christ. She freely and lovingly accepts the crucifixion Antiphon [or First Vespers of September 8. implied in her renunciation of motherhood so that she like the Lord can bear about in her body the death of Jesus, the death that works life in man. It is in the pain of renunciation that the ~;irgin begets her spiritual children. It is extremely important that the crises involved in this renunciation be faced before the commitment is made. For there are shadows in every life, in virginity or marriage to Christ as well as in marriage to man. As a matter of fact, the virgin may actually experience more depressed hours when life seems fruitless and empty than her married counterpart in the world. The basic need for maternal fulfillment will be felt. The reason for this is that the sexual instinct has not merely to be controlled and mastered; it must be made an integral part of the spiritual life. It is a mistake to think that the lofty ideal of spiritual motherhood can be achieved without travail and without periods of discouragement and disappointment. And it is characteristic at such times that renunciation seems overwhelmingly real, while fulfillment on a spiritual plane is so remote as to seem effectively non-existent. And then the virgin will be in-clined to think of the joys of family which she has re-nounced and may even be tempted to regret or seriously question her lifelong decision made previously. She should then recall that all motherhood, spiritual as well as, perhaps even more so than, physical, is achieved only through suffering. Thus, her renunciation of physical motherhood is not something that she does once and for all by means of some formal resolve. She must constantly renew this commitment and gradually impress upon all the various levels of her personality her faith conviction in her spiritual motherhood in and through her union with Christ. It is only in this way that she can experience a sense of fulfillment that will parallel the fact of fulfill-ment with reference to this basic and natural need of woman. The proper attitude of mind is so important. For the way a virgin thinks about her life will determine to a great extent how successfully she lives it. Thus, sex iden-tification before embracing the life of virginity is essen-tial. For the sex role of the woman who dedicates her person to Christ is quite different from that of the woman who marries and bears children or that of the woman who anticipates doing these things. The virgin must accustom herself to think differently from the lay woman; and yet she must accept herself as a woman, as one having in God's plan who made her a woman, a definite sex role to play. She renounces the expression of sex on the natural plane, but she does not and cannot renounce her womanhood and consequently the fulfillment of her sexual role. In her sex is supernaturalized and eschatol-÷ ,4- 4- Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 85'7 C. A. $chlech; C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 858 ogized, not excluded. Thus it is very important for her never to renounce her womanhood even subconsciously but rather to think often of herself as spouse and mother on the supernatural plane. The invitation to virginity is not simply nor primarily an invitation to a life of re-nunciation. It is rather an invitation to a life of unioa with Christ, a union which is spousal and maternal. The virgin can achieve her womanly fulfillment only if she succeeds in living this life in union with Christ. Once she realizes this truth and lives it and loves it, her life, like that of the Church after the Easter Vigil and that of Mary after the Resurrection, will become a quiet Alleluia, a gentle song of joy which meets the rise of day in the suffering night which we call time. Like the woman of the Apocalypse she will stand as a sign in the heavens, above the changing vicissitudes of time represented by the moon, and yet still in some way undergoing the pains of childbirth3G For the virgin of the New Testament like. the bride of the Canticle must still seek her Beloved and find Him in the night of faith.'-'7 Thus, while virginity is often associated with impo-tdnce and sterility, it is in reality associated with omnipo-tence and fruitfulness. It enriches the woman's capacity for love and for motherhood rather than diminishes it. There is a virginity about God the Father and God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. Never is man more manly nor woman more womanly than when he or she gives his or her virginity to God. I think that it is true to say that behind each of the active and contemplative religious women of the world there ought to be one single inspiration--the maternal love of the Mother of God for Christ and that of the Church for the Lord and for His Mystical Body. It is only where this spiritual reality truly shines forth in a religious sister that her vocation will become ti'uly attractive and serve to correct so many of the aber-rations'and sins which are part and parcel of modern life. For her fruitfulness is unlimited. It is as radiance emanat-ing" from her person, and those who app~'oach her will be embalmed with what Paul has called the sweet fra-grance of Christ.2s There will be always a kind of divine force that will ~o out from her to touch souls and to make them show forth the glory of her Spouse. From what we have just seen regarding the aims of virginity, it should be quite clear that virginity does have a very profound apostolic dimension. It is quite definitely ecclesial or Church orientated. It is extremely important that there exist within the Church as a service and Ap 12:1-4. Cant 3. ~s 2 Cor 2:15. mission or apostolate to it the profound and total con-secration of one who renounces all else so that she may know Christ and the power of His resurrection.29 Far from being out of commission or decommissioned, the virgin, by her consecration alone, without any added work of charity, is taken from the ranks of the faith-ful and commissioned for another task which has a profonnd ecclesial perspective. It is extremely important that she be convinced of this unwaveringly, since it will be very helpful in the resolution of the conflicts that she will often experience between her professional and re-ligious duties and obligations. Moreover, from a scriptural point of view virginity is undertaken or embraced by one as a special giving of oneself to the kingdom on God on earth as well as in heaven. It is seen to be a close personal bond with the Lord in apostolic service to the Church, such that the personal bond with Christ is seen also as a more intense bond of service toward the community of the brethren. Thus the woman whose capacity and forces are unfet-tered by the duties of generation remains totally free for the communication of the Father's love and totally free to be a sacrament of grace. It is not at all accidental that charitable works in the Church have been and are still being performed by virgins consecrated to God. For the personal bond with Christ develops of its own accord into brotherly love. And in this way also does the life of virginity fulfill a social mission with regard to the Church and especially with regard to married life: the virgin points out in her very existence the very heart of married life--the two-in-oneness opening up into dis-interested selLgiving. She has become one with Christ for the purpose of giving her entire life to His service as well as to that of the Church, His spouse. It is in this way that she proclaims not only that she wishes to see God but also that she is preeminently a daughter of the Church.a0 How simply all this has been stated by the fathers of the Second Vatican Council in the Constitution on the Church: Through the vows (or other sacred commitments similar in their own nature to vows) by which he obliges himself to the three evangelical counsels already mentioned, a member of the faithful is totally dedicated to God loved above all things with the result that he is destined to the service and honor of God by a new and special title. It is true that by baptism he is dead to sin and consecrated to God; however, in order that 'he might derive greater fruit from his baptismal grace, he decides to free himself by his profession in the Church of the evangelical ~ Phil 3:10. ~0See E. Schillebeeckx, O.P., "Priesthood and Celibacy," Herde~" Correspondence, v. 1 (1964), pp. 266-70. + + + Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 859 ÷ ÷ C,. A. Schleck, .$. . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS counsels from the impediments which might keep him from the fervorof charity and from giving God a perfect worship; and he consecrates himself in a more intimate way to the divine service. This consecration will be the more perfect in propor-tion as stronger and more stable bonds provide a better rep-resentation of Christ who is joined to His Bride the Church by an indissoluble bond. Since the evangelical counsels, by reason of the charity to which they lead, unite those who take them to the Church and her mystery in a special way, the spiritual life of those taking them should be consecrated also to the good of the entire Church. Hence there arises the duty of labor--in accord with their capacities and the nature of their vocation and either through prayer or active work--to enroot and strengthen the kingdom of Christ in souls and to spread it everywhere. It is for this reason that the Church preserves and fosters the character-istic nature of her various rehgious institutes. Accordingly, the profession of the evangelical counsels ap-pears as a sign which can and should effectively influence all the members of the Church to be unwearied in carrying out the duties of their Christian vocatior~. Since the People of God do not have a lasting city here below but are seeking the one that is to come, the religious state, by giving to its members greater freedom from earthly concerns, also gives to all the faithful a greater manifestation of the heavenly goods already present in this world, not only witnessing to the new and eternal life won by Christ's redemption but also prefiguring the resurrection that is to come and the glory of the heavenly kingdom . Finally, in a special way it clearly points out the preeminence of the kingdom of God over all earthly things as well as the supreme imperatives it entails; and it shows to all men the supereminent greatness of the strength of Christ the King and the infinite power of the Holy Spirit that is at work in the Church in so wonderful a way.~ Finally, one other apostolic service which virginity serves to keep before us is the dignity and value of the human person. Like the solitary flower of the mountains far up at the fringe of the snow line, like the unap-proachable beauty of the poles and the deserts of the earth that remain forever useless for the service and purposes of man, the virgin proclaims that the creature has significance but only as a glow from the eternal ra-diance and purity of the Creator. Her inviolability which if it be purity always includes pain denotes a sacrifice that is the price for insight into the immortal dignity and value of the human person. The contemplative life which regarded from a religious angle gives service in evidencing man's final destiny in God, when humanly considered, means for the most part a lack of fulfillment. So too, the virgin by calling forth a complete release from every visible womanly fulfillment enables us to catch sight of the ultimate, the transcedental meaning of the human person. If it belongs to the mother to transmit man's history-making capabilities into a given generation,' sl Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Chapter 6, paragraph 44; English translation, REVIEW fOR RELXG~OUS, V. 24 (1965), pp. 714--5. it belongs to the virgin to guarantee these capabilities of man as a person, to point to the "sublime significance and meaning and value of the individual person. In this way, the virgin is also mother. For her very virginity ren-ders a service to the race and communicates something extremely vital and important to the generation in which she lives. The Fruits o[ Virginity Virginity might be considered to be a special charism of the new covenant, just as is the visible activity of the Spirit of God, the Person of Love in the Trinity. And it points tangibly and constantly and. visibly to the superi-ority of the law of Christ over the old law. For the law of Christ is not written on tablets of stone but rather on the hearts of those who believe, who commit their persons totally to the demands of Christ. It is the law of the Spirit, breathing where He wills; it is the law of generos-ity, one that imitates and reflects that of Him who gave birth to the Church in the act of His complete surrender, His exodus to the Father. Virginity is an act of [aith in the significance of the paschal mystery which is the beginning of end-time for humanity. It is an act o~ hope because it can be undertaken only at the invitation of the Lord upon whose strength and assistance those whose hearts have been made large enough for this gift depend. But it is above all an act o~ love, because it indicates a preference of love for a Person or Persons who alone can fulfill the depths of the human heart's desire to love and to be loved. Thus love is perhaps the outstanding fruit which comes as a result of fidelity to virginity. The more pure a religious is in her life, the more faithful she is to Christ, the more clearly will He unite Himself to her in love. The reason for this is in reality quite simple. The more we think about a person, the more we begin to love him if he has attractive qualities. Since virginity is embraced precisely in order that one might think about the Lord, as Paul says, the more ought the virgin to love the person of the Lord, to possess Him and to be possessed by Him even though this be in the darkness of faith. Thus virginity by its very tende.ntial nature, is meant to bring about the fullness of divine love or charity. It is in this way that its observance enters into the theological order of things. Just as poverty, as we saw, was ultimately or-dered to the perfection and development of the virtue of hope, so too, the observance of virginity is ultimately ordered to the growth and increase of charity, thereby making its unique contribution to the trinification of the human person through faith, hope, and charity. It is in this way that the very nature of woman which is love (a personification of the essential and proper note of 4- 4- Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 86! C. A. $¢hleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 862 the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity) finds its most perfect flowering in the institution of virginity. As the virgin grows in love for Christ, her heart and her mater-nal dimensions will open and widen more and more; [or she will see more and more that her home is God, her children the world, and her possession and being pos-sessed personally, the peace of willing and complete sacrifice. In addition to this growth in charity through vir-ginity, several of the gifts of the Holy Spirit are also per-fected and made more operative in the spiritual life of the virgin. The first of these is the gift of understanding. The connection between virginity and this gift is indi-cated by St. Thomas when he remarks: "Pleasure fixes one's attention on that in which he takes pleasure. Thus, indulgence in the pleasures of the body causes one's attention to be firmly fixed on carnal things, thereby weakening his opera,tion in regard to intelligible things. The observance of chastity disposes a person quite well for intellectual operation." as The very nature of woman as we mentioned in the first of these articles includes the gift of intuition. And that is exactly the kind of knowledge that is given to one in and through the activity of the gift of understanding. In the case of men where we find logical operation predominating, we also find rather predominant the gifts of the Holy Spirit that are connected with reason. In the case of woman, how-ever, who is more intuitive, more spontaneous, and more instinctive by nature, we find the gift which corresponds more to instinct and feeling. It seems only logical to suppose that God would reveal Himself to woman in a way proportionate to her sex as a God sensible to the heart. Since the gift of understanding is closely con-nected with intuition, it would seem that woman pre-sents to the Holy Spirit a more connatural subject for His activity in relation to this particular gift. Was this not perhaps what our Lord meant when He said: "Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God"? 8s Still another gift of the Holy Spirit that is deepened and made more operative through the practice of vir-ginity is that of wisdom. The more closely united to one another two persons are, the more intimately do they exchange the innermost secrets of their hearts; they do not consider they are revealing these so much to another person as rather to their other half. Consequently, it would seem that virginity, because it involves the perfec-. tion of love and the centering of one's entire affective life on God, opens up to the person making this com- ~ 2-2, q.15, a.3. ** Mt 5:8. mitment an availability for the knowledge-communica-tion of the Holy Spirit that comes through love. This is the function of the gift of wisdom--to dispose one for connatural affective knowledge. It is by the presence of this gift in her heart that the virgin can voyage far and wide into that world which for the majority of others lies far beyond the present one. And it is only on con-dition that she herself make this journey and make it often that she can truly return bringing back something of what she herself has tasted and seen. Finally, another effect or fruit deriving from the prac-tice of virginity is the increasing possession of something like or similar to the grace of Mary's Immaculate Con-ception. One of the purposes of the grace which is given to one consecrating her virginity to God is to establish a stance with regard to purity and the complete emancipa-tion from sin which this implies and also with regard to a certain fullness of grace, at least by way of availabil-ity. When God loves someone He pours or infuses into her a share of His own goodness and perfection. Since He loves the one whom He calls to virginity with a special love, it would seem that He makes available for her a rather special grace-communication. Just as Mary be-came filled with grace and communicative of it through the grace of her Immaculate Conception, so too the vir-gin's call by God is meant to communicate to her some-thing of this same gift; that is, a fullness of grace with respect to emancipation from sin and to mastery over sinful tendencies and with respect to gr~ice-communica-tion or to being a sacrament of grace. Like Mary she is meant to be pure and communicative of grace. Practical Suggestions With all this before you, Mothers, you might be wondering what practical steps you can take in order to educate your religious to an understanding of the vow and consecration of virginity. Without pretending to present any sort of exhaustive list of suggestions the following might serve to point out some areas where a start could be made. 1. Part of virginity as we mentioned above consists in the renunciation of the goods of marriage--the physi-cal, the physiological, the psychological, the emotional, the genital, and the spiritual values that are involved in wifehood and motherhood. Consequently, these things should be recognized positively and specifically for what they are. I might suggest that sometime before the novi-tiate all candidates have had a course in marriage; that is, the normal and complete course that would be given in the ordinary girls' high school. This should include or be completed by a course in anatomy and human physiol-÷ ÷ ÷ Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 863 ÷ ÷ ÷ C. A. Schleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 864 ogy as well as biology. Many o[ your candidates already have these when they come to you, but it should be made a mandatory thing for all seeking entrance to the novi-tiate. I do not mean of course that you are going to leave the matter at this. In juxtaposition to the course on marriage the lif~ of virginity and the values involved in it should also be explained, not as fully as in the novitiate and the later years of formation, perhaps, but in such a way that the excellence of virginity over marriage (ob- ¯ jectively speaking, o[ course, not subjectively) might be grasped. In the educ~ition to chastity two things are to be stressed: (1) the presentation of virginity in such a way that it be seen as perfectly capable of fulfilling the highest aspirations of the woman; (2) the establishing within this way of life, embracing as it does one's whole being and person, body, soul, emotions, and spiritual powers, nature and grace, such order that each element will fit into its proper place. The reason for this rather thorough education is quite simple. Consecrated virginity is a supernatural reality, but it must be lived in the reality of human conditions. In its profound ideal, it involves a person in her en-tire or complete being. It is the whole being, the total woman that is voluntarily handed over to Christ and to His transforming love. Such an act of surrender presup-poses that the person making it has full knowledge of herself. A woman is not really committed until she gives her whole person, for the love gift which is proper to virginity must be expressed within the framework of a body-soul composite wherein the body also becomes a means of expressing the love that is entailed in the con-secration. During the period of formation, postulancy, and novitiate, the candidate should be informed especially about the conditions that are required for the growth and development of religious chastity. Thus, the physical conditions should be explained; that is, the normal conformation of the sexual organs. Otherwise there is the risk that organic disturbances would complicate or render the problem of chastity more difficult or that psycholog-ical disturbances would arise from a sexual malforma-tion that is not properly grasped for what it is. Again the psychological conditions required for growth in chastity must be explained. She must be informed of the meaning of sexual continence and of the risks that are inherent in it. This education mnst not be merely cere-bral, so to speak, reaching only the mind of the candidate. It should be aimed at forming the entire person, intel-lect, will, imagination, heart, emotions, bodily reactions. She must accept sexual reality as an adult, without fear or shame or disgust. And she must accept and consent to virginity and all that this implies on all levels of her personality, if she is to make profession, and she must do this freely, totally, joyfully, and forever, at least inten-tionally. She must also have explained to her the spiritual conditions necessary for religious chastity to take root and develop; that is, the mystery of consecrated virginity or chastity, the mystery of the Church, and the relationship between the consecrated virgin and the Church. This training would also include certain theological attitudes or stances--of perpetual chastity as an act Ofo free and voluntary charity or love, implying an exclusive intimacy with Christ and leading to a spiritual motherhood. Again during this same period of formation the can-didate must be educated to respect certain things that are involved in her consecration. First, she must be taught to respect the being of man and the being of woman. Vir-ginity is not lived nor expressed in the same way by man as by woman. It is most important that in regard to chastity each retain the character of his or her own sex. From the very beginning of the Church as we men-tioned above there has always been in the Church a special relationship between virginity and woman. It is woman who is bride; it is woman who possesses a cer-tain delicacy of attitude toward the Lord; it is woman who possesses naturally and to a greater degree the self-giving generosity, and the joyful devotion in sacrifice that is involved in virginity. In fact, men draw their inspira-tion in reference to the delicacy involved in virginal con-secration from women. Thus, this education to respect must start with what man, and woman really are and it should leave intact what they are. Second, she must be taught that she has to respect her own development. Every person has an age, often two of them, the ap-parent age--the physical age, and the real age. So often a young woman of 18 or 19 seems to be far in advance of her counterpart of twenty years ago; and she is per-haps intellectually. But it does not at all follow that because she has seen or heard so many things that her counterpart saw or heard only at a much later age, that she is thereby formed or matured. In reality the real age of such a person, at least emotionally, is often closer to 14 or 15, since the social structure in which we live gives birth to what might be called for want of a better term, emotional retardation. Thus it may happen that such persons will undergo emotional crises proper to adoles-cents at a much later date than was considered normal a decade or so ago. And it is at these moments that they will seem to be and are at sea as an adolescent normally would be. It is not only the supernatural which they need at these moments; they have to learn to accept and humbly bow to a certain number of conditions, feelings, + ÷ ÷ Virginity VOLUME 24, 1965 865 ÷ ÷ ÷ .4. $chteck, .$.(2. REVIEV~ FOR RELIGIOUS 866 reactions, and transitions which are natural and normal to persons of what we called above their real age. And finally, they must be taught to respect their own personal history. Before one is capable of free and voluntary acts she is already determined to a certain degree, according to many modern psychologists. She has her heredity, her background, her temperament, and her childhood ex-periences. Her freedom does not consist in trying to repudiate all this, or change it, or wipe out the past, or start from the beginning. This is impossible. She must accept the fact that she enters the religious life with what she is, with what she has, and with what she has done, and with what has happened to her. It does her no good to run away from all this, or to pretend that it has never happened. No, the very first act of her liberty or freedom should be to know herself and to accept herself for what she is in reality, and again, at all levels of her personality. This acceptance is absolutely ]undamental in the matter of chastity. If she does not consciously accept this, she runs the risk of building her religious life on a falsehood, on an impossible ideal for her own person, on a vain hope of some spiritual existence that is totally ephemeral. And sooner or later this will most likely bring on a psychologically disturbed climate rendering the life of perpetual chastity difficult if not unbearable. And the religious herself would most probably be un-aware of the possible causes of her disturbances.~4 Thus because of a failure to accept one's history and sex certain spontaneous though involuntary reactions in the genital and emotional spheres could ,easily cause anxiety. They could seem to be intrinsically evil rather than natural and normal given her personal history, and she might at-tempt to oppose them by trying to drive them out of the field of consciousness. This constant action on her part could create a psychic tension that would prove to be rather favorable as a climate for the appearance of some kind of neurosis in the future. By dint of repressing her sexuality or of allowing it to infiltrate illicitly into her daily activities, the religious woman who would not have resolved or faced up to the frustrations which she ex-periences in the genital and emotional spheres of her personality could very easily become the victim of some psychic disorder requiring the intervention of a com-petent psychiatrist. Moreover, she would probably risk seeking uncon-sciously and by rather devious ways the satisfaction of these sexual impulses which would be disguised perhaps under the appearance of genuine and apostolic and there-fore acceptable "involvements." And she would perhaps, refer the reader to what was said in footnote 10 above. without even being aware of it, permit the establishment within her person of a rather unhealthy psychological and affective climate wherein a disturbed sentimentality would evoke images and arouse desires of a partly dis-guised sexual nature and import. In such a person, an exclusive friendship would find a rather favorable and fertile field for inception and growth. Finally, during these years there should be a thorough education in regard to modesty and all that this means, the necessary duty flowing from the virgin's commitment to Christ, of guarding her human affection and of using it properly, of regulating the use and non-use of her senses especially through recollection and custody of the eyes. The training of the affections both as to use and re-straint is most essential. Previous to a short time ago, perhaps the emphasis was somewhat one-sided--the re-straint of the use of the senses. Perhaps this very neces-sary aspect of modesty can be balanced with a more positive phase: the various uses and ways in which their love (which must be personal and directed to a person) is to be used. However, they are also to be reminded that their sacramental mission and service to the Church will always demand a much greater restraint in regard to the use of their senses, especially the eyes, than their secular counterpart. Religious always have the added mis-sion of proclaiming visibly the Christian truth that we have not here a lasting city. Their very religious vocation demands the renunciation of certain values perfectly legitimate for the secular. As the Constitution on the Church has it: Furthermore, all should clearly realize that the profession of the evangelical counsels, though it involves the renunciation of values which without any doubt are of great worth, neverthe-less does not prevent a true development of the human person but by its very nature makes a very great contribution to that development. For the counsels, freely undertaken according to the individual's personal vocation, are a great help to purifica-tion of heart and to spiritual liberty; they constantly enkindle the fervor of charity; above all, as is shown by the example of so many holy founders, they are able to give the Christian a greater conformation to the type of virginal and poor life which Christ the Lord chose for Himself and which His Virgin Mother embraced. Nor should anyone judge that by their consecration religious alienate themselves from men or become useless as far as earthly society is concerned. For even if in some cases religious do not directly associate with their contemporaries, still in a deeper sense they are present to them in the Heart of Christ and work with them in a spiritual way so that the building up of earthly society may always be based on the Lord and orientated toward Him lest those who build this society should labor in vain.~ ~ Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Chapter 6, paragraph 46; English translation, REWEW FOR I~Lt¢~OUS, V. 24 (1965), pp. 716-7. VOLUME 24, 1965 867 + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 868 It is absolutely essential that you recall this to your religious from the very first days of their training. For we are living in the days of a return of humanism in which as the same Constitution on the Church mentions "the faithful must learn the deepest meaning and the value of all creation." s0 But we must not forget ours must be a Christian humanism--one that is not free to arbitrarily choose between the mysticism of the cross and the mysticism of the resurrection. Moreover, ours is a human-ism that is proper to religious, that is, one that renounces and voluntarily so (otherwise hostility to this renuncia-tion will be the result) certain values for some other service to the people of God. The recent letter of Pope Paul VI to all religious rather clearly pointed this out: With singular care religious should preserve chastity as a treasured gem. Everyone knows that in the present condition of human society the practice of perfect chastity is made difficult, not only because of the prevalence of depraved morality but also on account of the false teachings which glamorize excessively the merely natural condition of man, thereby pouring poison into his soul. An awareness of these facts should impel religious to stir up their faith more energetically--that same faith by "which we believe the declarations of Christ when He proclaims the supernatural value of chastity that is sought for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. It is this same faith which assures us beyond doubt that, with the help of divine grace, we can preserve unsullied the flower of chastity. To obtain this blessed objective it is, of course, necessary to practice Christian mortification with more courageous zeal, and also to guard the senses with more diligent care. Therefore, the life of the religious should find no place for books, periodicals, or shows which are unbecoming or indecent, not even under the pretext of a desire to learn things useful to know or to broaden one's education, except possibly in the case, duly ascer-tained by the religious superior, where there is proven necessity for the study of such things. In a world pervaded by so many sordid forms of vice, no one can adequately reckon the powerful effectiveness of the sacred ministry of one whose life is radiant with the light of chastity consecrated to God and from which he draws his strength?' In regard to this education in modesty, we should not forget that education in chastity includes an education in the over-all significance of temperance. Thus all the virtues which share in the spirit of temperance should also receive attention in the formation to religious chastity, for example, clemency, kindness, moderation, humility, studiousness, moderation in gestures and dress. This education in the early formation is necessary for two reasons. First, there is no greater danger to the perseverance in perpetual chastity than ignorance of ~ Dogtnatic Constitution on the Church, Chapter 4, paragraph 36; English translation, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 24 (1965), pp. 704-5. arAddress on Religious LiIe, May 23, 1964; English translation, REVIEW fOR RELIGIOUS, V. 23 (1964), p. 701. what it involves. Knowledge of what one is, of what one is giving up, and of what one is positively embracing is the greatest preventive of future disappointments. Sec-ond, the more a girl sees the excellence and beauty of virginity, and the more she sees that its negative implica-tions have not been hidden from her, and the more she sees that the beauty of marriage has not been cloaked over, the more will she begin to love the special grace which God has given her in calling her to the religious vocation and the more gratitude will she have toward the community's openness with her, and the more free and entire will be her response to the values as well as the difficulties involved in her vocation. 2. The knowledge given during these early years of formation will not and cannot and should not necessarily be exhaustive; nor will the young candidate under-stand everything that may be given. Consequently, this education and training in chastity is something that must be developed through the next years of formation espe-cially but also even throughout the entire course of the religious life. This can be done through conferences, through private and guided reading, through discus-sions, and through the formal courses in theology espe-cially those treating of marriage and the states of life. During the years of the juniorate and the summer pre-ceeding perpetual profession, and again during the spirit-ual renewal, a very frank treatment of the crises, emo-tional and physical, which the religious woman will undergo at certain ages should be clearly pointed out to them. Thus, often today because of the emotional retarda-tion of society as a whole, there is the crisis of high adolescence occuring in the late twenties. At this time very strong desires for physical union with man and for motherhood can be felt rather intensely. There is also a rather profound psychological crisis through which a religious sister passes in her thirties. At this time she generally experiences a certain boredom with the re-ligious life and vocation. It no longer seems to satisfy her emotionally, nor does it seem to be producing the womanly fulfillment that she had expected when em-bracing this way of life; hence she experiences a certain frustration. Moreover, at this time she becomes much more deeply aware of her own personal capabilities and begins to resent the restrictions of the religious life claim-ing that they reduce her to the level of a child; hence she seems to need more independence. This state brought on often by the psychological or emotional change (a kind of a drying up in this area) through which she is pass-ing can very easily induce problems in regard to obedi-ence and authority (especially if her predominant in-÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 24, 1965 869 C. A. Schteck, C.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS clination is toward independence) and/or in regard to sensuality (especially if her predominant inclination or need lies in this direction). As a result she often tends to seek compensations for these situations: criticism of authority, the circumvention of authority in regard to permissions, the maintenance of rather odd or haughty positions on questions of discussion, or the forming of very close friendships, tending to the exclusive side, or deep involvement with the personal problems of students or patients, or romantic day-dreaming or solitary sin--in brief, the usual compensations a human being seeks when the burden of obedience and chastity is really brought home. These compensations can take and very often do take the form of less harmful involvements: an exaggerated interest in sports, or in music or other forms of culture, or an over-immersion in one's pro-fessional work, and so forth. Regardless of what form this compensationalism takes, it is a running away from an unpleasant experience rather than a facing up to it and a deriving from it what God intends it to pro-duce-- a deepening of one's commitment to Him. This transition period should serve to make the woman's service and commitment and love go to deeper levels of her personality so that it becomes more deeply human, more spiritual, and less dependent on emotional satisfac-tion than was true earlier in her religious life. It is a kind of a "dark night" if you will; but one intended to pro-dt~ ce the same result as the one spoken of by St. John of the Cross, namely, a more profound and ultimately a more peace-communicating union with Christ. It is not something to be feared, but rather looked forward to since it is an invitation on the part of God who created our nature to advance one step further in the maturation process of the human person. Far from destroying per-sonal fulfillment, it makes it more available. Again it is another instance in which the application of Christ's words are so true: Unless the grain of wheat die and fall into the ground, it remains alone; but if it dies, it will produce much fruit. Again there is the crisis of the menopause years which brings on, generally speaking, rather profound emotional changes and" disturbances. It often produces a revival of almost adolescent urges and feelings and impulses of a sensual and sentimental nature, quite humbling to say the least. Very often this transition period in the woman's life brought on by a profound transformation of her organism brings on a loneliness and a deep feeling of uselessness brought on by the loss of what she has come to identify with the very essence of womanliness--regular ovulation and the ability to bear children. At this time, too, just as was true in the above transition period, the religious sister can run away from her predicament rather than face up to it and even embrace it with eagerness, since this transition too is provided for by God Him-self, the author of her nature, and is an invitation from Him to advance another step forward in the overall matu-ration process of the human person in its feminine expres-sion. Far from destroying or annihilating her femininity, this transition is intended to expend its activity, making the woman more available for society, more capable of bringing to its service the wealth of her emotional and spiritual qualities enriched by the maturation of her personal experience, and possessing the peace and calm and serenity that are so necessary to give a more balanced direction to its many needs. The experience of these transitions is, of course, unique for each woman; but a knowledge of it and

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PLEASE REMEMBER That by sending your orders to us you help build up and devel-op one of the church institutions with pecuniary advantage to yourself. Address H. S. BONER, Supt. 1 The CClevQUpy. The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College. Vol. XIII. GETTYSBURG, PA., FEBRUARY, 1905. No. 8 CONTENTS 'WHERE PROVIDENCE PREVAILED," , . . 246 BY MISS HARRIET MCGILL, '06. THE NOVEL OF SENTIMENT,* 25.0 "IMBEM." THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE, . . . 259 BY H. F. SMITH, '07. RELIGION AND SOLITUDE, . 265 BY SAMUEL E. SMITH, '07. THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF A MILLIONAIRE,*' . . 268 "NOMEN." EDITORIALS, . • . 274 EXCHANGES, ". .276 ♦Contributed for Pea and Sword Prijze Essay Conteat. LiUlMUflMfti i \| 246 THE MERCURY. WHERE PROVIDENCE PREVAILED. Bv Miss HARRIET MCGIU., '06. THE woman waited; as in the lulls of the moaning, De-cember night wind, she heard the sound of sleigh bells mingled with the laughter of happy lovers, who sped swiftly by, she smiled, then gave a little sob, and smiled straight away again. "For what," she said, " if the waiting is long, one has always the past as a companion." Yes, "as a companion" and as such, Time had been kind to the woman. True, he had streaked the black hair with grey, and hardened the strong large hands with marks of toiling, but these things mattered little, for had he not left the great dark eyes undimmed? Just as twenty years ago, when they had look-ed frankly up into the face of the man whom their mistress call-ed ''husband," and smiling through their tears, spoke more plain-ly than any language the great word "courage," even so had they looked ever since into the face of Old Father Time, and looking smiled; no wonder then that he could not dim them. And the man : he also was waiting; the woman waited in a room bare and cheerless, the room of a servant in a great city, that of the man was equally bare and cheerless, it was the pris-on cell of one whom the world called "criminal." Now comes the strange part of our prelude, in the fact that neither of these people knew, how that for which they waited would come to them. Those who had placed the man in his present position, knew well how to make arrangements, by which his wife should not be permitted to see him. He was "in for life," and it was granted, even by the faithful few who remained true to the conviction of his innocence, that his case was hopeless. Yet throughout the twenty years, firmly, as upon the day of their parting, had these two believed in the hope of deliverance, and trusted, as it is the lot of few to trust. The night wind also sighed and moaned around a rude log cabin, that lay a tiny speck upon the broad stretches of the great western prairie. Lonely, sequestered, isolated, truly might ^HHHH THE MERCURY. 247 * * this humble home have been called the " Lodge of some vast wilderness," so far was it removed from the haunts of men, so little did its inhabitants know about the lives of their fellows, in the great outside world. ■ Here, upon this winter night of which we W rite, the good wife of the house, a plain, simple, country woman, who had, up to this time, lived her even, uneventful life, in a spirit of honest contentment, lay down to rest, worn with the day's work. This woman knew nothing of our convict or his wife, the story of the crime whose tragic consequences had involved him in ruin, and blasted the life of the girl whose eyes said "courage," had never even reached these humble prairie dwellers, and when Marie Cor-douy closed her eyes that night, she expected nothing but the "sleep of the just," the usual reward of her hard labor. Instead —well let us hear the story of her dream; she says, "I was there, and yet not there; for somehow I know that the girl I saw was alone, after she bade her sister good-bye, saying that she would go through the wood to the farm of a neighbor who lived about two miles away. I can see her now as she walked along, she was a pretty girl, with hair like gold, and eyes like the "bluets,". which grew all around her in the forest, as she walked among them barefoot, her shoes in her hand, for she took them off to save them, when she came to the wood. So she walked on for sometime until she came to a large rock that stood out on the bank of a stream, and here she sat down to rest, for the day was warm, and she tired. Suddenly two men crept out from the trees behind the girl. One was tall with a scar 0.11 bis face, he seem-ed to be middle aged, the other was smaller, and from his looks could have been a son of the first. Just as she sat there, with-out any thought of harm, those men rushed on the girl, and throttled her, then they carried the poor tiling, into the bed of the stream, and foully murdered her there, while the water washed away the signs of their bloody work. When it was done, they went back to the rock and tried to move it. At last they got space enough to dig a kind of a grave underneath, where they buried the girl, her shoes beside her, and the knives with which ■^^■HnuAfl-fi 248 THE MERCURY. they had stabbed her. When I saw them sneak away, through the trees, the horror of the thing awakened me." So great was this horror, that Marie awoke her husband, and told him of the dream, but, saying that it was nothing, told her to try to sleep once more. Yet again came the dream, as viv-idly as before, and then again, three times, did she have it be-fore morning came to deliver her. Still John Cordouy said that it contained no portent, and advised her to forget it, this how-ever was easier said than done, and from that nig*ht Marie was a changed woman. The dream never seemed to leave her mind, its weight oppressed her, and finding no sympathy in John, she yet persisted in telling her gruesome tale, not only to him, but to any chance traveller whom she could persuade to listen.— Finally, for the world is a small place, after all, the news of the dream reached the ears of the woman who waited. Teresa Jardain, wife of the supposed murderer, whose life imprisonment instead of death because of inability to find the body of the girl, had been secured by the man who accused him ; a man high in power, a tall man, with a scar on his face. .This man's son had once loved the dark eyed beauty of Teresa, who had refused his offer of marriage, and had afterwards been spurned by the girl, whose strange disappearance had so affect-ed the life of the Jardains, the neighbors, to whose farm she was last seen starting out. Now into Teresa's life, since her brave fight against the world began, had entered much wisdom ; it was as the " wisdom of the serpent," and with it she determined to save her husband, and see his face once more. As has been said, there were some few friends remaining who believed him innocent; to these men Teresa went, with the strange story of the dream, implor-ing their aid. At last this plan was agreed upon. Two of these men, who were fortunately wealthy and influential, went secretly to the prairie home of Cordouy, disguised as travellers. As usual Marie, eager for listeners, related the story of her dream, she seemed to find relief in telling it as often as possible. They then took Cordouy into their confidence, and proposed to him a trip through the East to the place where the tragedy occurred. BBlnflftFi THE MERCURY. 249 Marie would of course accompany them, and should she recog-nize the surroundings, identify the men, and find the body of the girl, the murderers might be forced into a revelation of the truth. In the meantime the story was to be kept secret so that they might be taken off their guard. Their plans were strangely successful, when Marie, in the course of their journey, reached the neighborhood where the murder took place, she seemed to grow more and more excited, at last she could stand it no longer, and told the others that this was the place of her dreams. Eagerly leading them into the wood, (a. strange place remember, where she had never been before,) she hurried on until she reached the rock by the streamlet, and began in her haste to dig away the earth beneath it, with her own hands. She was however persuaded to give place to work-men, who arrived with suitable tools, and soon dug from their resting place of twenty years or more, the skeleton of the girl, the knives and even the remainder of the shoes, which lay by themselves, near her head, showing that she had worn them. The story now spread far and wide, and the real murderers, fail-ing in an attempt to flee the country, confessed their guilt, and met the punishment which had been for so long a time delayed. The night winds no longer moaned around the prairie cabin, with a story of duty left undone, its sound bears rather comfort to the woman within, her mission is fulfilled, Marie Cordouy is satisfied. No longer does a captive, Paul Jardain, stretch im-ploring hands, behind his prison bars and implore it to bear the message of his innocence to the world. The weary watch of Teresa, the woman who waited, is over, for Providence worked a miracle with the passing of the night wind. [D1^B^HHHHHEthere are many novel readers who might express the bitterness -of their experience in the lines of Thompson— " Ah from real happiness we stray, By vice bewildered, vice which always leads However fair at first to wilds woe." Every man has a model for his life, an ideal, and how much -does a man's welfare depend on the ideal which is enshrined in ihis heart of hearts ! Any force which has the power of chang-ing ideals should be (both) helped and hindered in its opera-tion, aided that it may effect the greatest good and hindered Jest it accomplish the most of evil. Fiction has shaped ideals and it is moulding ideals today and in many cases this is being ■done with great injury to humanity. Too many of our novelists picture woman as an angel or a fiend. At one time they por-tray woman, as the flatterer, the seducer, the destroyer, and as-sociate her with such deadening villianies that she appears as .a veritable Medusa petrifying all that is noble in the nature of man; while at another time, under the spell of their pens she ■■■■■■■^■■■■H ■: , ' '\U- U --- v - -^ 256 THE MERCURY. stands forth as semi-divine a creature too wondrous for daily contact with the world. From a social standpoint, it is truly alarming to observe the opinions which are held by thousands-of the male sex concerning women, and not a few of these de-praved ideas can be traced to the popular novel. While wo-man can fall lower and can also attain greater heights than* man, yet the vast majority of women occupy a middle plane where virtue is a companion and the ordinary duties of life keep the angelic qualities in the background. It can safely be said that the average work of fiction is too radical in depicting the characters of women. Somewhat allied to the above topic is the illusive idea so-prominent in current fiction that it is an absolute fault to be commonplace. All real life is commonplace. It is a round of duty and service and only once in a great length of time does a man spring forth who rises above his fellows. Anything that derides the homely toil of the private citizen or makes men* dissatisfied with their station in life by infatuating them with visions of power selfishly attained, must be characterized as-pernicious, because it places false ideals before the eyes of men. There is also an influence at work today of the same nature,, that makes the securing of wealth the one thing for which men should strive, and many novels of the twentieth century are strongly imbued with this spirit. After an examination of many popular books, it is found in numerous instances that wealth is regarded as the greatest thing in the world. This is-not done in a direct way, but is brought by a hint here and a* suggestion there, benumbing reason and calling into action all that is sordid in the soul of man. Thus there are novels which speak of millions with an air of studied carelessness, while others recount the struggles of a hero who begins life as a poor boy and finally becomes the possessor of hundreds of thousands and even millions. Such ideas held out before the young peo-ple of today are most harmful. While wealth is- desirable, it is of secondary importance. It does not bring character nor happiness to its possessor, and is often a hindrance to noble endeavor. How refreshing it is when some novelist deigns to> m WIUHMWJIlllWi THE MERCURY. 257 give to the public a story of the poor, of people in ordinary-circumstances, showing to mankind that riches are not the passport to happiness. Let our writers take Thackeray for their pattern. That the ideals in our current literature may be truer and nobler, let our talented authors acknowledge Dickens their patron saint and tell to humanity the strange story of the toil-ing world. When the character of the novel of sentiment has been re-viewed, the mind naturally becomes alert to observe the effects of reading popular fiction. The results are only obvious when, after the reading of books, an investigation is made among one's friends, and every man looks into his own soul, with a view of discerning their exact measure ot influence. Many surprises await one making such an investigation, but probably the most astonishing is the fact that the opinion of many people can be known if one is familiar with the last book which they have read. In other words, too many men and women accept the statements of books without applying the test of common sense and reason. Thus, through the frailty of humanity, the novel of sentiment is efficacious for much of good and evil. The greatest fault, perhaps, of the twentieth century novel is the depraved condition of the mind which it produces. By its stimulating power the novel gives an unnatural tone to the mind and brings it into such a condition that there can be no true appreciation for the more noble works of literature. The public libraries and the ones in many colleges testify to the pre-vailing order of affairs, since it is stated on good authority that nine-tenths of all the books which are taken from their shelves are fiction. A doctor of divinity of the Presbyterian Church confessed not long ago, that while he was visiting a neighbor-ing minister and helping to conduct evangelistic services, he found a set of historical novels in the library of his friend, and having become interested, he did not rest until he had read the entire series. " During that week," he said, " I read three of those novels and I had such a feverish interest in them that I purchased the entire set as soon as I returned home." In- 258 THE MERCURY. stances of such fascination are numerous among all classes, and they are destructive to true mental development. Again, the novel of sentiment, within whose pages vice and unnatural affections are so vividly portrayed, debases ten while it is helpful to one. By many it is argued that the immoral book is the most severely moral because it shows to the reader the blackness of evil. This is a fallacy which has always been urged concerning sin; it is the siren voice of the tempter. Such arguments have destroyed the virtues of a multitude. How shall their falsity be shown ? The philosophy of the poet in the lines so frequently quoted reveals the truth— " Vice is a monster of such frightful mien, As to be hated, needs but to be seen ; But seen too oft—familiar grows her face, We first endure; then pity ; then embrace." Throughout the body of this essay a spirit of criticism has been manifested toward the novel of of the last twenty years. In view of the facts such criticism is needed. But praise should be given to authors like Ralph Connor, who has written books with a definite purpose. However, it is very difficult to select really good novels from the great mass of fiction. An inquiry, with the purpose of obtaining a basis for the discrimination be-tween the good and bad in fiction, makes a most fitting con-clusion to our observations on this subject. Under what cir-cumstances is the novel of sentiment a safe agent ? Only when some noble purpose fires the writer; only when the author has some real message for humanity in his book. Sentiment con-nected with the fickle things of life becomes a demoralizing power. The average novel is dangerous from its lack of prin-ciple and purpose. Thus it must be said that this lack of prin-ciple in most of our sentimental novels characterizes them as unfit for a place in our libraries. THE MERCURY. 259 THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE. BY. H. F. SMITH, '07. ■** their greatness to the long struggle between France and England," says Thiers in his History of the Consulate and Empire, in speaking of the sale of Louisiana by Bonaparte to the United States. This statement contains two views in them-selves somewhat debatable: First, Whether the United States is indebted for its birth to France. Some think in all proba-bility we would have gained our independence without the aid of France. This could be so and yet the indebtedness not be lessened, for France did help us by the revival of spirits and by material means in the battle of Yorktown. Second, that we are indebted for our greatness to the long struggle between France and England, and not so much to ourselves, we shall en-deavor to establish. In so doing let us look at matters from the French side instead of the American side, and it is proper to do this, since it came to us through French statesmanship with little agency of our own. ' Except the Floridas, the thirteen original colonies with their western claims extended to the Mississippi. Colonization was for France a question of life or death. The French were es-pecially active in this line. As colonizers they far exceeded the English in brilliancy. They were more energetic, persis-tent and courageous; but when an eminent Frenchman had achieved anything great, he was so v?in or ambitious as to wish no other Frenchman to share his glory and would even in some cases war against a rival; furthermore he was not sus-tained by the home government. But the primary cause of lack of results was internal dissention, a constant warring among themselves. Had the energy which they directed toward one another been applied to the obstacles to be overcome, " they would have been consumed as a pathway through the Alps was eaten by the vinegar of Hannibal." The noble Champlain, the indefatigable La Salle, Cartier, Jberville, and Bienville, all figured in the establishment of set- 26o THE MERCURY. tlements in Louisiana. Men were kidnapped and sent over by the thousands. Women became so scarce that cargoes of marriageable girls, filles a la cassette, so-called from the little trunks in which each prospective bride carried the trosseau pro-vided for her by the government, were sent over and on arrival at the levee, were speedily and happily mated. But in a series of wars culminating in the defeat of Montcalm by Pitt and Wolfe combined, all of what were before known as the Colonies Western Claims, were lost and France had only New Orleans and the unexplored area west of the Mississippi. On account of these misfortunes France thought it best to-give up her scheme of colonization and develop home interests. So, desiring an ally in her weakness, she secretly ceded Louis-iana to Spain. This treaty was long kept secret and was much lamented. When the news was broken to the Creoles, the con-sternation was similar to that of the Acadians when they were entrapped. This stripping of France of her American posses-sions created a craving for revenge which was fully satisfied when she helped to tear the thirteen colonies from England, The Louisiana subjects remained true to the French in their hearts, although Spain ruled them generously. Napoleon now became almost absolute ruler with the title of First Consul. He had marvelous schemes of colonization and immediately set about to regain Louisiana. Godoy, who was the power behind the throne in Spain, fearing a probable attack by England, negotiated a treaty very advantageous to us, satis-factorily establishing boundaries, and the " right of deposit " at New Orleans. But when Spain became hopelessly dependent on France, Godoy resigned in despair. A treaty was then negotiated with Berthier, Bonaparte's agent, by which France was to have Louisiana and also the two Floridas while Spain was to have a kingdom of at least one million subjects taken from the French conquests in the northern half of Italy, over which was to be set the Duke of Parma, husband of the infanta, the daughter of Carlos IV. This treaty was negotiated Oct. I, 1800, and was considered by Mr. Adams the source of our title to Louisiana. The king of Spain did ■■nCMBlnMIMrlBwHtHMHMMIIl THE MERCURY. 26 r not as yet sign the treaty. All subsequent treaties were but modifications of this. After some time Napoleon sent his brother Lucien to Madrid to finish the treaty, but he did not succeed in obtaining the king's signature because Godoy who was recalled to power suc-ceeded in bribing him and thus baffling Napoleon. France then prepared to take Louisiana by force and would probably have succeeded if the San Domingo Revolution had not occur-red and blocked all the schemes. But on Oct. 15, 1802, Na-poleon through his agent secured the king's signature but only under most exacting conditions. The United States now comes upon the scene. A new Presi-dent, Jefferson, sat in the presidential chair. " Peace is our passion," was one of his favorite sayings. When it became known that France was dealing secretly with Spain for the retrocession of Louisiana, the West and South, who hated the Spaniards, became wild lest the French getting New Orleans would close the lower Mississippi to commerce and thus ruin them. Accordingly a new minister,' Robert R. Livingston, was sent by us in August, 1801. He was set against the supercilious, deceitful, and arch dissimulator, Talleyrand, who denied every-thing, with some truth, for as yet the king of Spain had not given his signature. But we received definite information from our minister in England. Jefferson thought that trouble was imminent. In 1802 Morales, the civil officer of New Orleans, abrogated the right of deposit, closing absolutely the Mississippi to the United States. This right had been enjoyed since the treaty of 1795. By that treaty it was to last for three years; but at the end of that time, the right was suffered to continue. Now that the right was taken away, the alarm in the West made war seem inevitable. But matters were somewhat calmed by the Spanish minister at Washington and the Governor of Louisiana disclaiming the action of Morales. Jefferson now hit upon a scheme to allay the turbulent ill-humor of the settlers; but in this plan he 262 THE MERCURY. builded far wiser than he knew. He sent a special envoyv James Monroe, to buy outright New Orleans and Florida, with #2,000,000 in hand. The French envoy at this point used his influence to get Napoleon to do away with the interdict of Morales. Monroe had definite instructions : I. He was to purchase, if possible, New Orleans and the Floridas, and he might expend up to #10,000,000 rather than lose the chance. 2. Should France refuse to sell even the site for a town, the old right of deposit as granted in 1795 was to be tried for. Should that fail, further instructions were to be awaited. Jefferson was de-termined to have peace, and showed great moral courage and strength of character in maintaining so steadfastly, in that war-like age, his noble attitude. But if Napoleon would not have wanted to sell Louisiana, no statesmanship or money on our part could have bought it. After they had first sold it to Spain, there was nothing but re-gret, which was not satisfied until negotiations for its retroces-sion were begun. We have seen with what zeal these were pushed. Now that it was in his grasp again could anything tear it from him ? We have said that Napoleon had marvellous schemes of col-onization. The building of a New France in Louisiana was one of them. But his plans were doomed to failure. His own campaign in Egypt and the project for the great invasion of India by Massena had first come to naught; now his schemes in the Occident were meeting with disaster. In San Domingo,, general and army had perished under the weapons of the blacks and the stroke of pestilence. The gloom of a mighty European struggle was ominously looming up on the national horizon. At this time occurred the incident in the drawing room of Josephine, when Napoleon, without any ceremony,, went up to the British ambassador and after an insulting con-versation said that he would have Malta or war. Joseph, Napoleon's other brother, first became apprised of Napoleon's intentions and then informed Lucien. Their cha-grin and astonishment were unequaled. Napoleon had deter- ' Pe.2±fj:#uvaiatf#IHwlBIMR^KHAB[lafl THE MERCURY. 263 mined to get funds to carry on his war with England, to dis-pose of the whole of Louisiana, quite independently of any de-sires or wishes on our part. We see now, as we said in the beginning, our acquisition of Louisiana, and hence our great-ness, depends on the- long struggle between England and France. Napoleon had determined to do this without in the least consulting the Chambers or people of France. In so doing he was risking exile or even his life. His brothers, therefore, were greatly concerned and determined to prevent him from doing this. They formed a plan by which Lucien was to see Napoleon first, and if possible break the ice or lead the conver-sation to Louisiana, and then Joseph was to appear; in this way Napoleon would not suspect their collusion. Lucien found Napoleon in his perfumed bath. He tried to broach the Loui-siana topic, but Napoleon always talked about something else. Finally it was time for Napoleon to leave his bath and they had not reached the Louisiana subject. At this point Joseph knocked for admittance. Napoleon said he would stay in his bath a quarter of an hour longer and had him admitted. Lu-cien whispered to him that he had not yet broached the sub-ject. A stormy interview followed, only Napoleon's shaggy locks and gleaming eyes were above water. Their tones reached a very excited pitch and Joseph rushed at Napoleon. And here occurred the wonderful bath-room incident. Napoleon was so angered that he raised himself from the water and then suddenly fell back, giving Joseph a good ducking. Lucien then followed with a quotation from the Aeneid, which drew the electricity from the cloud and discharged it harmlessly. Then when Joseph had withdrawn, followed an almost equally stormy interview with Lucien. But this only hastened the matter, Na-poleon being anxious to commence his war with England. Words cannot describe the labor and extent oi the work which Livingston accomplished. He won the admiration and respect of Napoleon and Talleyrand. One of his duties was to obtain payment of the spoiliation claims. He wrote a series of papers elaborately setting forth the expediency for France to 264 THE MERCURY. dispose of New Orleans and the Floridas to us. These, per-haps, won him the respect of Napoleon. Far in advance of other statesmen he even showed that it would be best for France to sell us that part of Louisiana north of the Arkansas River, which turned out to be the best part of the bargain, in order to separate Canada or the British'from her province. Then, too, he had to deal with Napoleon, who would accept no counsel, and the wily Talleyrand. Furthermore, he did not have very definite instructions. But, as said in the beginning, we would never have gotten Louisiana by any efforts of Livingston or anybody else, had not Napoleon desired to dispose of it. Now when Livingston had all but accomplished his task, Napoleon offered the whole of Louisiana, and Monroe came in over Livingston. Napoleon had another object in selling Louisiana. If he should retain it, England might, through her all-powerful navy, wrest it from him ; while .in selling it to America, he would make a power which one day would humble England. Marbois, the French agent, and Livingston and Monroe were on very friendly terms, which greatly facilitated matters. Of course our commissioners never dreamed of the whole of Lou-isiana, but Livingston agreed to take it, and three treaties were made: 1. As to the cession; 2. As to the price, and 3. As to the spoiliation claims. It cost us #1 5,000,000, minus the spoli-ation claims. As Jefferson was a strict constructionist, he really overstepped his power in his own opinion. A storm of opposition arose which was gradually overcome. We have not time to discuss this opposition or the results, but will merely state a few of the results: (l) it secured to us the port of New Orleans, the entire control of the Mississippi, and it doubled the area of the United States ; (2) it strengthened the bond of Union in the Southwest; (3) it gave new force to arguments for internal improvements; (4) finally, it weakened strict con-struction and encouraged the interpretation of the Constitution according to the spirit and not the letter. - THE MERCURV. 265 RELIGION AND SOLITUDE. SAMUBI. E. SMITH, '07. WHEN these terms are considered in the sense in which they are ordinarily used, there seems to be a certain impropriety in using them together. The average man thinks of religion as something tangible. Not infrequently is the re-mark made concerning someone that he has very little religion; •which statement would point to the fact that religion is often considered as a kind of veneer, which can be placed over the lives of men for the instruction and helping of those about them. How then can solitude, which implies a separation from men have any relation to religion ? The preceding idea of religion is a very superficial one, although it is widely accepted. Religion has a deeper significance ; it is as its root meaning implies "a thinking again;" it is potential rather than kinetic •energy; it is z;«planted and never /m«jplanted into an indi-vidual. Such is the quality that is to be considered in connec-tion with solitude. All religions have had their origin in solitude. Ab'ram was sent by God into the eastern wilderness ; Moses was alone with Jehovah on Sinai; David had much time for reflection while tending his flock; the prophets were children of the desert; John Baptist was a son of the wilderness; and the Saviour of the world had his forty days, and very often during his active ministry he felt the loneliness of the midnight hour. Thus, in •solitude, there sprang forth from the souls of these men the principles which are the foundation stones of Christianity. Mohammedanism had its beginning in a cave a few miles from Mecca. Mohammed left the busy city and retired to that lonely spot for days at a time. He said that it was there the angel Gabriel appeared to him and told him of heavenly things which he should make known to his fellow-men. The new faith spread over many a mile of sea and land until it reached the rock of Gibraltar, and the Moslem hordes were dreaded in the great cities of Europe. Such was the power of the religion which was conceived of in the lonely cave near Mecca. As 266 THE MERCURY. the beginnings of great religions are studied it is found that all burst forth in solitude. Solitude has been the conserving force of every religion. The lonely vigil, the contemplations on divine things, has done more than the preacher and sword in keeping alive the great religions of the world. The monk in his gloomy cell, who-spent almost countless hours in meditation and fervent devotion,, gave the impetus which made the Roman Church the mighty agent which it has been. Even the savage races of mankinJ can be called upon to furnish examples. Without a doubt the crude religion of the American Indian was kept up by the in-fluence of solitude. In his solitary journey through the forest he saw his religions in the rocks and trees and streams. Where the Indians were deprived of their solitude by the advent of the white man, almost immediately they lost their faith in the Great Spirit. Christianity, today, shows the relation between" religion and solitude. The greatest preachers are those who-spend the most time apart from the rush of the world; the most truly religious are those who have spent many an hour in solitude. When the lives of the great ministers of our country-are considered, it is found that nearly all of them were brought up in the country, where the youth is compelled to spend a great portion of his time with nothing to keep him company but the voices of nature. Indeed, it can be said that every re-ligion enjoins its devotees to spend a part of each day in soli-tude. -Thus religion and solitude are very closely'related, and one is inclined to speculate as to the grounds on which this relation) exists. There must be solitude before religion can manifest itself. To understand how this can be true it is imperative that religion should be defined with the greatest precision. Al-ready it has been shown that it is not a tangible thing. But the definition must not stop with this statement. Religion is intuitive; it is a divine essence rising up in the sub-conscious-mind ; it is a spark which shows unmistakably that man is in-deed a son of the Infinite. Thus the religious impulse of the lowest savage is just as strong as is the desire of the civilized 1.1,. ,11. THE MERCURY. 267 man to worship a supreme being. Religion, lying as it does in the sub-conscious mind of man, how can it manifest itself unless there is solitude during which it can lise up? But this spark of the Infinite, religion, which abides in the darkest chamber of the soul, is a peculiar thing. If it is continually-forced back by the authority of the conscious mind, it at length goes out forever, and man is left destitute of the greatest power of his existence. Such a state of affairs does not often come to pass, but it can happen. But how can one conceive of this infinite spark as perishing? It is merely a small part of the great Infinity, which may have a million finite parts lost, as it were by atrophy, and yet remain the same. If, on the other hand, the divine spark is allowed to rise into the conscious mind, it fires the imagination and intensifies every purpose of the man. In the light of this reasoning one can easily see that solitude is of vital importance to religion. Thus, as religion is considered in its true nature, it is seen that religion and solitude are supplementary to each other. Re-ligions have sprung forth in solitude and have been kept alive through its influence. To those accepting the superficial view of religion, many ot the inner workings are inexplicable. For example, they cannot account for the fact that many a man turns to religion on a sick bed, or when he is suddenly removed from the walks of men into the solitude of a wilderness. But those who appreciate its hidden meaning understand that such conduct is due to the divine element which has sprung up dur-ing the solitary hours. Such is the relation of these two terms made plain, which seem at the first glance to be so foreign to each other. 268 THE MERCURY. THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF A MILLIONAIRE. [Contributed for the Pen and Sword Ptize Essay contest.'] WHEN Columbus discovered this new world, he little knew that he was opening to the known world the greatest discovery of that or any other age. When three centur-ies later George Washington fought for the freedom of the colonies and, having succeeded in that, helped organize and guide the thirteen colonies on the road of progress, even he with his almost prophetic insight could not foresee what a won-derful future was in store for them. Now this lusty young giant stands with his feet firmly planted on the Isthmus of Panama, his bulk reaching from Ocean to Ocean, from Canada to the Gulf, a hand reached eastward in the Philippines, another extending into the frozen north, Alaska. Covered with farms and forests, factories and cities, honeycombed with mines, bound in the bonds of fraternal friendship by almost two hundred thousand miles of railroad, inhabited by a people the most pro-gressive and civilized of any living; is it any wonder that with all these advantages, natural and artificial, he has rapidly forged to the front in riches also. The natural advantages sur-pass those of all Europe. Now in the midst of this amazing national growth there has been a wonderful growth in private riches. When the country was young and poor the people were also poor. With the rapid settling of the West, the opening of coal and iron mines, the invention of the locomotive and the steamboat, the wealth of individuals rapidly increased. Yet up until the Civil War huge private fortunes might be counted on the fingers of one hand. But after the Civil War begins the period of inventive and industrial advancement, the age of the millionaire. Now a millionaire is a man who by inheritance, in-dustry and economy or by other means too numerous to men-tion, has become possessed of a million dollars or its equivalent. He may have come by this sum honestly or dishonestly but it is the responsibility which comes with this sum of money of which we will take notice. iPIMMIfBm^MW THE MERCURY. 269 Let us take the millionaire from boyhood. He is probably no brighter, no different in outside appearance than the average run of boys, yet by saving a dollar where the other man spends two, by judicious investment where money will the most surely and rapidly increase, these by the time he has reached manhood have made him a comparatively wealthy man. Of course no matter what his morals, his ability to earn money has been held up as a model to other struggling youths, his past has been re-hearsed by the Oldest Inhabitant, boyhood chums are proud to call him by name, so by his example many are willing to jise or fall. Here his responsibility as a moral factor begins. All the while his fortune is increasing until some day when he "takes stock" he finds he is a millionaire. If he is not vastly different from the majority of us, he begins to get a little more exclusive and distant. His old acquaintances gradually fall away and he seeks new friendships among men of his own business standing. If he is selfmade there are no doubt a few rough corners to be smoothed down and polished up in order that he may not appear at a disadvantage among his fellows. This process is usually one of marriage. All this time he is looming larger and larger in the public eye and more and more do newspapers devote space to his goings and comings. Indeed he has no privacy, his every act is under the scrutiny of a lynx eyed public. Now let us glance at a few calamities for which the million-aires of this country may be justly held responsible. There was a time when ability was the measure of success. The time also was when thrift was considered a virtue. Once our poli-tics were pure and uncorrupted. Equality between men as spoken of in the Constitution was not a joke. Honesty in business was a maxim. Human life was regarded as precious not many decades since. Divorce was synonymous with dis-grace. In a word the American people have seen the day when virtue, not money, was the goal of every honest man's ambition. Now all this is changed. Why ? Who are respon-sible for the change? When men like Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Seward, Lincoln, , I : , 27o THE MERCURY. Douglass and others thundered in our legislative halls, there was no thought of their money. The taste of the people had not been debauched by a bribed press, which by skillfully ad-vertising the merits of their customer and belittling the ability of his opponent render it almost impossible for a poor man to secure high office. For example look at our Senate. No men of tremendous personality and ability sit in seats made famous by their predecessors. No orators arise and hold their hearers spellbound by the power of their oratory. No indeed. Instead there sit in our once glorious Senate a body of men whose money has been the open sesame to halls to which their brains would have been found an insurmountable barrier. This ignoble condition is laid at the doors of the millionaires. Again, what has changed a people from a race thrifty and economical, always striving (and usually succeeding) to live within their income, into a people rushing, with a frenzy that amounts to madness almost, in pursuit of the Almighty Dollar? Isn't it the extravagance of the rich from whom the people model their deportment? Million-dollar homes, yachts, autos, balls, operas and the like have such an irresistible attraction for the majority ot people that it is only a man of the most in-flexible will power who can live his life undisturbed by the glitter of much gold. So overwhelming is the desire to possess the fixtures enumerated above that men throw all virtues and vices aside, in order-to secure them. Robbery, embezzlement, fraud and even murder are the agents used in extreme cases. The ostentation of the millionaire is responsible for this. In the magazines of the past year there have been a number of articles pro and con as to whether we have an American Aristocracy. Our Constitution says all men are created free and equal and for almost one hundred years this doctrine was held sacred and we prospered. But with the coming of the millionaire all that was changed. Believing that because they owned more valuable real estate and more gilt-edged bonds than their poor neighbor, they were of superior clay, our mil-lionaires began to ape the degenerate though genteel aristo-cracy of Europe. And those who have occasion and oppor- THE MERCURY. 271 tunity to observe say that they have aped not too wisely but too well. Forgetting that a cad is not a gentleman, that cul-ture, education and brains, not money, give grace and elegance in speech and deportment, some of our would be Aristocrats pose and strut with an affectation of superiority that would be insufferable, were it not so ridiculous. So many owners of >much money gladly take the responsibility for opening the breach of class between man and man. Joseph Folk, swept into the Governor's Chair by a tidal wave ■of reform votes, reached his position by the conviction of bood-lers in the city of St. Louis. When Folk began his now famous •investigation, whom did he find were the bribers, lawbreakers and corruptors of public morality ? They were rich men, the ■financial backbone of St. Louis. It is the same everywhere. The wealthy, the millionaires, have bought outright whole ■city councils, legislatures, judges and have even carried their infamous designs into the nation's lawmakers themselves. In-deed the venal character of our judges have caused the poor to give up all hope of justice when combatted by a man of wealth. And in business men eminently respectable, men above re-proach, lend their names and influence to schemes which, if attempted by an ordinary gold-brick speculator or bunco steerer, would result in that worthy rusticating behind the bars of some penal institution. But because there are millions in it, it is considered high finance to unload Lake Superior, U. S. Ship-building, Amalgamated Copper and Bay State Gas, on a public dazzled by the prospect of sure dividends which never come; and rendered trustful by an eminently respectable directorate. Year by year the man of the monster death has been feeding thousands of victims through the negligence and greed of corpor-ations. This number has increased so rapidly that the President thought it worthy of mention in his last message to Congress. It was high time; men in mills have been burned, maimed, crushed, torn and mutilated; either because the price of their work was so low that they had to constantly work under the •shadow of violent death, or because the owner, squeezing every last cent, refused to place safeguards around death-traps. So : 272 THE MERCURY. long as a mill, railroad or factory pays dividends, what matters it how many poor wretches are ground to fragments, providing: their death does not entail any extra expense on the firm P This criminal disregard of human life does not confine itself to-a purely impersonal matter like a mill or factory. It takes a form of amusement when reckless men crazed with the mad-ness of much money hurl giant automobiles through crowded city streets, at express-train speed. The desire to make a dol-lar was never better illustrated than in the case of a Western) railroad which, by removing a switch-light to save the oilr caused a wreck which hurled scores of human beings into eter-nity. Last but not least, look at the responsibility which million-aires bear to the gravest danger which threatens us at the pres-ent day. We will consider divorce, because the divorce evil1 had its inception among the moneyed class in this country. The home is the bulwark of all lands and all peoples. Where the home is sacred there courage, fidelity and all kindred vir-tues flourish. There also are found the brightest ideals. Ir* this country in the last ten years there has been a flood of divorces so overwhelming that almost all churches have taken* steps to check the evil. On the most trifling charges the bondr which should bind men and women for life, has been rudely snapped asunder, and all over the land we see the distressing; sight of homes desolated and families scattered. Beyond any doubt the millionaires must be held accountable for this. In> New York the so called Four Hundred has more divorces to-the square inch than any similar body of people in this country. Since New York sets the fashions and the rest of the country sheepishly follows, this fashion soon became the reigning fad" in Smart (?) Sets. Other States anxious to keep in the proces-sion enacted lax divorce laws until South Dakota made six-months residence equivalent to divorce. This is the greatest responsibility which rests on the shoulders of our millionaires. Now for a summing up of the misdeeds for which our moneyed men must some day suffer. Overlooking the fact that in our belief no man is fit for heaven who selfishly spends- .MM _ . THE MERCURV. 273 forty thousand dollars a year on himself, what have millionaires individually and collectively done ? They have corrupted our politics, made bare money the criterion of success, destroyed the desire for thrift and economy by lavish expenditure, en-couraged dishonesty directly and indirectly, made a joke of equality between man and man, have made divorce so common that it excites almost no comment, have encouraged race sui-cide and have by gifts of money, dishonestly earned, pauperized ■a portion of our people. They have lowered the ideals which made this republic possible. In a word, if the people have not degenerated under the paralyzing influence of huge fortunes, it is because the heart of the people beats time, in spite of all inducements to the contrary. If they have degenerated it is because of the examples cited above. And weighing all these facts, taking into consideration the good done by much money, we are led to believe, half unwillingly, that it would have been better to have held fast to the conservative principles which ruled in the days of our grand-fathers. A more contented, happy people we should certainly be in place of a nation of vulgar money-grabbers. We would not, of course, have been a world power, with a navy to sweep the seas; but we would have been more respected and feared than we are now. And last and most important, we would have been consistent to the high ideals of which we gave promise in our National Youth. But it is done, our course is changed, time alone can tell what the future has in store for us. As a body our millionaires have much to answer for. Yet setting our faces to the right, let us all in a simple, unassuming way do what destiny has marked for us and all will yet be well with the grandest republic on «arth. ■■■■■■Hi THE MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class Matter VOL. XIII GETTYSBURG, PA., FEBRUARY, 1905 No. 8 Editor-in-chief C. EDWIN BUTLER, '05 Exchange Editor CHARLES GAUGER, '05 Business Manager A. L. DILLENBECK, '05 Asst. Business Manager JOHN M. VAN DOREN, '06 Associate Editors H. C. BRILLHART, '06 ALBERT BILLHEIMER, '06 H. BRUA CAMPBELL, '06 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, LITT.D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D.D. Published each month, from October to June inclusive, by the joint literary societies of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. Subscription price, one dollar a year in advance; single copies 15 cents. Notice to discontinue sending the MERCURY to any address must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Busi-ness Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. How swiftly the months pass ! One after another in endless succession they come and go, yea even with this issue the MERCURY adds another year to its history and closes forever the pages of another volume. If it has been any improvement over its predecessor, if it records with any reasonable precision the literary attainments of the student body, and if it is worthy of preservation in the archives of the College, then our labor has not been bought without a price and the high mark, to which we have been endeavoring to approach, has not been entirely missed. As the last line and the last word is written and the time for our departure is come, we go, but not until our faithful contri-butors, our patrons and loyal friends, than which there are none more loyal, are assured of our sincere gratitude and apprecia-tion. THE MERCURY. I 275 Without you our existence would have been impossible, with you the most happy relation has been enjoyed. If we have merited commendation the glory is to you, if censure, we are the chief offenders, and by the much importunity we invite all criticism to be placed to our credit. We bequeath not un-willingly to the associate and assistant staff a very generous portion of this rich legacy—if it may not improperly be so termed. That the termination of the close relation as a staff and as friends of the staff has inevitably come we regret but at the same time remember the sweet incense which the memory of the past year will send so often floating through our minds. This alone is reward enough and for our efforts a princely re-compense. Not even the trained minds of philosophers would be able to divine the origination of the .mysterious ideas and current rumors which are frequently promulgated without authority or xredence. For the benefit of those who may not know it, we announce that a few philosophic prodigies have been secured and are really matriculated with the student body, though the MERCURY has been unfortunate enough not to have had the honor to publish any of their esoteric cogitations, and even they would not perhaps venture a solution. The hypothesis nevertheless is agitated and really believed by some that the MERCURY will cease to be the organ of the College Literary Societies ; will cease to be a medium for the publication of the Literature of merit in the College; will cease to print the different prize essays and preserve them for future reference; in fine will cease to exist after this issue. We have said, just where such incongruous fancies first originated seems to be somewhat of a mystery. The claims are unfounded from the start but from some inexplicable cause they have seized many of the students. As our college publica-tions, unfortunately, are wholly student papers their existence of course depends on the pleasure of said body. The position we presume to maintain with regard to the continuance, dis-continuance or uniting with our weekly we will not define here 276 THE MERCURY. for obvious reasons. The decision of such a grave problem should receive the careful, thoughtful and deliberate attention of the members of our literary societies. In any event the staff deems it advisible to lay down here the present status of affairs for the benefit of those who are in-tensely interested and not now of the student body. Financially the Journal is by no means embarrassed. If there be an en-cumbrance at all, it will be insignificant. Generally a surplus over and above current expenses has been handed down from manager to manager, if this indicates anything. Relerring to the numbers of the magazine now on file, this volume is not believed to be inferior to its antecedents, yet we are not pre-sumptuous enough to flatter ourselves with its superiority. Who have "fought and bled" for it in the years past have writ-ten us very encouraging letters which have been voluntary contributions on their part. Generally speaking, we do know the students of the College have not supported the magazine by liberal literary contribu-tions but we believe since many other interests which formerly slumbered are now throbbing with life and activity, the MER-CURY will also within a comparatively short time receive its due apportionment of interest and enthusiasm. EXCHANGES. With this issue of THE MERCURY the "Ex-man's" qurll will be handed down to his successor. 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Issue 50.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1991. ; Review for Religious Volume 50 Number 2 March/April 1991 Beyond the Liberal Model Exiting from Religious Life Thoughts about Science and Prayer The Death of Dearly Loved~Friends 50/~INIVERSARY VOLUME REVIEW FOR RELIGIOIJS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVIEW I:Oa REI.IGIOUS; |~.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs: two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 REVIEW FOR REt,mloUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Edito'rs Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. March/Api'il 1991 Volume 50 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to RF:\'mw FOR RF:LtGtOt~S; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" shnuld be addressed Io Elizabeth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues should be ordered from REVtEW ~'o~ REt.mto~Js; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of Print" issues are available from University Microfilms International: 300 N. Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to: Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. When we Christians refer to the centrality of the paschal mystery, we mean that Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection somehow remain the necessary pattern for our human living in relation to God. In the gospels, Jesus often uses nature images or parables of human activity to point us towards the pattern of his dying and rising--a pat-tern in which we all who are his followers profess to share. Today it seems that we easily turn to the seed dying to bring forth life or to the metamorphosis of caterpillar to butterfly to gain insight into our way of human growth or maturity. Yet we find it hard to go from the dark beauty of nature imagery to the stark reality of Christ on a cross. So, too, the contemporary patterns of various psychological growth models can be-come so enlightening for our understanding of human development that they seem to transfix our gaze. We may stop short of viewing our mod-els through the stronger lens of a Christian optic. We should not be ungrateful that we can make use today of helpful imagery from nature and models from psychology in order that we may better understand and respond to a particularly confusing time in our world and in our Church, in religious life and in priesthood, in the fam-ily and in the parish. But the pattern of Christ--with his presence en-abling us to enter once again into his paschal mystery--remains central to our Christian focus on life issues. Rather than being confronted with a transition darkness relieved only by images and metaphors, we as Chris-tians believe that we are always being summoned into the mystery of God's transforming action breaking into the vagaries of our natural and human worlds. We struggle neither as victims nor as "Rambo" fight-ers. Instead, we are invited once again to ally ourselves with the Lord in bringing about God's reign more fully into our own lives and into the world we affect. Because our God is a God always actively working with our created world, we live and pray and work in a loving relationship with God--always developing and being purified, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. The elements of passion, death, and resurrection are touched upon in various ways by various articles in this issue. Our first article, "A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years," by Roland Faley, T.O.R., is a unique tribute to the former Jesuit superior general Pedro Arrupe, who died on February 5, 1991. Arrupe provided leadership and gave hope to 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 many religious congregations through much of the paschal-mystery times for religious life following upon Vatican II; he himself suffered his own paschal mystery through a debilitating stroke in 1981, then through the difficult time when a papal delegate was imposed upon the Jesuits, and finally through his lingering half-life over.the past seven years since his resignation as general. In the darkness of religious-life renewal, an image of reweaving has captured the imagination of many. From her perspective of working with many religious groups in renewal efforts, Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., in "Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis?" assesses some of the strands of reweaving efforts and makes her own effort to suggest ways towards deeper faith realities that remain unrealized at present. Grappling with the reality of the paschal mystery in the hard deci-sions about existence facing some religious congregations is the subject of the article by.Marie Beha, O.S.C. Eileen O'Hea, C.S.J., considers the dying process of the individual who considers leaving a religious com-munity and the needed response of the community. Renee Yann, R.S.M., reflects on the power of community in the special moment of the death of dearly loved friends. Three articles on pray,.: may shed some light as we move through some dark passages in our ever developing love-life with God. Benedict Auer, O.S.B., expands the Benedictine lectio approach with some in-sights into the use of videos. Edgar Bourque, A.A., inculturates an Augustinian way of praying into our American context. Some refresh-ing ways of understanding prayer are presented through the medium of science by Dennis Sardella. Helpful and comprehensive describe the treatment of vocation min-istry by Jeanne Schweickert, S.S.S.F., in her "Co-creators of History: United States Vocation Ministry." The same words apply equally well to the article by Kenneth Davis, O.F.M.Conv., "U.S. Hispanic Catho-lics: Trends and Recent Works." May the Lenten and Easter season~ guide us all further into the pas-chal mystery which focuses our life with the Lord. David L. Fleming, S.J. A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years Roland J. Faley, T.O.R. Father Roland J. Faley lived in Rome as vicar general of the Third Order Regular of St. Francis, i 971 - 1977, and superior general 1977- i 983. In December 1990 he completed his term as executive director of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM). His mailing address is St. Thomas More Friary; 650 Jackson St., N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017. The time was the early seventies. Rome was still caught up in a spirit of postconciliar excitement. Pope Paul VI's inherent caution in the face of the untried was tempered by an unfettered spirit in the air which wanted to let things happen. The present writer was returning to Rome after an absence of more than a decade, having been elected to the general gov-ernment of his Franciscan Order. I had been a student in Rome at the time of John XXIII's election. Those had been heady days of great prom-ise, at that time more a hope than anything else. It was only after the council, years later, that the real struggle of aggiornamento could be felt. Pedro Arrupe was the general of the Jesuits. Vibrant and spirited are adjectives that hardly do him justice. He was also president of the Un-ion of Superiors General (USG), the organization made up of the heads of men's religious institutes in the Church: It was a job for which Ar-rupe was ideally suited although one always wondered how he found the time. It was often said that the first time he was elected to the office by his peers, it was because he was general of the Jesuits. His subsequent reelections (and there were at least four) were because he was Pedro Ar-rupe. The story says a great deal about the man, quite apart from his of-fice. It was not long after I became active in the USG that Arrupe asked me to serve on the Justice and Peace Commission and later named me 163 164 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to be the press officer for the Union. It was in the latter capacity espe-cially that I came to know Arrupe the man. The Justice Agenda Arrupe steered the Society of Jesus through a very difficult period in its history. The thirty-first and thirty-second general congregations had set the concerns of the world's neediest at the center of the Society's mis-sion. A strong emphasis on social justice permeates the documents of these general congregations. The passage from documents to im-plementation was marked by an inevitable reaction, not all of it positive, within the Society itself. Arrupe was undaunted. The new direction reso-nated with his whole life as a missionary. The evil of the arms race was eminently clear to one who had survived the first use of the atomic bomb in Japan, 1945. For Arrupe this postconciliar direction of his institute was not a ques-tion of personal choice. It had been mandated by the Society's highest authority, a general congregation; for the general of the institute, im-plementation was simply not an option. In that spirit of obedience, he charted a new course which made strong demands on the whole Society of Jesus. On the level of general government alone it required personnel and resources not easily commandeered. He never wavered in the pur-suit of a course that for him bore the faces of countless deprived and suf-fering people. In responding to any issue, Arrupe's enthusiasm was infectious. He was the idea man, the animator, willing to leave details and implemen-tation to others. At times he seemed unrealistic, but he never left one un-inspired. The great picture was always there. An unforgettable moment occurred during the refugee crisis of the late seventies. The movement of peoples was felt in many parts of the world, with Rome affected by a large influx of people from Ethiopia. A visit to Arrupe from Robert McNamara, then president of the World Bank, proved to be a real catalyst in moving the refugee project forward. An urgent response was called for by the sheer volume of people arriv-ing in Rome after the revolution in Ethiopia. The greatest need was for housing and food. The Jesuits opened their own refugee office to address the problem internationally and in Rome. At the same time Arrupe gal-vanized the forces of men and women general superiors. Through the built-in network of the two Unions of Superiors General, housing was found for the Ethiopians throughout the city, especially in the genera-lates themselves. A hot meal was served each evening to hundreds of per-sons in the basement of the GesO, the main Jesuit church in the heart The Arrupe Years of the city. It was always interesting to meet religious leaders of interna-tional congregations ladling soup or serving pasta at the refugee center. Arrupe took an active interest in the work of the USG's Justice and Peace Commission. He urged its members to respond to known viola-tions of human rights anywhere on the world scene, to become involved in the Year of the Woman (1976), and to sensitize members of religious institutes on the role of justice in religious life, especially in the wake of the 1971 Synod of Bishops. His leadership in social justice was firm and steady, but never abrasive or confrontational. He had, for example, an unusual sensitivity for diplomatic concerns and was a strong believer in the power of persuasion. But his commitment to the thesis of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel message was total. This was jus-tice in the service of faith, an idea integral to Arrupe's thinking. There was no divorcing faith and justice; it was, moreover, a justice rooted in love. For Arrupe, it was unthinkable to speak of a struggle for justice apart from a belief in that justice for all people willed by God himself. Christian Unity Ecumenism was still a fledgling enterprise on the Roman scene when Arrupe moved the USG toward a better understanding of men and women religious of the other churches. In the early seventies, Michael Fisher, provincial of the Anglican Franciscans from England, and Ar-rupe decided to initiate a permanent consultation on religio,us life among religious of the Catholic, Reformed, and Anglican communions. The con-sultation continues to meet on a biannual, basis and is now in its second decade of life. During those Roman years it became common to have non- Catholic religious present for the assemblies of the USG; on many lev-els, the participation was reciprocal. This was a new venture, largely un-tested, the success of which was by no means guaranteed. To a great ex-tent it was Arrupe's breadth of vision and the warmth of his personality that carried the day. There was an immediacy and directness about him that broke down resistance. In the ecumenical field, he was willing to leave the doctrinal differences to others; it was the faith that was shared which excited him. In the area of religious life, the understanding of the vows, community, and prayer differed little from one denomination to the other. I remember vividly the bonding that quickly developed among the participants of those early years. When discussion centered on the nu-merical difference in the size of the communities, it was often very amus-ing. It was fascinating to see Arrupe, whose religious institute numbered close to 35,000, engaged in intense conversation with an Anglican su- 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 perior of some forty religious. Numbers mattered little; it was the mean-ing of the life that counted. Conversation with the World Vatican II's Church in the Modern World fit perfectly with Arrupe's sense of church. While not unmindful of the dangers present in the meet-ing between faith and culture, he remained a strong proponent of incul-turation. A spirit of withdrawal or disengagement from the world, or even worse, a siege mentality, was alien to Arrupe. Nowhere was this more evident than in his dealing with the media. It was during these same Roman years that Donald Campion, S.J., had been named the Jesuit gen-eralate's chief communications officer. Arrupe had long been keenly aware of the necessity for a high-level spokesman and worked to make it possible. Campion was privy to discussion and decision-making at all levels and, therefore, in the best position to deal effectively with the me-dia. Such openness was a quantum leap forward from the spirit of reti-cence, even fear, which was so much a part of religious officialdom. The latter was a spirit well symbolized by the small sliding window at the por-ter's office of the Jesuit generalate and countless other Roman headquar-ters. It was a far cry from an "open door" policy. As press officer for the USG, I enjoyed the same latitude. I was en-couraged to be present for all meetings, even when the most sensitive issues were being discussed. I was free to share the views and activities of the Union with both the secular and religious press. If discretion was called for, I was expected to exercise it, but the prevailing climate was one-of as much openness as possible. This was Arrupe's style, and it proved right more often than not. By the same token, he expected a sense of responsibility from a well-informed media. He was both angered and offended by unfounded specu-lation or an inordinate interest in the sensational or controversial. This was very evident at the time of the 32nd General Congregation, at which he presided. What seemed like a concerted effort to magnify conflicts between the Jesuits and the Vatican caused him no small measure of pain. And yet it never soured him or changed his basically positive out-look. For him the best way to deal with such a situation was through con-tinued efforts at supplying accurate and intelligible information. It was a Church in progress, moving through history, aided and abet-ted by the world around it, that fashioned Arrupe's thinking. If the mes-sage of the Church were to be heard, it would only be through outreach and dialogue. In the important position which he held, he lent the full weight of his office to obtain that goal. The Arrupe Years / 167 The Man of God It is hard to speak of a person's spirituality. In its intensely personal character it remains ultimately untouchable. And yet it becomes trans-parent in a person's life. In having a certain closeness to Arrupe and lis-tening to the views of others who were his peers, I noted certain quali-ties that mirrored a remarkable spirituality. He comes to mind im-mediately as a man of hope and faith-filled action. It is small wonder that he had such close personal ties with Cardinal Edward Pironio, the Argentinian head of the Vatican Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. There were any number of reasons why relations between the Jesuits and the Vatican department responsible for religious life might well have been strained at that time. But Pironio's sense of hope and his very open and warm personality matched Arrupe's. They became close personal friends. Hindsight has led many people to comment favorably on Rome in the seventies. Religious life was being fashioned by an interesting trio. There were the challenges to religious given by Paul VI, coupled with the positive leadership bf Pironio and Arrupe. It was an exciting decade; for some of us, unforgettable. Arrupe's spirituality was marked by a deep sense of history and tra-dition. He was part of a Church and a religious institute whose patrimony truly humbled him. The picture of Arrupe as a man wed only to the pre-sent and largely indifferent to the values of the past is caricature at best. He knew that new wine required new skins and articulated that vision well. But he linked that vision with a real sense of the importance of con-tinuity. Some examples come quickly to mind. He had a profound es-teem for the insights of his institute's founder, St. Ignatius Loyola. While some argued that many of those insights were time-bound and no longer valid, Arrupe would be the last to be convinced. He said repeatedly that the longer he lived the more he appreciated the spiritual genius of his foun-der. In those years there was considerable discussion about the need for greater democracy in religious life. The question of the appropriateness of electing superiors, rather than appointing them as was the custom in many religious congregations, was very much to the fore. Arrupe re-mained throughout a strong proponent of the appointment method, fixed so strongly in Jesuit tradition. He was never persuaded that democracy produces the best leadership, and many of those who belonged to orders or congregations of a more democratic bent could recognize a certain va-lidity in his position. 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 His understanding of the vow of obedience was not rigidly tradi-tional; his thinking had been enhanced by contemporary theological in-sight into the Gospel sense of the vow. And yet he was deeply imbued with appreciation for the ascetical value inherent in accepting the deci-sions of those placed in authority. A case in point. When Arrupe com-municated to Robert Drinan, S.J., the decision that the latter would have to relinquish his seatin the U.S. House of Representatives, it was a very difficult moment in the life of both men. But it made a lasting impres-sion on Arrupe. The priority that Drinan gave to his Jesuit calling in ac-cepting that decision was, in Arrupe's mind, as important for the Soci-ety and the Church as anything Drinan might have otherwise accom-plished. It was an example to which he would repeatedly return. In retrospect, however, one would have to say that it was the man's openness that remains so vivid to the present day. He was never threat-ened by new ideas, even if he found them ultimately unacceptable. He could see the value in some elements of a Marxist social analysis, even though he was against its use. He could espouse~the Jesuits' new social ministries and still be a strong believer in the traditional ministry of edu-cation. He was a champion of legitimate pluralism, almost by instinct. While mindful of the importance of magisterial teaching, he wanted theo-logians to have as much freedom as possible in the pursuit of their task. It was his deep-rooted faith that lent him serenity in facing [he contem-porary scene. Not intimidated by the risk of possible failure, he realized that all was ultimately in God's hands. And then there were the trials, known best by those who worked with him closely. A number of those he shared with me. In his later years, the media was asking hard questions. Was Arrupe going to resign? Was he under pressure from the Vatican to do so? Was a dissatisfied segment of the Jesuits pressing for his resignation? Was his relationship with Paul VI as strained as rumored? Were there conflicts with John Paul II? Arrupe was always candid. He respected the media and realized that there was much to be gained through cooperation. But he was disturbed by attempts to exacerbate situations and exaggerate differences. There were certainly very difficult issues which he faced in the latter years of his term of office. He was fully aware that there was a conservative seg-ment of the Society which opposed him. In addition, during the thirty-second General Congregation, his was the task of interpreting the mind of that worldwide assembly to the pope, and vice versa. It was a sensi-tive and often painful task. That he did it so well is a tribute to his con-ciliatory gifts. But he was beset by rumors, which, like a room full of The Arrupe Years / 169 gnats, gave him no peace. That there were differences between the gen-eral congregation and the pope in certain areas, he never denied. Yet his personal relationship with Paul VI was never the question. He was sym-pathetic to the concerns of the pope and realized the weight of his cross. Moreover, he hailed the pope's social teaching as a landmark in the Church's life. But the perception of a wall of conflict between the "black" and "white" pope persisted, even though it was inaccurate. Arrupe was the first to admit that the sentiment among the Jesuits for the direction .taken after the thirty-second Congregation was not unani-mous. He was acutely aware of a vocal conservative opposition. But he saw the implementation of the general congregation's decisions as an obe-dience and there was no turning back. He always stressed the strong sup-port that came from so many quarters, the enthusiasm which the con-gregation's decisions had generated, especially among the young, and the fact that the Holy See had given its approval. But the fact is that the positive is just not that newsworthy, and so he would be inevitably ques-tioned about the "dark side" of any given situation. This always caused a certain measure of dismay, but it was followed by a remarkable resil-ience. In the wake of any setback, there was always his eventual phone call with a new idea or project. Early in the summer of 1981, Arrupe, his trusted vicar and confi-dant Vincent O'Keefe, and I talked at length about a possible article on the burning question of Arrupe's resignation. There was extensive specu-lation in the press, and we were discussing the best way to deal with it. However, it was more than a public question; it was a matter internal to the Jesuits at a time in which any public communication would have been inappropriate. Arrupe looked upon his eventual resignation in a very posi-tive light, as setting an important precedent for the future of the Soci-ety. His thinking was centered on the good of the religious institute to which his own interests were completely subservient. We decided to do nothing at that time. But that evening he assured me that once he was no longer in office and had the freedom to speak more openly, he would do an extensive interview with me and answer the questions that I felt should be addressed. That proved to be our last conversation. Upon his return from a trip to the Philippines some weeks later, he suffered the stroke from which he never recovered. The rest is history. I subsequently left Rome upon completion of my term of office. My occasional return visits were always marked by a brief visit with the man who had affected my life so deeply. Few words were exchanged. It was 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 usually a prayer and a blessing; he would then kiss my hand before I left. His sufferings proved to be one of the most powerful messages of his life. As one of his confreres put it: "He led us in life and has offered himself for us in death." His immolation was total. It has been an un-usual life. To have been touched by it is a rare gift. Father Pedro Arrupe was superior general of the Jesuits, 1965-198J~. He died on Tuesday, February 5, 1991, in Rome. Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis? Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Sister Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., J.C.D,, Canonical Counsel Editor of REVIEW FOR RELIGtOUS and author of Religious in the 1983 Code, writes and consults extensively about consecrated life. She is a canonical consultant and tribunal judge for the Arch-diocese of Washington, where she may be contacted at P.O. Box 29260; Washing-ton, D.C. 20017. For background information on this article, see endnote i. ]t is no secret that active religious life for women in America has experi-enced progressive decline in the quarter century since Vatican II. Evi-dence of the decline is clear and overwhelming, and its effects are felt and observed in the entire Church. When one looks for causes, one real-izes that distinguishing them from the effects is both complicated and deli-cate. Nevertheless, from my experience as a woman religious during the last quarter century and as a canonical consultant for numerous women's communities over the last decade, I have come to the conclusion that many religious have not recognized or have not acknowledged some clear causes and effects of the current decline for what they really are. Effects of progressive decline are there to be seen in the current po-larization within and among women's communities along conservative and liberal ideological lines. The decline is also evident in most com-munities in their relative inability to attract or to keep vocations, as well as in their related inability to maintain significant institutional commit-ments. It is manifest in the near invisibility of women religious in con-temporary apostolic works, as well as in the frequent reluctance of clergy and laity alike to work with women religious in various apostolates. Pro-gressive decline is experienced by religious themselves as the uninten-tionally created and uncomfortably experienced loss of identity follow- 171 Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ing early and rapid postconciliar abandonment of traditional symbols and services, customs and norms. And, to those who are not religious, its ef-fects are all-too-obvious in the polarized, apparently directionless, plu-ralistic potpourri of ministries and attire, lifestyles and mindsets among women religious today. The progressive decline stems in part from the pervasive sociology of liberal individualism in America and in part from the cultural preva-lence of a psychology of selfism. But causes of the decline are also evi-dent in the predominantly social-justice agenda that has been adopted by most women's institutes, as well as in the revisionist versions of vowed life and in the generally antiauthority and often feminist stances currently espoused by not a few active women religious. Again, a major cause of decline can be traced to the reality that, in seeking their roots after the council, many women's institutes dating their foundations to frontier America discovered--but probably did not admit--that they actually had no genuine, unique charism to renew and adapt. The decline can also be traced to the systematic and progressive de-construction or deliberate abandonment of fundamental juridic structures and roles during the postconciliar constitutional revision processes. In most women's institutes, general chapters have now abandoned legisla-tion in favor of direction-setting, with their goals programmed by pre-chapter steering committees and subsequently adopted through member-ship participation in consensus formation that is shaped by outside facil-itators. In most women's institutes, lower-level superiors are now either nonexistent or nonfunctional, while major superiors have abandoned gov-ernment in favor of business management and have surrounded them-selves with middle-level, appointed, administrative personnel whose num-bers have steadily increased over the years in bureaucratic disproportion to the continuing decrease in membership. Functionally, the net effect of juridic deconstruction has been the crea-tion of business-management-style bureaucracies which filter informa-tion upward and decisions downward, from and to members of women's institutes, primarily by means of bulletins, newsletters, special-interest mailings, and occasional phone calls or visits. As a result individual re-ligious deal almost exclusively with middle-level personnel over a long period of time and even in personal and sensitive matters. Many would prefer to describe this reality quite differently by saying that communi-cation (not mere information) is facilitated inward and outward (not up and down) between the empowered membership and the visionary lead-ership in the concentric circles of participative government that have re- Beyond the Liberal Model / 173 placed the hierarchic pyramid of authority. Whatever the terminology, the following experiences are common: (1) Individual members or groups of members can seldom effect change in policies and agendas that are programmed and prepackaged at upper (or inner) levels of the struc-ture; (2) religious are both structurally and functionally more removed from their elected, responsible superiors than previously; and (3) the right of individual religious to personal privacy is, at times, not ade-quately protected. Most women religious would admit that, in the quarter century since Vatican II, the rather short-lived euphoria of the "nun in the world" has been replaced by a long-suffering, quiet frustration at the lurking possi-bility of permanent extinction. While increased relevancy and effective-ness were focal points for altering lifestyles and practices during renewal, many wonder now if women religious in America have ever been more irrelevant and less effective. To be frank, most clergy and laity and male religious have been thinking for quite some time that religious life for women in America is "going nowhere fast," even if few have verbal-ized this publicly. More recently, at least some--if not many--women religious have cautiously begun to acknowledge the same apparent real-ity to themselves and others. A haunting, unresolved question about the entire experience of re-newal is: How did all this ever happen to us? In seeking answers, con-servatives seem tempted to respond: "Surely an enemy has done it!" In kind, liberals seem inclined to say: "I am making all things new!" From the perspective of experience, my response to the question looks to what might be a deeper problem, namely: "All this did not just happen, We did it to ourselves." Indeed, I would suggest that, on the part of women religious, major factors contributing to the current decline have been a certain lack of knowledge of both theology and history, as well as a cer-tain lack of maturity in responding to newly discovered postconciliar re-alities. And, from current experience, I would suggest that an apparent lack of humility in admitting previous mistakes and an apparent lack of honesty regarding present reality or future prospects are probably has-tening the permanent demise of many active institutes of women reli-gious in this country. Lack of Vocations An obvious sign of the progressive decline of women's institutes is the staggering decrease in their membership since Vatican II. In 1965 there were slightly more than 180,000 members in active communities in America, but by 1990 that number had fallen to slightly more than 174 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 100,000-~a decrease of nearly 45%. Simultaneously, since few women have entered while many have been departing at a slow but steady pace, the median age in women's institutes has risen rapidly and is now com-monly sixty-five or higher. Marie Augusta Neal, in her recent book From Nuns to Sisters, sug-gests that the "radical risks" involved in the Church's new mission to the poor may be the prime factor limiting the response of women to a call to religious life. She thus inadvertently trivializes that call--which, on practical and theoretical as well as human and theological levels, has its appeal within risk or without any particular concern about risk. Neal does not seem to recognize that there is---~r ought to be--a substantive difference between a vocation and a career. And, if experience tells us anything in the matter, it tells us that--with rare exception--the single, most compelling human reason why anyone responds positively to a re-ligious vocation is her (or his) direct, personal awareness of religious who are happy together doing something that they perceive as worth-while and who are clearly motivated by and committed to the love of Je-sus Christ. Currently, many not-yet-retired women religious have become increas-ingly absent or invisible in apostolic activities of the local Church. In other words, for the most part they simply are no longer seen. Moreover, many no longer live in community, even when they live in geographic proximity, sometimes even when they exercise the same ministry or work in the same place. In other words, they are no longer seen together except possibly at work. Again, perhaps too few women religious are to-day perceived as being genuinely happy, and perhaps even fewer as be-ing happy together. Further, the current wide diversification of minis-tries seems sometimes to have led to trivial apostolates ~hile simultane-ously rendering institutional apostolic, witness unsustainable. And, though many may reject the suggestion, perhaps love of Jesus Christ is simply not perceived as the underlying or determining factor in the life of many women religious in America. In short, perhaps because the posi-tive image that women religious tend to have of themselves bears little resemblance to the not-so-positive image that others have of them, it may be unrealistic--if not grandiose--to expect vocations to increase in the near or distant future. Pluralism and Polarization An initial cause and increasing consequence of decline in religious life for women is the currently a~knowledged division into conservative and liberal categories both within and among most congregations. Beyond the Liberal Model / 175 In general, conservative-model institutes tend to favor external authorities, institutional endeavors, traditional theologies, and hierarchi-cal structures; liberal-model institutes generally favor inner freedom, in-dividual endeavors, postconciliar theologies, and collaborative struc-tures. Liberal institutes are inclined to accuse conservative ones of at-tracting emotionally immature candidates, while conservative institutes are inclined to accuse liberals of having nothing that attracts. Conservative religious are often summarily categorized as oppressed, unrenewed, and psychologically dependent; liberal religious are just as often summarily categorized as progressive, feminist, and pseudosophis-ticated. Conservatives seem to read history and Scripture in so selective and so polemical a fashion as to render them an inadequate basis for or-dinary discourse. Conversely, liberals seem to read history and Scripture in so simplistic and so revisionist a fashion as to render them insignifi-cant. From my experience, liberals and conservatives alike seem to have worked very diligently at destroying whatever common symbols they had, so that now they possess no common language for constructive com-munication. Each side seems to have been mutually successful in trans-forming both the concept of God and the experience of worship into sources of division. And neither side seems able to lay untainted claim to any "moral high ground," any bridgehead that addresses the ever wid-ening chasm between them. Currently the majority of women's institutes in America express or espouse a liberal model of religious life. However, it is becoming more and more evident that many religious themselves do not ascribe to the tenets or direction of that model, while many religious also have at least some (and sometimes serious) concerns about its functioning and future. As conservatives attempt to build a future by returning to the past and liberals attempt to build a future by rejecting the past, the categories are becoming increasingly distant and distinct. Most religious realize that any previous potential "middle ground" is fast disappearing, thus leav-ing little hope for future cooperation or reconciliation in or among insti-tutes. Mary Jo Leddy in her recent book, Reweaving Religious Life, ac-knowledges that the current liberal model of religious life is not adequate for facilitating and sustaining genuine adaptation and renewal, even though she has previously been both a proponent and facilitator of that model. Leddy suggests that the liberal model of religious life has become "unraveled" and that it should be replaced by a choice for "creative 176 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 disintegration" in favor of even more radical pluralism. She suggests, further, that liberal-model institutes might take as an example of her "reweaving" thesis Teresa of Avila's reform of Carmelite monastic life in the sixteenth century. But Leddy seems not to recognize that her sug-gestion for the future is humanly problematic and that her analogy from the past is historically inaccurate. As regards "creative disintegration" for a more radical pluralism, the current experience of most American women religious is that the de-gree of pluralism already present in their institutes is straining the limits of not just the weave but also the inner fiber of religious life itself, indi-vidually and collectively. In short, Leddy seems unaware that going be-yond present degrees of pluralism in ministries and lifestyles will most likely be more destructive than creative, both in the beginning and in the end. Regarding Teresian reform of Carmelite life, I.eddy does not recog-nize that Teresa's version of "reweaving" was actually a return to ba-sic structures and religious observance from an "unraveling" that oc-curred precisely because fundamental elements of the original charism had been abandoned or abused. In short, she seems oblivious to this his-torical fact: that Teresa accomplished the genuine renewal of Carmelite religious life not through programmed disintegration but rather through a concerted effort by all to embrace its fundamental structures and heri-tage in order to live them and preserve them in a pristine manner. Deconstruction of Structures and Elimination of Distinctions The current deconstructed functioning of general chapters as parti-cipative consensus-formation assemblies in most women's institutes has engendered both a feeling of members' being "empowered" for gov-ernance and a strong sense of "ownership" of chapter decisions. On the other hand, the new style of general chapters also tends to lessen critical assessment of options and to avoid substantive decisions that distinguish delegates from participants. Simultaneously, such chapters commonly en-act global, carefully crafted, blandly diluted statements whose content can hardly be opposed in theory and can scarcely be assessed in implemen-tation. Currently some women's institutes have so little sense of their own identity and of the role of chapters that they involve nonmembers extensively in chapter proceedings, and some have even suggested that nonmembers may be elected to governance roles. The distinction between major superiors and councils, as well as dif-ferentiation of their roles, has also undergone postconciliar deconstruc-tion. With the advent of collaborative decision-making, major superiors Beyond the Liberal Model / 177 and councils are commonly referred to as leadership teams: their mem-bers share equally the governance/management of the religious institute and are functionally distinguished, if at all, only at the infrequent mo-ments of final decision.,required by law. In relation to actual decision-making, in most institutes there has been a concomitant radical limita-tion or complete elimination of instances in which a supreme moderator or major superior can act without the consent of the council. Most of these alterations seem related to questioning the possession of personal authority by superiors, combined with an all too real (and often all too painful) remembrance of abuse of authority by superiors in the past. The deconstruction of juridic structures and the blurring of gov-ernmental functions apparently meet a need to limit the authority of su-periors through "leadership" language and apparently also reinforce the new participative consensus-niodel chapters in a stance of visibly and ver-bally rejecting whatever has been perceived as hierarchic or patriarchal. Overall, however, the new bureaucratic, business-management model of governance operated by middle-level appointees and committees seems to have produced no overwhelmingly positive verifiable results other than the fact that many members feel very good about it. In other words, it does appear that most people like the feeling of having a part in run-ning the business even if business is not getting any better. Obedience and Mission Closely related to juridic deconstruction and elimination of distinc-tions are postconciliar views espousing dialogical obedience and justice-oriented missions. The seed for a dialogical understanding of obedience was firmly planted by the affirmations of Perfectae Caritatis 14 that superiors should foster an active and responsible obedience in addition to listen-ing to and promoting cooperation among the members of the institute. But after twenty-five years that seed has produced, in many religious in-stitutes of women, a strong undergrowth of resistance to any exercise of personal authority by any superiors. As a result, some prevalent revision-ist versions of vowed obedience consider it to be so personal and dialo-gical that it apparently can never involve a decision made by someone else which must be obeyed. In this framework, attributing final decision-making power to a superior is simply rejected as representing an archaic, unjust sacralization of hierarchic notions about authority, commitment, and obligations, all of which are now considered as negotiable. Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world were affirmed by the 1971 Synod of Bishops as "constitutive 171~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 dimension[s] of preaching the Gospel" and "of the Church's mission for redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppres-sive situation." And these affirmations quickly became a mandate for religious to work with new or renewed vigor in justice-and-peace endeav-ors throughout the world. However, many religious who recognize action on behalf of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel appear to have fallen into the er-ror of thinking that action on behalf of justice is also exhaustive of it. There is ample indication that some religious erroneously assess the Church's mission as only or primarily one of unbridled activity in the marketplaces of contemporary society. They frequently quote as a source the document Religious and Human Promotion, but one seldom hears any mention of the document on The Contemplative Dimension of Re-ligious Life. In addition, a selective reading of conciliar texts and post-conciliar documents seems to have created for some religious an urgent mandate for political action and systemic change to the exclusion or ne-glect of any other manner of transforming the world or of preaching the Gospel. In connection with contemporary views of authority and obedi-ence, the mandate for systemic change of oppressive structures seems to be directed increasingly to the internal structures of the Church and of one's own religious institute rather than to the wider world. The social-justice orientation in the revised constitutions of most in-stitutes is primarily the result of an ongoing series of sociological sur-veys initiated in 1965 by the Leadership Conference of Women Relig-ious to provide an information base for resources on renewal. The sur-veys were formulated, distributed, interpreted, and implemented by Marie Augusta Neal, who has written numerous articles and books in the last two decades in order to explain, expound, expand, and defend her work. In her writings Neal admits that the entire purpose of the research surveys had a social-justice orientation. She also acknowledges that con-troversy over the surveys contributed directly to splintering of the (then) Conference of Major Superiors of Women in the early 1970s. And she herself states that the pre- and post-Vatic~in II belief scale contained in the "Sisters' Survey" involving 139,000 women religious in the mid- 1960s "became the most controversial and most discriminating variable, which accounted for the pace and direction of changes in structures of the religious congregations involved in the study."2 Yet Neal has con-sistently defended the soundness of her survey instrument as well as the accuracy of her interpretations, and has increasingly extended her find- Beyond the Liberal Model / 17'9 ings beyond the realm of sociology. Critics of Neal's work point to survey questions formulated in quali-tative language, to information reported in questionable categories, and to Neal's apparently subjective interpretations expressed in her follow-up. memos as being especially problematic. The surveys engendered even more controversy as findings originally proposed as an information base on resources for renewal began to function instead as LCWR's single, central source for pursuing social-justice agendas, for questioning eccle-siastical authority, and for picking up the the pace of renewal. Indeed, the quarter-century survey project that coincided with the postconciliar constitutional revision in women's institutes may arguably be the single most significant factor that can account for the systematic and progres-sive deconstruction evident among so many institutes of women religious today. Abandonment of Common Symbols and Practices Regardless of whether one recognizes or acknowledges an underly-ing internal juridic deconstruction in religious institutes of women, the visible, gradual, and progressive alteration of attire for women religious since Vatican II cannot be denied. The transition in habits has been a pain-ful and emotionally charged issue and is a prime example of the whole-sale abandonment of symbols and symbol systems by women religious since the council. No one is at liberty to argue about whether or not the external identity symbol of the habit has been fundamentally abandoned by numerous women religious, and most agree that whatever has hap-pened is irreversible. Moreover, the "habit issue" represents a nexus of sociological, psychological, behavioral, historical, and theological fac-tors that relate directly to the progressive decline of religious life in Amer-ica. Transformation in the attire of women religious from outdated and unhealthy medieval costumes, to makeshift modified habits, to bought and borrowed secular clothes, to contemporary business suits with com-munity logos, to the stylish garb of modern professionals is reflected in and among women's institutes today. The visible choice of attire, though not completely indicative ofa conservative or liberal model as such, is a somewhat reliable sign of the institute's (and person's) location and di-rection on the spectrum of post-Vatican II transition. The attire worn by the major superior and council of an institute tends to indicate both whether attire choices are possible within the institute and what the most progressive of possible choices might be. These indications, along with when the attire choices became operative, rather accurately reflect 1~10 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 whether the institute operates primarily from a liberal or conservative model (or somewhere in between) and tend to show a transition towards the liberal model. Be that as it may, my reason for discussing the choice of attire is that it is never the only issue being addressed. The attire issue also places in sharp relief a functional distinction between institutes of men and of women. That is, for members of nonmonastic institutes of men, the habit--if they had one--was traditionally a significant form of clothing occasionally donned for community and liturgical exercises or for pro-fessional and pastoral services. In .contrast, for all institutes of women-- with rare exception--the habit was traditionally their primary identifi-cation symbol and was also often the only clothes they had to wear. Ad-ditionally, the habit issue highlights a significant difference in response to legal norms on the part of men and of women, namely: The 1917 code required that habits be worn by all members of all institutes at all times, both inside and outside the religious house; women consistently did what the law said, while men rather consistently did not. Thus, ~the almost vis-ceral reaction (of some) to the matter of the habit should not be surpris-ing. More fundamentally, however, numerous other unifying and mean-ingful symbols and practices disappeared along with the habit in religious institutes of women after Vatican II. Common meals and lodging, com-mon prayers and songs, common recreation and study, as well as com-mon moments of joy and suffering, were generally minimized, mildly disdained, or summarily abandoned in a veritable onslaught of Ameri-can, postconciliar, egalitarian, pluralistic individualism and activism. Some would suggest that in this process women religious have become less oppressed, more mature and free for service. Many others would sug-gest, in contrast, that the primary result of abandoning symbol systems and common practices has been a pervasive and overwhelming experi-ence of inner emptiness and outer loneliness made more acute by recog-nition that there simply is no longer any "common glue" to hold insti-tutes of women religious together at simple, fundamental, indispensable levels of human relationship. Transformations in Community Life and Ministry Additional consequences Of postconciliar deconstruction in women's institutes concern: (1) how members live together and relate to one an-other, or--in other words--the change in what was formerly referred to as common life or community; and (2) how members happen to arrive in a particular place doing a particular job, or--in other words--the Beyond the Liberal Model / 1~11 change in what was formerly referred to as receiving an assignment or being missioned. Without detailing here the canonical requirements for common life and its broad and strict interpretation, it was obviously common prac-tice in.the past for religious to live with other members of their commu-nity in the same residence with at least relatively equal access to food, clothing, shelter, and furnishings. Exceptions to common life were al-ways possible and sometimes actual but generally remained just that: ex-ceptions. Since the council, however, more religious now live "outside a house" of the institute for extended periods of time and for a variety of reasons, including apostolate, health, and study. Moreover, it is cur-rently common for a woman religious to live outside a house of her in-stitute either (1) because she cannot find a house in which she is collec-tively "accepted" by sisters already in the house according to their es-tablished expectations of community, or (2) because the sister herself can-not find a house in which she feels she can live comfortably and con-structively according to her already established expectations. Since Vatican II, members of religious institutes have been forced to deal regularly with high degrees of constant uncertainty, and simulta-neously they have had great demands for intense interpersonal relating placed on them. Religious institutes and individual women religious have devoted varying amounts of time, energy, and resources to bemoaning or extolling postconciliar relational developments and demands. And at present many institutes and their members are so caught up in personal relational issues and self-help programs as to convey the impression that, if only every sister would study her Myers-Briggs profile and identify the consequences of her Enneagram number and join the appropriate recov-ery or codependency program, then community life would irreversibly begin to get out of the present morass of personal malaise and interper-sonal dysfunctionality. Meanwhile, however, most members of liberal-model institutes no longer live in community, but merely relate to it functionally. It is usu-ally easier for major superiors to allow members to live outside a house of the institute than to deal constructively with problems in houses of the institute. Those members who continue to live in community seem, in most institutes, to have circumstantially or preferentially sorted them-selves into relatively permanent subgroups by age differentiation or work relations or ideological orientations or dyad/triad dependencies. And quite a few women religious depend regularly--and sometimes exten-sively--- on professional colleagues or family members for ongoing per- 1~12 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sonal support and meaningful human interaction rather than on their re-ligious community. Related to changes in community living is the alteration since Vati-can II of how most women religious arrive in a particular place doing a particular job. A process of "open placement" now predominates, which usually means that the religious works with the institute's person-nel director or board in following previously established community cri-teria for seeking apostolic involvement or other gainful employment. Fre-quently in this system contracts are negotiated between the sister and the employer and are then submitted to the personnel director or board for review and informal approval. Eventually, finalized arrangements are rati-fied by the competent major superior, and the sister is missioned or as-signed to her new apostolate or job with, if possible, some form of rit-ual solemnization of the process. Some provision for housing is neces-sarily connected to the missioning, but living in community is not usu-ally a priority among the criteria for seeking employment, and so excep-tions to common life proliferate. The Sociology of Liberal Individualism Recently Robert Bellah and several other sociologists published a re-vealing analysis of the phenomenon and failure of liberal individualism in America, entitled Habits of the Heart. Among other things, this analy-sis suggests that American culture reflects a radically liberal society of psychologically sophisticated but morally impoverished individuals who demonstrate a "narcissism of similarity" by associating in "lifestyle enclaves." These enclaves are composed of the like-minded who share comparable desires for leisure, recreation, and consumer goods and who, by their self-chosen values, have been freed from traditional ethnic and religious boundaries while simultaneously justifying their own prefer-ences. Further, Bellah and his colleagues suggest that, in American so-ciety, people's felt need for personal fulfillment---ever elusive--has re-sulted in their substituting short-term "therapeutic relationships" be-tween "self-actualized" individuals for the genuine, creative relation-ship of love. This, in turn, has resulted in replacing obligation and com-mitment with a new "virtue": open and honest communication in which everything at all times is considered negotiable except the individual's self-chosen objectified values. The study suggests, further, that American society lacks the identity which should have or could have emerged from the ordered freedom of practical rituals and moral structures which it has abandoned. Moreover, it seems unable to return to the "constitutive narrative" of its tradition, Beyond the Liberal Model because that would be perceived as opting for once-jettisoned oppressive structures. Consequently, the lonely, self-actualized, rugged individuals of the late, great American Empire--still not comprehending what it is that might assuage their longings--have taken collective refuge in a cor-porate bureaucracy of professional managers, therapists, and other ex-perts whose task it is to foster administrative centralization, to facilitate reciprocal tolerance, and to "empower" all citizens for institutional par-ticipation and creative innovation. The problem is, however, according to Bellah and his colleagues: It simply has not worked, and the seriously ill "social ecology" of American culture is very much in danger of per-manent demise. There are striking similarities between this sociological analysis of American culture and the current liberal model of active religious life for women. Tradition has been abandoned, and the past is perceived as op-pressive. Institutes have become business corporations, and governance has become collaborative administration. Structures have become parti-cipative, and superiors are now primarily managers. Formation person-nel and spiritual directors now function primarily as therapists. Facilita-tors are experts for achieving consensus formation, as well as catalysts for creative innovation. All members are becoming empowered for de-cision- making, although not many members claim responsibility for any particular decision. Obedience is increasingly negotiable, and personal fulfillment dominates most choices. Communities have become lifestyle enclaves composed of occasionally present, like-minded individuals. Eve-ryone is now somehow accountable, but few (if any) religious are called to accountability by anyone for anything. Communication is the cardi-nal virtue, and everyone is progressing towards greater self-actualization. The problem is, of course: It all simply does not work. American women religious today still seem not to have discovered what it is that might as-suage their longings, and the seriously ill social ecology of their lives is very much in danger of p~rmanent demise. The Psychology of Selfism Directly related to the sociological phenomena that seem to parallel the deconstruction of religious life is the psychological phenomenon that contemporary American culture, according to Bellah, is basically impov-erished by an insatiable preoccupation with self. In most cultures reli-gion is considered a primary source for character formation and for the development of social mores. However, in the psychology of selfism which seems to permeate American culture, the primary reality is the self that one's own unique choices have created. The isolated, self-created 1 ~14 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 individual then commits himself or herself to self-defined and self-defining decisions. In this ambiance, personality development and be-havior modification replace the character formation and the social mo-res that are ordinarily provided by traditional religion, because preex-isting principles for character or mores are perceived as either non-existent or unimportant. For selfism in America, the psychological myth of the intrinsically good Utopian self parallels and supports the social and political myths of the intrinsically perfect Utopian state, while the psychological ten-dency to self-indulgence both rationalizes and celebrates the consumer society. When the interior fiber for duty, patience, suffering, and self-sacrifice is absent or wanting in the individual, the psychology of selfism conveniently shifts a locus of responsibility for the vacuum or the defi-ciency to the failures and foibles of parents, siblings, associates, and cir-cumstances. Selfism also legitimizes and perpetuates the late-adolescent attitudes of routine rebellion, rejection of authority, and preoccupation with sex. In short, it appears to be a ready-made, perfect internal sup-port for the sociology of American liberal individualism. Obviously, in relation to religious life, the once-hidden issues of psy-chological development and emotional maturity have been a rather pub-lic part of the transition in institutes of women (and of men) since Vati-can II. It may be that women religious really were not emotionally well-prepared for so many drastic, rapid-fire changes in their lives and, fur-ther, that they have not handled them all that well in the long run. To be sure, the recent deluge of books, articles, programs, and apparent pana-ceas produced by religious and for religious on topics of maturity related to religious is overwhelming. Patently, the popularity of this genre among women religious is not indicative of merely occasional light read-ing for the already self-actualized and emotionally mature. Thus, it seems reasonable to suggest that American women religious might be suf-fering not only from the effects of American liberal individualism but also from some lack of maturity as a consequence of its underlying psy-chology of selfism. Absence of Charism Genuine charisms for consecrated lifeforms are windows on the Gos-pel that provide a vision So clear that founders and foundresses --and then their companions--seem compelled to "do likewise" and follow Jesus. Or, again, charisms might be described as good seeds growing in fertile ground in a particular time and place and having the capacity to Beyond the Liberal Model multiply and bear fruit and also to be transplanted successfully to other ages and other cultures. True charisms of religious life are founded on sound but supple structures, are surrounded by long-standing and forma-tive customs, are nourished by deep-rooted and healthy spirituality, are manifest in valuable and long-term ecclesial service, and are--most es-pecially-~ expressions of a meaningful and compelling way of following Jesus. Charisms are not constituted merely by being a particular-apos-tolic expression of a particular corporal or spiritual work of mercy, how-ever necessary and valuable such endeavors may be; nor can charisms be humanly built by "refounding" or personally manufactured by "reweaving." They are gifts received, embraced, and lived--with re-ceptive and responsive elements indispensable to their basic rea~].ty---or they are not true charisms at all. Unfortunately, when active institutes of women religious went in search of their roots in the mandated renewal subsequent to Vatican II, most were confronted with the absence of a genuine, unique charism. And most women's institutes apparently either could not or would not recognize that absence for what it really meant, namely: They actually had no sound structures, no formative customs, no deep-rooted spiritu-ality, no long-term ecclesial service, no meaningful and compelling way of life they could call their own. In short, they had no genuine spiritual patrimony or religious heritage to which they could return and from which they could move into the future. The absence of a genuine, unique charism in most women's:institutes explains in part why intercommunity living and common novitiates have been so readily initiated and so successful. One cannot imagine, for ex-ample, Jesuit men and Dominican men opting for total intercommunity living situations and sharing totally common novitiates as if there were no deep and visible, distinctly different elements in their charisms. Yet many women religious whose institutes claim unique charisms share com-munity living and novitiates on a regular basis and consider it a wonder-ful sign of progress in collaboration. Lack of charism in many :women's institutes also explains in part why they have been so readily eclectic in the process of spiritual renewal and why most supposedly pristine house-of- prayer movements have been so short-lived and superficial .3 Further, lack of charism explains in part why it has been so difficult for these in-stitutes to adapt and renew successfully in the postconciliar era. Indeed, the provinces of some men's institutes are actually more distinct in ex-pressions of their charism than are many independent institutes of women who attempted after the council to rewrite constitutions and fashion mis- 116 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sion statements unique to them on the basis of their supposedly unique charisms. Though the fault for lack of charism was not theirs, the consequences for these institutes have been nearly fatal. Most--but not all--active in-stitutes of women religious founded in, or transferred to, this country in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were either New World adapta-tions of ancient and medieval monastic communities, such as the Bene-dictines and the Dominicans, or groups of dedicated pioneer women re-sponding generously to the practical needs of an immigrant Church in frontier America. Some, such as the Ursulines and the Daughters of Char-ity, had never been allowed to embrace or live the authentic, original ex-pression of their charism, which is now recognized as the forerunner to the consecrated lifeform of secular institutes. All active women's insti-tutes in frontier America were forced by circumstance or mandate to adopt a semimonastic, conventual style of religious life whether or not this was appropriate to their current function or past experience. Struc-tures, as well as theology and spirituality and apostolate and customs, are integral to the authentic expression of a genuine, unique charism. Thus it is not surprising that progressive deconstruction in women's in-stitutes has been so rapid and so complete for those institutes which, when seeking their roots, found only a monastic heritage adapted to the structures of conventual religious life or found no heritage that ever re-ally fit into the structures of conventual religious life in the first place. Possibilities for the Future Suggestions have been made that, in order to survive, women reli-gious should respond more fully to the risks of opting for the poor, or expand their pluralistic polarization even further, or revitalize for the sake of mission, or manage systemic change more constructively, or com-bine judiciously with other institutes of similar heritage. But no degree of social-justice activity, no amount of pluralism, no programmed revitalization, no constructively managed change, and no combined mem-bership will supply for the absence of a charism, which simply cannot be summarily manufactured and without which no institute has any fu-ture. It is possible, however, that active institutes of women religious in America can consciously decide about their future in honest relationship to their past. Some may feel they have actually been successfully grafted into an ancient or medieval charism expressed in conventual form and may wish to continue that expression of religious life. Some may find Beyond the Liberal Model it more realistic to return to what was originally intended by the founder/ foundress even if that choice would place them today in a different ju-ridic category of consecrated lifeform, such as secular institutes. Others may find it more realistic for members to form totally different commu-nities in accord with the prevalent spectrum of conservative and tradi-tional ideologies among their membership. Still others may decide quite honestly that their time of existence and service in and through the Church is actually past and that their greatest present witness might be to go out of existence with dignity and grace. From my experience, those in positions of authority in many women's institutes either do not recognize or simply will not admit the above possibilities, just as they either do not recognize or will not admit that the present course of supposed renewal is toward eventual demise. And, from my experience, the members of most women's institutes either are unaware of what is actually happening or, being aware, sim-ply wish to stay the course because it appears or feels advantageous to them at the moment. In either case, the result is that members tend to choose for leadership only those persons who will perpetuate the status quo, which in turn continues the present direction of programmed decon-struction. Unfortunately, most women's institutes seem deaf to suggestions that current, supposedly great refounding trends are futile, not only because they are based primarily on product-oriented business-management mod-els, but also because there is--in most cases--actually nothing to re-found. Though most seem enthralled by distant visions of supposedly "new forms" of religious life, they seem not to see before their eyes the current practical drift of religious life in America to the practices and lifestyle of the already well-established category of secular institutes. Io fact, opting for secular-institute status might be a more honest way for some institutes to become what they were originally and are meant to be than is their present path of deconstruction under the ~uise of creating "new forms" of religious life. Finally, many women's institutes seem heartened by prospects of increased membership through mergers and un-ions as a recipe for survival. Although combining institutes may be a ju-dicious course of action in view of practical needs, those who look to this for survival should reread carefully the story of Gideon: There is no safety in numbers if you are not doing God's will in God's way; and if you are, numbers really do not matter very much at all. Although, from my experience, most active institutes of women re-ligious in America simply do not have the slightest idea where they are 1111~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 going or why, there are many members of many institutes who do want to go somewhere with meaning. While not wishing to return to the past, they also do not wish to abandon it, and they still hope for a future of renewed religious life somehow rooted in it. Unfortunately, current modes of participative consensus-model governance not only edit out such voices but also make it nearly impossible to know about or be in constructive contact with those who have similar desires. Perhaps, then, some hope for the future also can be found in more grassroots, intra- and inter-congregational communication by those who are both weary and wary of the present programmed deconstruction they experience. All that is really necessary for continuation in the present path of increased po-larization and progressive decline to the point of extinction is that enough women religious continue to say or do nothing about it. NOTES i The substantive content of this article is taken from a book chapter of the same ti-tle and is used with permission of the editors. See lus Sequitur Vitam: To Pier Huiz-ing in Recognition of a Life Dedicated to a Living Law in the Church, edited by James Provost and Knut Wall and scheduled for publicatiofl by Peeters of Leuven i.n February 1991. The book chapter is much longer, has a definitely canonical ori-entation, and contains numerous, lengthy, substantive footnotes. 2 See Marie Augusta Neal, From Nuns to Sisters: An Expanding Vocation (Mystic, Conn.:Twenty-Third'Publications, 1990), for her positions in general and pp. 126- 127, n. 9, for this quotation. More detailed comments on the survey are contained in the book chapter cited above, especially at footnotes 12 and 29-34. 3 See J.M.R. Tillard, "Vingt ans de grace?" in Vie Consacr~e 58 (1986): 323- 340. The S.P.E.A.K. Model: An Approach to Continuing Formation Mary Mortz, D.M.J. Sister Mary Mortz, D.M.J., serves as a provincial councilor for her province of the Daughters of Mary and Joseph. With her degree in rehabilitation and religious stud-ies, she teaches mentally and emotionally disturbed children. Her address is 419 East Lancaster Boulevard; Lancaster, California 93535. Continuing formation means that the work of God has begun, and we con-tinue to cooperate with his work in and through us. Many of our consti-tutions state that each of us as a perpetually professed religious is respon-sible for our own continuing formation, though we are accountable to com-munity leadership. We have workshop opportunities extended to us, but there still seems to be a void in terms of specific steps to take to know that we are really growing as much as the Lord is calling us to grow. Many articles written for us today in religious journals seem to re-flect a growing need for focus in this area of continuing formation. They address issues of the compulsions and codependency in our society and in our religious lives. These issues are influencing us spiritually, emo-tionally, relationally, physically, and in our ministry. Many of these ar-ticles conclude with the suggestion that the reader investigate the 12- step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. model begins where these articles conclude, Many religious men and women are finding the 12-step journey to be a power-ful resource. This model comes from reflecting upon the experiences which many have shared with me--priests, religious men and women, and lay persons. It is a summary of what we have found to be helpful for us. It is offered as a resource tool for anyone looking for more spe-cific help in this deepening journey of spirituality and ministry. 189 190 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Summary of the Model There are three parts which serve as the basis for the S.P.E.A.K. model. First, the 12 steps are used as concrete steps or tools for continu-ing growth. Second, it is holistic. It includes the aspects of our lives as people who are Spiritual, Physical, Emotional, Apostolic, and relational (Koinonia). Third, each person selects a formation companion. The reason for basing the model upon the 12 steps is that they have proved to be very effective for thousands of people as a tool for us to use to evaluate our level of trust in God, to examine our lives, to make changes when we see we need to do so, to maintain an abiding attitude of balance and prayer in our lives and in our ministry and relationships with others. As we look at these 12 steps taken as a group, it is very apparent that we are returning to all that has been best for us in our previous routines of the spiritual life: regular daily examen, confession and extraordinary confession, retreats, daily spiritual reading, prayer, community sharing of our growth with each other, and profound dedication to sharing the Good News with a troubled world. The reason for basing the model upon a holistic view is that it is very easy for us to allow one or two areas of life to receive our attention. The challenge of life is to live in such a wholesomely balanced way that we proclaim Jesus, his Spirit~-and his Father's love by being the wonder-fully created person we are called to be spiritually, physically, emotion-ally, relationally, and in our ministry. The reason for basing the model upon having a formation compan-ion is twofold. It is a privileged thing to have someone who loves us un-. conditionally, even when we let the other person really know us. This frees us to grow even more. Secondly, it helps us to become very, very honest with ourselves and with our God when we agree to share what is happening in our lives at a deep and personal level with at least one other human being. This facilitates an attitude of openness and honesty which is an essential prerequisite of continuing formation. The Twelve Steps It is important to remember that even though one of the areas of the S.P.E.A.K. model is the spiritual, all the areas of our life are permeated by the principles of the spiritual journey. We keep taking these steps over and over in all areas of life, and new insights become revealed to us. Per-haps it is no coincidence that there were 12 tribes, 12 apostles, and now the foundation of 12 steps! Sometimes it is said that a coincidence is a miracle when God chooses to be anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. Model / "191 Orginally there were six steps as part of a spiritual movement called the Oxford movement, but those using these steps in A.A. realized they needed a little more guidance and expanded them to 12. The basic sense of these 12 steps can be divided into three groups. In steps 1-3 we come to a profound sense of what it means to really trust God. In steps 4-11, we clean our house, and continue to keep it clean. In step 12 we work to practice these principles in all our affairs, all as-pects of our lives. It can be a temptation for us to approach the steps rationally, to ana-lyze why they work. This is not the issue for those using the S.P.E.A.K. model. The issue is to walk these steps personally, humbly with heart, gut, and head. An analogy might be that we can read inspirational arti-cles about exercise and walking until the cows come home, but if we do not put one foot in front of the other and go walking, we cannot go very far or get in very good shape. Step One. We admitted we were powerless over life's conditions, that our lives had become unmanageable. (In the A.A. literature, this step reads, "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol--that our lives had become unmanageable." This is the only step that is changed in the S.P.E.A.K. model.) Even though other steps may seem to be more threatening in the be-ginning, it seems that the hardest step for us to take is step one. This is also the first be-attitude (Beatitude). The journey begins when we can finally be at a point in our lives where we are ready to surrender, to let go, to realize that there is something in our lives over which we have no control. Then we are ready to let God in to take over, to begin again in a new and deeper way this thing called his continuing formation. Our "something," our life condition, may be other people who are in our lives, some part of work, our relationships, our predominant com-pulsions, our health, our behavior, our self-perceptions, our resentments, fears, anxiety, our sin, our habits, our way of being "off the mark." There are many resources available to help us see our personal pow-erlessness. Some of these ways are: meditation using available schools of spirituality, or we might just sit, as in Zen guided ways, or use ap-proaches to centering prayer. We might pursue the insight into our par-ticular compulsions through the study of the Enneagram. We also might just listen to our own lives if we are having pain. Pain is a wonderful catalyst to growth! If we really want to take this step honestly, it is much easier if we share our "muddling through it" with another person. Whatever means Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we use, it is important to know that this S.P.E.A.K. model is not possi-ble until we take step one. Step Two. "Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." Sanity means wholeness. It means balance. Once we find ourselves in real need of change, our challenge is to allow ourselves to "come to," to wake up as if from the slumber or self-delusion we were in. The only assent required at this step is to believe that we are not the center of our universe, that there is a power greater than ourselves, that we are loved, and that we can become powerfully renewed. Ephesians 4:22-24 is one of many texts which comes to mind at this step. You must give up your old way of life; you must put aside your old self, which gets corrupted by following illusory desires. Your mind must be renewed by a spiritual revolution so that you can put on the new self that has been created in God's way, in the goodness and holiness of truth. Step Three. "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him." This step leads us to accept God's power in our lives. In step two we may want the revolution to happen. We might believe it possible, but it is in step three that we make a specific decision to let go and to let God take over. Revolution means change, and that is what we give consent to in step three without controlling any part of it. When we speak of such trust, we are using our own words, our own sense of who, at this time, God is for me. We make a prayer of this step and share it with another hu-man being. These steps are not done in the dark, but we bring them to the light and speak them to another. Step Four. "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our-selves.". We all have instincts. Most fall into the areas of social instincts, secu-rity instincts, and sexual instincts. Again it seems no coincidence that our vows are in the areas of obedience, poverty, and chastity. In this step, we accept to look at our lives as the beginning of a lifetime prac-tice. We look in a searching way at fears, resentments, harms, and hurts we have done, and which have been done to us. We name the instincts which are threatened, and our responses to them. We come to see our not-so-good patterns, our character defects, and our gifts, our assets as well. We see how we have been growing, and how we have yet to grow. The word, "fearless" is very important~ If we find ourselves resist-ing this inventory, then there is nothing wrong with staying at steps one, The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 193 two, or three. When we have become tired of life's condition, when we can believe that we can change, when we have really taken step three, then step four will follow comfortably without fear. Step Five. "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human be-ing the exact nature of our wrongs." In this step we invite another human being to be with us as we say out loud what we have learned in step four. There are many ways to do this, but as we come to name our patterns, our ways of responding, we gain insights, especially if the other person has taken this step, and truly loves us. To bring awareness before God is one thing, and it is beauti-ful. To bring awareness before God and another human being, to share it, to own it in the light is both beautiful and a blessing. This step helps us to stop isolating, to experience many profound les-sons in humility, to experience a whole new sense of kinship, of one-ness with others and with God. This kinship opens us to a connected-ness with whole new insights into the human condition, our place in the world, and a God consciousness which becomes a personal experience. Step Six. "Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. ' ' After the insights are gained in step five, more action is required. We do not only gain insight on this spiritual journey, but we use the in-sights. We made a decision in step three to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him; now in this step we real-ize that we are still very resistant people. We have worked hard to de-velop the defects we have. We wonder, "Who am I if I let go of them?" We even let ourselves chuckle at how we are as self-centered little chil-dren, and pray to get ready to let go of those defects of our character which we have learned about. Sometimes we say, "Of course I want them taken away," and this step is easy, but if that is not our experience at any given time, we accept to admit this is the step we are taking. Step Seven. "Humbly asked him tO remove our shortcomings." When we feel we are in charge, we try to use willpower, or positive imaging instead of taking this step. This step calls for us again to admit our powerlessness, our need for God. It is ego puncturing because we admit we cannot do this of ourselves. As St. Paul says. "I do the things I do not want to do." This step frees us from the trap of pride and fear. Little by little after we take this step, we find ourselves thinking differ-ently, feeling differently, r.esponding differently. People and situations around us change, if we have prayed our own seventh step prayer out loud with another human being. 194 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Step Eight. "Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became will-ing to make amends to them all." In religious life many of us were trained to forgive., forgive. forgive. This is essential; however, the eighth step helps us to focus on the resentments, the fears, the harms, and the hurts of our lives by paying attention to our responses. We can forgive and fester externally or internally for a long, long time! As we shared our fifth step, we became aware of ways in which our responses might have "needed improvement," or perhaps we were out-and- out vindictive. This step is best taken with another person to help us be thorough, to help ourselves not to hide, to isolate, or to be too hard on ourselves. Again, if this becomes fearful, perhaps there is a need to look at how badly we want this growth, the quality of our surrender and trust, and the reality of our seventh step. But we can also remember we are only making a list in this step. Step Nine. "Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, ex-cept when to do so would injure them or others." This step is also best discerned with another person, both to keep us honest as well as to help us figure out the best way to go about this ac-tion. Sometimes a person has died. Sometimes the person has moved, or we moved away. A letter might be enough, or we might need to wait to see her or him again. Sometimes it is best to let it go, and our forma-tion companion can help us decide when this is really true. Regardless, the freedom which comes inside us as we become ready to take responsibility for the consequences of our behavior is very exhilarating. Step Ten. "Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it." In order for the spiritual revolution to continue, we need to remain ready. Step ten is really a daily, weekly, monthly, and annual review of steps two through nine. There are many ways and resources available to us to use in this step. One way is to allow our dreams to happen, to write them down, to "mull over" their meaning with our formation compan-ion. Another is to be faithful to writing in a notebook of some sort a mini-fourth step, a summary of the good and the not-so-good of the day, to share it, then to do steps six through nine with what we learn. The more we do this, the easier and more comfortable it becomes. Step Eleven. "Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our con-scious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowl-edge of his will for us and the power to carry that out." The S.P.E.A.K. Model I 195 As we do the preliminary steps and work this step, we find that every-thing else is also "falling into place." We work this step as humble, empty vessels who know our need for God. We accept to be still, to lis-ten, to receive. Just as we could use the many resources available to us in the Church to take step one, we can also draw upon these resources to help us deepen in step eleven. There are three centers out of which we operate--the gut, the head, and the heart. Our predominant sin is located in there somewhere, and so is our growth. Perhaps centering prayer, the prayer of nothingness, is our vehicle. Perhaps more head-centered meditation on Scripture and spiritual teach-ings is our vehicle. Perhaps contemplation of images and affective re-sponse to them serve as our vehicle. Perhaps being with nature, or litur-gical celebrations, or devotions become our vehicles. The important thing is that we be as we are called to be. We have learned in these steps to let go and let God. If we share how we feel with our formation com-panion, this step becomes a profound and nourishing experience. In this step an awakening happens which leads us to hunger after holi-ness (wholeness) in all areas of our life. Our emotions become balanced. Our bodies seek proper rest, work and play rhythms, food and drink. We hunger for a sharing of peace and reconciliation in our relationships and in the world. We find ourselves led deeply to the roots of our religious lives, to a sense of meaning of sacrament and church, of our community's charism, and we become ready to witness this new sense in our relation-ships and in our ministry. Step Twelve. "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these prin-ciples in all our affairs." We have received a free gift. We can work to keep it alive, but if we hold on to it exclusively, it becomes stagnant. That is the nature of the spiritual journey. As a result of these steps, we have known a spiri-tual awakening. We have known love, a God and Gospel consciousness at a personal level. The irony of this love is that we must let it go if we are to hold on to it. Anything we used to hold on to is constantly chal-lenged by the gift of our new God-relationship. We find ourselves driven to live right attitudes--to develop God attitudes, the be-attitudes, to do his Way in all of our life. Select a Formation Companion We have a long-standing precedent for having a spiritual compan- Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ion within the Church as well as within many of the Oriental religions. However, even though we have been encouraged to avail of spiritual direc-tors, many religious have not availed themselves of these opportunities. This was for a variety of reasons. Some wondered what there was to talk about. Some could not find someone who felt qualified. Some used a con-fessor, and kept the focus more sin-and problem-centered. Some used spiritual directors, but restricted the interactions to areas of the spiritual domain. Others have used a spiritual director as a formation companion without naming the person as such. This latter group knows the power and potential for having a formation companion. The qualification for being someone's companion is that we are also working these steps, and sharing honestly of ourselves with someone. No advanced degrees are required because it is humility found in a relationship with God that we seek. The formation companion could be male or female, priest, religious, or lay person. What is important for us is that our companion understand these steps, and be willing to walk with us as we journey them. The criterion we use to ask someone to serve as our formation com-panion is that we feel this person cares for us, has common sense,~,and is also working a "formation program." Our companion calls us to honesty and celebrates growth with us, but this person does not attempt to fill any need other than serving as the formation companion. As we grow, we may find ourselves broadening and using many others to share our journey. We may use physicians, psy-chologists, a spiritual support group, the people with whom we live, other friends, our superiors, our employers, a confessor. The Areas of the S.P.E.A.K. Model Spiritual The steps lead us completely in this area. As we grow in this spiri-tual revolution and in union through steps one through eleven, we de-velop insights that lead us to hunger for balance in the other areas. We find that as we deepen and grow in this area, if there has been careless-ness in the communal expression of our prayer, even this turns around. We soften. We find time where time was not to be found before. We hun-ger to be with each other in our religious expression as well as in the deeper leadings of the area of Koinonia. Physical The body is essential for us if we are to operate as feeling, relating The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 197 human beings. It is a vital source for information about our lives, and a key support for us to function in all areas. Our bodies can be scream-ing warnings to us if we will pay attention. For example, our bodies tell us if we are suppressing feelings or living relationships in ways that are dishonest to ourselves or to others. We can experience gastrointestinal problems, ulcers, high blood pressure, cancer, and back problems. If there is rigidity in the muscles, there is often rigidity in the emotions and spirit. The challenge of this area is to listen to the cues, to work the steps to learn what is happening, and to develop habits which are life-giving, respectful, and nurturing for the body as well as the other areas of our lives. If we listen to the input of others as well as observe our own lives, we may see that we are making body choices which are harmful to the other S.P.E.A.K. areas. For example, we might be choosing the use of substances such as nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, or sugar as substitutes for feeling, or to fill emotional, spiritual, or relational lack. In addition to life choices which affec( our continuing formation, there are those choices for fast food, for beef, for comfort and conven-ience which have implications for the rest of the world's famine and un-dernutrition. Part of the challenge of this area is the aspect of practicing the physi-cal and spiritual discipline of fasting to detoxify and rebalance the body, to reverse even degenerative illness, and to bring ourselves into a deeper harmony with others. Just as we need to keep working these steps in the other areas where physical inertia is seen, we have a cue that an imbalance is happening, and an opportunity to reflect upon the reason for this shutdown. Inertia is life denying. The body requires regular aerobic movement to increase the circulatory flow, the metabolic rate for heart, skeletal and muscular tone, for body conditioning, and to allow for oxygen to get to the brain. Emotional One of the promises of the awakening which we experience in step eleven is a sense that emotional balance and wholeness are happening. Before we experience this balance, however, we would have taken some serious steps to be ready for inner healing. These steps take time, and as we learn more about who we are, we can continue to share this with another, work with it, work these steps and deepen. Perhaps as we did our inventory, we saw patterns of overinflated or underinflated self-esteem, patterns of overe.ngagement in activity or serv-ice, perfectionism, depression, fear, resentments. Perhaps we saw that 198 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we isolate from others, do not share our feelings. Perhaps we give our love and attention to pets, compare ourselves to others, blame others, feel jealous, judge people's motives, interpret others' motives to others, think rigidly either positively or negatively about others, isolate ourselves from others or hide our feelings or practice. Perhaps we use food or drink, work, sex to hide from feelings. The task of these steps is to bring the darkness to light, that the dark-ness may lose its power over us. In the S.P.E.A.K. model, we practice naming our feelings, reflecting upon what happens to trigger them, look-ing at our instincts which we perceive as being threatened and at our re-sponses to these threats. As we practice this and work steps two through nine, we find ourselves growing much stronger, more serene, more pow-erful, and more humble. Apostolic Today's society, the "world" of St. John's gospel, rewards us if we have power. We are encouraged to become specialists. This applies to the areas of medicine, psychology, sbcial work, education, spiritual direction, and pastoral ministry. It is easy for us to be sensitive to our congregational financial pressures, to time demands, and to be seduced by this world. For those walking the Gospel path, working the 12 steps, the value of our apostolic mission is in living out our spiritual awakening and ex-perience. This is why the spiritual, emotional, and koinonia areas are so important as prerequisites to ministry. Our mission is to be the charism of our congregations in deep solidarity with the anguish which is under-neath all the glitter of power and success. If we are not yet comfortable with our own anguish, and with sharing it with others, we cannot con-vey this experience to others. As Nouwen says, our leadership, our value lies in that we dare to claim our irrelevancy in the contemporary world. We are parts of insti-tutions, but our challenge is to be humble, to work these steps, to walk a spiritual path, to reflect the koinonia attitude in how we reflect the mer-ciful love and justice of God with others. Koinonia In the 12 steps, we come to let go of fears or pseudocommunity pre-tenses, self-seeking, and control. The 12 steps help us to relate more hon-estly, more compassionately to the people with whom we live and work, but there is anoiher dimension beyond this. Koinonia is a Greek word meaning "a deep sense of interconnectedness, of communion with oth- The S.P.E.A.K. Model ers at the faith level." Rollo May suggests that our entire culture is schizoid, out of touch, avoiding close relationships, unable to feel, unable to express aggressive feelings directly, seclusive and personally withdrawn. In this koinonia area we measure our lifestyles against the radical demands of the Gos-pel model of Jesus. We contrast it with the dominant values of society, the dependencies, the addictions, the fear, and the lack of touch. Koinonia challenges us to see the whole world as a community. Our new spiritual awakening leads us to hunger to create a new civilization in which war, violence, terrorism, and oppression are banished. We know from our own personal experience that another way is possible. No one of us can do this of ourselves, but just as the early Church persisted, and pervades the earth today, so can we, one small community at a time! For interrelatedness to happen in this world, people have to be in-terrelating; then God takes over and lets the miracles happen. We let go, and let him. The challenge of koinonia is for us to drop pretenses, to leave the door open for others to see us cry, to be with us as we grow, to hear our laughter, to let people see how we love each other. From this koinonia sense, we grow to be able to include others, to let them walk in and touch us so that even more of us are empowered to know and wit-ness to his Good News. Summary The power of the S.P.E.A.K. model lies in our openness to continue to let go, to let God be God in our lives. We use and continue to use the 12 steps and a formation companion so that we deepen in a personal relationship with him. We work and pray to be teachable spiritually, physi-cally, emotionally, relati0nally, and in our ministry, not for ourselves, but so that a troubled world may know what w.e see, and hear, and know. As a direct result of working this program, of walking these steps, we find that we no longer have to hold up masks of spiritual perfection since we are "professional," vowed religious. Instead, we have become free to share our struggle with others as equals in his love. We share our spiritual progress. We do not need to be self-protective anymore, but our arms are open to include others. There is nothing to fear because there is nothing to protect. If there is concern as to how to start with these twelve steps, there are often ready and available resources in each local parish and in many retreat houses and religious communities. Many parishes have good solid parish leaders who are recovering from some compulsive pattern or ad-diction. These people are more than ready to share the Good News with 200 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 us. Also, many religious communities and retreat houses have members in 12-step programs, or who have learned of these steps by exploring them in their own lives. These people are also usually more than gener-ous in sharing what they have seen and heard with their own eyes and ears. 'RESOURCES Alcoholics Anonymous.Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. New York: Alcohol-ics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1981. Elgin, Duane. Voluntary Simplicity: Toward A Way of Life That Is Outwardly Sim-ple, Inwardly Rich. N.Y.: William Morrow & Co., 1981. Hart, Thomas N. The Art of Christian Listening. N.Y.: Paulist Press. 1980. Main, John, O.S.B. Death: The Inner Journey. Montreal: Benedictine Priory, 1983. Nouwen, Henri. With OutStretched Hands: Reflections on Christian Leadership in the Future. Unpublished paper, 1989. Palmer, Helen. Enneagram: Understanding Yourself and the Others in Your Life. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988. Peck, M. Scott. The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace. New York: Si-mon & Shuster, 1987. Schaef, Anne W. Co-Dependence: Misunderstood--Mistreated. Minneapolis, MN: Winston Press, 1986. Sperry, Len. "Daily Decisions About Nutrition." Human Development 9 (Spring, 1988). Pp. 40-46. Subby, Robert, and Fried, John. "Co-Dependence: A Paradoxical Dependency," in Co-Dependency! An Emerging Issue, Pompano Beach, Florida: Hath Communi-cations, 1984. Trungpa, Chogyam. Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism. Boston: Shambala, 1973. In the Valley of Decision Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie Beha, O.S.C., continues to reside in the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. In the early days of my religious life, one Sunday a month was set aside as a day of recollection, a retreat day. Out of earshot of the novice di-rector, we called it "dead Sunday," because it featured extra time for a meditation on death. Even though we resisted some of the more mor-bid descriptions following that meditation's first prelude, "Place your-self on your deathbed," the practice did ensure that we were regularly confronted with the realization of personal mortality. Today there are plenty of other reminders: tragedy that shouts in the headlines and is pictured in all its starkness on television or in the news magazines, the alarming statistics of the rising number of adolescent sui-cides, the toll of AIDS, the senseless slaughter of innocent victims in bombing raids, and the torture of random hostages. To this litany we add our more personalized grief over the death of family and friends. We know dying in all of its unexpectedness, its violence, its tragedy, our grief compounded the closer we are to the individuals who have died. And in our world of instant communication death is never very far away. What we are less familiar with is the dying of our institutions, our communities. Not that this is a new phenomenon either. It is as much a fact of life as the death of individuals but less perceptible except with the long look of history. By the time that history notices, however, those with most reason to mourn have already passed th.rough death them-selves. Yet institutional dying is an ever present reality. On the global level we are threatened by almost certain extinction if nation against nation 201 202 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ever turns to nuclear war. We face the unknown consequences of our wan-ton destruction of rain forests centuries in the growing. We worry about environmental pollution passing on to the next generation, an earth poi-soned beyond, control. We experience that our technology so outstrips our wisdom that we may be as likely to kill as to cure. On the local level, that of the communities where we live, we con-front death every time a neighborhood is ripped up to make way for prog-ress or a business closes because of obsolescence. Families come to the end of the generations, as they have always done, but now the very in-stitution of the family itself seems doomed to extinction. Divorce, child-less marriages, abortion, weaken it from within, while drugs and the value-system of a consumer society attack it from without. Churches are empty so parishes close, following the demise of the parochial school. Religious communities face not only financial crises of major proportions but also the slow starvation of fewer and fewer vocations. Already some congregations are opting for survival through merger; others have been "suppressed," as the death process is termed, grimly enough, in Church law. Within the foreshortened history of our individual lives, we can no longer deny the mortality of our institutions; we are being invited to en-ter consciously into what is happening all around us. We become aware that some communities simply expire, brought down by their own dis-eased condition or their inability to receive from, or give life to, the world around them. They starve to death. Others die honorably and natu-rally of old age. Some fade away forced by circumstances to accept their growing irrelevance; others are felled by revolution while still in their prime. The question is not "Do institutions die?" but "How do they? And how do we respond to their dying?" Are we aware or do we prefer the apparent safety of denial? When denial is no longer possible, what do we do then? Rage against the inevitable? Give up? Bargain for more time? Or do we face institutional death with courage, living the present to the full, admitting that life's precariousness is part of its preciousness? The choice of response is ours, not only as individuals, but as commu-nities. Instant communication provides information; it does not ensure adequate response nor delay death's inevitability. Institutions must die, but how they die is a matter of decision. Ours! Theological Reflections for a Dying Community On our way north we had stopped overnight, availing ourselves of the gracious hospitality that had suggested, "Come anytime." The build- In the Valley of Decision / 203 ing was 1950-modern, far too large for the eight or so sisters who pres-ently occupied it. The refectory seemed cavernous; it could easily have seated forty. Mercifully the community room was small and cozy, the superior.exp!aining that it had once been the priest's dining room. She also mentioned that the third floor was closed off to save heat, and it was obvious that the second floor was sparsely populated. The situation was depressingly familiar. What was remarkable was the sense of joy that made supper a re-freshment for body and spirit. The sisters welcoming us ranged in age from the superior in her late 40s, who had introduced herself as "the only young sister here," to an octogenarian busily can'ying in dishes from the kitchen. I was seated next to a sister in a wheel chair who had been brought in by another sister who seemed to be using the wheel chair as a substitute walker. Both smiled a sincere welcome, "We are so glad to have you with us." Others gathered and I guessed the average age somewhere in the 70s. The conversation soon revealed that most were active in one way or another. Some spoke of bringing Communion to the sick; others of tutoring kids from the nearby elementary school. One 85- year-old had tales to tell of the black children she helped in a Head Start program; her love for the children was obvious. Another drew her chair closer to mine, saying that she did not hear well anymore and did not want to miss a word; her attentiveness the rest 6f the meal made us all more articulate. Table conversation included convent trivia but it did not stay there. The sisters read widely and well. They ~ere critical of what the~ had heard on TV, exchanged evaluations of VCR programs. And peppered me with good questions in a way that told me why they were so well in-formed about what was happening in the contemporary Church. When they welcomed visitors, these sisters welcomed the wider world. Towards the end of the meal, I deliberately intoned the familiar list of religious-life woes: few recruits, shrinking apostolates, the "greying" of the congregation. The facts were acknowledged. The sisters' response was obviously the fruit of many shared reflections. They were happy with the community they had chosen and the life they shared; now they would see each other through to the end. God was with .them, still at work in his world. As one said to me with a smile that I will never for-get, "Our community may be dying but God is making something new. ' ' As I threaded my way back to the freeway next morning, I found my-self reflecting on what I had heard and seen. There was no denial of 91~4 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 death. The shrinking number of sisters and their physical limitations were accepted facts of life; they were not neurotic preoccupations. The sisters were too alive for that. Their acceptance was not tainted with hopeless-ness and its equivalent suicide. They were not actualizing their worst fears by giving in to bitterness or despair. Today their community is alive; some tomorrow it might not be. Progression toward an end time is inevitable, whether it is their owndeath, that of the their beloved con-gregation, or the final days of the world. "And after that the judg-ment"., a judgment that is in the making in their response now. Im-plicit in the faith of these few old sisters was a whole theology of the death and dying of institutions. Awareness precedes acceptance. So faith-response to death and dy-ing begins by breaking through denial. Like the middle-aged woman look-ing in the mirror and acknowledging that the first wrinkles are more than shadows caused by poor lighting, all need to admit "We are moving to-ward death." This world is passing away and the institutions that pres-ently shape it will not always do so. Even now all are dying. At times this process accelerates and we experience the diminish-ment. The grace of such periods is that of bringing us into contact with a truth we too easily ignore; its occasion of sin is confusion in our re-sponse. There are seasons when death's approach must be resisted strongly; in fact, this is always our first response. "Choose life." But there comes a time when resistance is useless; surrender is called for. The difference between may be difficult to recognize but it is critically im-portant. Faith's response balances "choose life" with "accept death." For the believer, for the community of believers, the ultimate answer is not biological, nor sociological, but Christological. "Am I alive in Christ? Is my dying a going to the Father in and with Christ Jesus?" If so, my death is a coming alive. "Or am I mortally, morally, and spiritually sick unto eternal death?" Then my living and my dying are both lost forever. Responding to this question that all death and dying puts before us forces freedom's choice. Our answer rises out of life; it is the last sylla-ble in the sentence we have been phrasing in all the pronouncements of life, all individual or institutional decision-making. Only in death will we become finally free to speak the word that is Self. Only in the act of dying will we, individuals and communities, be capable of that con-summation of freedom which is total, absolute, commitment. In dying, the mystery of living stands revealed; dying-rising are one whole mystery, one continuous process, one word, even though our ex- In the Valley of Decision / 205 perience, as well as our orthography, spells it with a hyphen. Dying is a breakthrough into life; at least, it can be. That is freedom's choice; we determine the meaning. Just as Jesus did. Dying: Christological Implications. How did Jesus die? The answer has been repeated so often that the cross has lost its power to say anything; it is decoration more than real-ity. Yet redemption, becoming free, growing into holiness, are only pos-sible when we as individuals, as communities, enter into the passion and death of Jesus. So again, how did Jesus die? As we do, moving through the process of realizing it, being angered by it, bargaining with it, feeling blackness of depression, and, finally, coming to an acceptance that transforms death into fuller life. Particularly in the gospel of Luke, we see the whole life of Jesus as a moving toward his death. We read, "He set his face toward Jerusa-lem" (Lk 9:51). This was where he was going, the call of his Father's .love, the motivation for his every redemptive act. Death and dying were important concerns he spoke about to those who were closest to him. Not that they understood or appreciated such reminders of mortality. They denied the facts, even protested. They were for kingdom building here, now, in their world. And Jesus rebuked them sharply, "Get behind me, satan" (Mk 8:33). Jesus acknowledged death's inevitability; he knew that his way of liv-ing would lead to the cross. What he chose was life, a life that would climax in death. He freely accepted the fatal consequences of choosing to live, to teach, to act as he did. Aware and able to choose, in the free-dom that rose from who he was before the Father, he embraced the dy-ing that went with the living. Knowing and accepting did not rule out protest. Jesus' response to the pharisees who were seeking to put him to death (Jn 8:40) was clear and unequivocal. They were doing the work of the devil, whose sons they were! Even at the end, Jesus protested the injustice of his being con-demned to death. He refused to cooperate with Herod's court of inquiry, remaining silent when lifesaving prudence might have dictated at least a minimum of cooperation. Before Pilate, his protest became vocal. "Do you ask this of your own accord. ? . My kingdom is not of this world" (Jn 18:35). Previous to this, the power of his self-assertion directed against the soldiers sent to arrest him had set them back on their heels. Jesus was angry; he did not deserve death. "If I have done good why do you seek 206 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 to kill me?" Why die? Why me? That is the protest life addresses to death. Ultimately it becomes a question addressed to the Lord of life. Why suffering? Why dying? The answer does not come easily. The healthier the person, the more wrench-ing the acceptance. Jesus sweat blood before his will could speak out its central commitment, "Not my will but yours be done" (Mk 14:37). The struggle, the bargaining, were finished. The passion continued. The dying of Jesus moved toward completion, each stage bringing him down, deeper into "the pit of death." Betrayal, abandonment, physi-cal and emotional abuse would take their terrible toll. Fastened to the cross Jesus would drink death's cup to the bitter dregs. He would express heartbreak in a cry of desolation, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mk 15:34). "He who did not know sin had been made sin" (2 Co 5:21) for our sake, and Jesus felt the oppression of slavery and alienation. He accepted, "It is accomplished" (Jn 19:30). His last word summed up his life's orientation. He would die as he had lived into the hands of his Father, his trust redeeming the horror of death by cruci-fixion, transforming passion's suffering into self-offering. The acceptance of Jesus' surrender opened out into the new life of resurrection. What he gave up, he received back; rather, his resurrection was a "making new." Through dying, he went beyond death. This is now clear to us with the evidence of something accomplished. But for Jesus, as for us, surrender into death was an act of faith, an experience of letting go with only trust to justify the risk. Death must come first, before new life is possible. Jesus had to lose his life. So must we. Mortality Denied The passion and death of Jesus is invitation, something we can freely enter into or can refuse and resist. Whatever our choice, the process ton-tinues but its effectiveness depends radically on our response to this fact of life, our mortality as individuals and as communities. We can opt to live through our dying or we can choose to deny death and so die to life. Denial is the first of our resistances. A community, for example, can refuse to face what is happening, as the number of new members de-creases and average age rises. Data are challenged; the credentials of the statistician questioned. Others are blamed for the crisis; "they" are no longer generous, interested, concerned. These are obvious forms of de-nial and they do nothing to stop the progress of decline. Less obvious is the denial that refuses to face, not only the symp-toms, but the cause of the illness as well, its seriousness, the rate of pro-gression, its effect on others. Why is community dying? Is it diseased, In the Valley of Decision / 207 brought down by "infection" from surrounding culture or by a lifestyle that is no longer functional? Or is it simply succumbing to old age, the inevitable decline that is the underside of history's progress? Is this pro-cess reversible, something that a group needs to pass through and then go on with life as before? Or does it require a change of direction, a new and different way of living? Is this illness terminal? If so, how much time is left? How rapid the progression of present rates of decline? Howare others affected by our dying as community? Are they suffering too, and what can be done to alleviate their pain? The questions are stark; no one asks them lightly. Unwillingness to even look at them is denial made possible through the use of those de-fense mechanisms with which we are all too familiar. We rationalize, pre-senting specious reasons to explain present experience: we are not dy-ing, just "indisposed." The whole problem is temporary; things will turn around soon. Besides we are not to blame. The reverse side of this stance.is: some-body must be. We blame other people, including God! Our dying is the will of God and so must be accepted. Perhaps. "God willing" may ex-press surrender but it may also attribute to God something that we have not yet faced. The very rightness of our reasoning is all the more dan-gerous because it cloaks denial with religious ritual, an especially safe form of repression. Paradoxically, community may also deny responsibility by giving too much credence to those who are predicting its demise; it lacks the inner freedom to reply, "The reports of our death are greatly exagger-ated!" While the prophets of doom may be correct, they may also be mis-taken. The accuracy of their prophecies will only be revealed when the future becomes present. All we know now is that attitude makes a dif-ference. While refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation will not cure it, giving up hope will surely condemn us to death. Another inappropriate response attempts to ignore the whole ques-tion and continues, doggedly, to do what "we have always done." We may call this fidelity but it is not. Fidelity is creative response incorpo-rating past into present and moving on into the new of the future. Denial condemns to fruitless repetition that goes nowhere. Preoccupation with safety and security needs is a rather accurate index of a group's mori-bund condition. Overreliance on what has worked in the past may simu-late faith, but it really is presumption. "God will take care of us" may be just another attempt to manipulate God into doing what we neglect to do for ourselves. 2011 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Denial is failed responsibility; it violates the delicate line of balance between doing all that we can but not more than we ought. So commu-nity that is experiencing some of the symptoms of approaching death errs either by ignoring the situation or by exaggerating solutions. It can, for example, refuse assistance, since accepting help involves admitting a need for it. It can also erupt in a flurry of poorly planned activity, lis-tening to every guru who promises gilt-edged salvation. Fund-raisers can be a preferred way for Americans to refuse responsibility while appear-ing to assume it. Community Anger The hidden blessing of denial is its inevitable failure. When facts can no longer be avoided, they must be faced. Anger follows. Unfortunately, it too can be denied, hidden, buried under heaps of inappropriate behav-ior, deflected in projections; or it can rage out of control, leaving devas-tation in its wake. Anger denied is dangerous; anger accepted and appropriately ex-pressed is powerful energy for good. It can move a community deeper into the paschal mystery; it can lead to life. The question is how? The first answer: by acknowledging what is happening. Are we as commu-nity angry? What are we angry about? Community anger, like that of individuals, is often misplaced. It looks for some convenient target; so we kick the dog because we cannot face its owner. Seeking some scapegoat we may even turn against our own. If our predecessors had only been wiser. If present membership were less selfish, recruitment more effective, formation better planned. What may have been only contributing factors are made to bear the whole weight of adequate causes. The same projection of anger can be vented on persons and groups outside community. The more helpless the victim, the safer the outrage. An angry community becomes increasingly critical. Its spirit grows sour; its activity strained and harsh. It asks too much of members and of others. Aggressivity swallows up joy, dissolves compassion. Dying is always pain-filled, difficult. Anger is a "messy" emotion. Commu-nity at this stage will be broken wide open, all its wounds and weak-nesses revealed. Members will leave, pursued by the fury of those who remain and feel abandoned. Those who stay may wallow in unattractive self-pity, becoming entrenched in the very symptoms of the dying. Underneath this storm of pain, community is most of all angry at it-self. We cannot live "on our own"; mortality strikes a vital blow at the myth of .self-sufficiency. The length of our days is not something we con- In the Valley of Decision / 209 trol. Our raging against this will not change its truth. Acceptance is the only way through and out. Grief Work But first community needs to mourn. We are losing our life. We may not know yet whether what we are facing is the final test of death and burial or only the call to pass through another cycle of dying. In either case we must enter into the pain. Grievir~g community needs both time and distance. Some members can let go of the.past more quickly than others, the rate being determined by such variables as temperament and degree of attachment. Mourning demands patience; it is not just linear but cyclic. Going through requires repetition, reexperiencing and reexpressing the grief. Things will not be the same . . . ever., this is an ending. Community needs to provide itself with space and time for the griev-ing. When members leave, for example, those who are left behind may have as much adjusting to do as those who face the transition into new beginnings. The anger of the community may even be increased by the fact---characteristic of all our dying--that it has been confronted with a decision not of its own choosing. Healthy grieving not only takes time; it has its own timing. How long it lasts and how often the cycle of anger., depression., anger. must be repeated cannot be determined from outside community. But, finally, a group, as well as the individuals who compose it, need to make a decision to move on. We will never be the same. The past cannot be reconstructed; nor those who have been part of us, returned. As much as we might like to remember past glory-days, they no longer offer the satisfaction of present reality. Now we have to live., or not live. in the present. Unhealthy grieving fails this reality test. It can be so prolonged that all one's life energy goes into it; dying is all that remains of life. That is not grief but defeat. Even in the pain the option remains to "choose life." So a community that is dying can continue to model attitudes of openness and concern for others. It can choose to serve as long and as much as it is able. In doing so it affirms the ultimate value of life even in the midst of death. Community can avoid the withdrawal, the turning in on self, that threatens to allow dying to become a form of being buried alive. De-pression risks just such introversion. Granted that the temptation to al-low pain to become preoccupation can be great, it is also self-defeating. It only intensifies and prolongs the suffering. Depression that is indulged 910 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 in grows bitter and that is the worst kind of death; in the end, the natural aloneness of dying becomes enforced isolation. To avoid this, outside support is almost necessary to assist groups working through depression. Their greater objectivity enables com-munity not to get stuck in the process. Perhaps all that others do is to name what is going on and this already frees energies. While ac-knowledgment is one service others render, appreciation is still more thera-peutic. ApFreciation of what has been, yes, but also gratitude for the im-mediate gift that the dying community continues to offer, its participa-tion in the paschal mystery. Acceptance of Death Acceptance should not image supine submission to what can no longer be avoided. It is an attitude of strength that kno

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

Issue 28.4 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. Gailen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to R~EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63~o3. Questions for answering s.hould be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Db.'inity of Saitxt 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 bimonthly and copyright ~) 1969by REvIr:W. voR REt.mlOt:S at 428 East Preston Street; Bahimore, Mary-land 2t202. Printed in U,S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing offices, Single copies: $1,00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two .years; othei 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 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where ac¢om. panied by a remittance, should be sent to REVIEW VOR RELIGIOUS; P. O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203. Changes of address, business correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent:to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ; 421:1 East Preston Street; Baltimore, MarTland 2120'2. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOL'S; 612 Humbold t Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis "Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. JULY 1969 VOLUME 28 NUMBER 4 SISTER ELAINE MARIE PREVALLET, S.L. Reflections .on . Pr a and Religious Renewal It is fairly commonplace today that in all the talk of religious renewal the most neglected area is that of prayer. One might hazard the guess that this area is one of the most basic and most in need of rethinking and genuine renewal; one might also hazard the guess that people do not talk in depth about it because they do not know what to say. Like other areas of.renewal, there is question of what can be changed and what must remain. iEqually, there is growing realization that it will not be su~ient, to change the horarium and the outward form ur:less there is also renewal of the inner dynamic of /, prayer. To change structure may indeed be the likeliest ',,.¢-,way to achieve the change in process and attitude. If that is so, as the structure begins to change, new develop-ments in our understanding of prayer may arise from the life and experiences of renewal-minded religious com-munities during the next decade. What will be needed, however, is much sharing of and reflection upon the experience of religious, and sensitivity to new insights into the character of their prayer. We shall attempt here only to indicate some general areas of difficulty or de-velopment which characterize our present situation; Two observations may be in order at the outset. First, the difficulty with the concept of prayer is no doubt due to the pace and noise of modern society; but it is, I believe, more largely due to the crisis of faith which characterizes our age. When the basic notion of God is under so much scrutiny, and when one finds so much un-certainty as to the meaning and validity of believing in God at all, then obviously the concept of pra~e.r cannot remain untouched. For the nature and meaning of prayer will be determined by the character or concept of the one to whom one prays. Even though our under-standing of God must be constantly changing and growing, yet it must be in some fundamental way secure 4- Sister Elaine Ma-rie, S.L. is the chairman ol the de-partment of theol-og~ at Loretto Heights College; 3001 South Fed-eral; Denver, Colo-rado. 802S6:!2, ~ VOLUME :28, 1969. ÷ ÷ ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 532 in faith. If we are not sure of God or it we do not know what our relationship to Him is, we cannot, be sure ot praye~---whether we should pray or how much we should pray. Hence, the difficulties in prhyer are closely tied to difficulties in faith.1 Secondl), it seems to me an unnecessary obfuscation of the issue to speak ot work as prayer. Prayer must, ot course, have an intimate connection with life and must therefore be related to work; but it aids neither our understanding nor our prayer to say that work is prayer. Prayer, as I shall refer to it, contains an essential com-ponent ot consciousness, reflection; it includes what has traditionally been named meditation. It may indeed occur that one prays--reflects upon meanings and values in the light ot the gospel message or one's understand-ing ot God--while one works. But to equate the two seems to me to be playing with words, the result being the loss ot the meaning ot prayer. Reflection takes time, effort, concentration. We are not a patient society, not used to being quiet; we are used to looking tot quick pragmatic results. Prayer demands patience and quiet; and it will often produce no immediate, demonstrable result. Hence, the tendency is to want to leave prayer aside, and one way ot doing this is simply to make facile verbal equation between work and prayer. The;~is~ sue is then quickly settled. When we are lett to our own in the matter that is, it we have provided no set time or place or fre-y.~] quency-~our experience will probably be that prayer will, sooner or later, simply drop out ot the picture. It will be pushed out by more immediate demands, more concrete "work to do." Yet it seems essential that the lives ot religious have a dimension ot depth and that religious themselves have what might be called a con-sciousness ot ultimacy. They must have a certain steady perspective, a clear focus. They must have this, not just for themselves, but [or others, as part of their service. Yet, in the immediacies that make up daily living, perspective and focus are easily lost; depth quickly turns shallow and empty. It seems necessary, then, to provide for oneself time and quiet to ponder meanings and values in the light ot the gospel message or in the light o[ one's understanding ot God. It is necessary to deepen one's understanding o[ faith, to reflect on the meaning ot God's loving presence. Finding God in prayer is a necessary concomitant to recognizing His presence in XA good treatment of this situation is given by Douglas Rhymes, Prayer in the Secular City (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1967), espe-cially pp. 12-25. all things. Obviously, this is saying nothir~g new. It is simply reasserting the value of balancing action with contemplation.2 Let us now consider some perspectives which may prove valuable to the development of prayer at the present time. Christianity and Personalism From all sides we become aware that we are living in an age of "the person," an age which has a new realiza-tion of the value, the uniqueness, the importance of the human person. In this context, Christianity shows itself as eminently propounding the value of the human per-son: the Christian revelation of God as Trinity is, after all, a revelation of God as personal, as communicating Persons. The Incarnation speaks of the personal love of God for man and His desire to be in communion with man; the Resurrection of Christ speaks of the continuing possibility for man to be in personal communion with God through the humanity of Christ. These three central dogmas of the Christian mystery indicate that man's re-lationship with God is a deeply personal one, allowing whatever is deepest and most unique in each man to find its expression and its fulfillment in his relationsh.ip with the Divine Persons. If we seek to understand prayer, therefore, we may well begin with simply this affirmation of man as person and God as Persons. We may move from that to a second affirmation, equally involving the dimensions of person, and speak of presence. For the possibility of being per-sonally present to another is one of the highest preroga: tives of man. Here again the Trinity speaks of personal presence as belonging to God Himself; the Incarnation speaks of the presence of God to man in Christ, and the Resurrection speaks of the continuing presence of the risen Christ to His followers. If we wish a basis for personal prayer, we need no other starting point than these fundamental Christian affirmations. We can under-stand personal prayer as involving the presence of the Three Persons who are God, and, most especially, the presence of the risen Christ. To be conscious of this presence requires faith, but also deliberate effort--time and concentration--to reflect upon the faith-datum and its significance. ~ We do not wish to assert priorities here; it is not a case of either/or, but of both/and. Equally, we do not wish to deny that when faith is deeply lived, there need be no disjunction, between work and prayer. But given our human situation, it seems safe to say, minimally, that thought is necessary for finding and maintain-ing meaning and perspective. -:;- ", -- 4- ÷ ÷ Prayer and Renewal VOLUME 28, 1969 Sister Elain~ Mari~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Individual Prayer We can move from here to ask what characterizes the relationship between the risen Christ and the believer, and therefore what the qualities of prayer will be.~ We can treat these briefly under the headings of love, need, and thanksgiving. If we examine any love relationship, we will find that it always involves a personal petition to be accepted and loved by the other. Hence love always involves prayer to the other--a petition, implicit or explicit, for under-standing, for acceptance--simply for communion. In the last analysis, what any such prayer seeks is com-munion of heart and mind, reconciliation of under-standing and wills. Expressed simp!y, we want to be one with the person to whom we are praying:' we want him to understand our prayer, and we want to understand him as he receives our prayer. It is here that meditation on the life of Christ in the Gospels finds its importance. For the risen Christ now is the same Christ who lived the inciden~ ts portrayed in the Gospels; He is now, as it were, the result of the experiences which He assimilated dur-ing His earthly life. The mysteries of His life on earth live on in Him, and they must be entered into by any-one wishing to know Him as He is now. To use an analogy: I am as I am now because of what has hap-pened to me in the past. Anyone who wants to under-stand me deeply ~nust understand certain of the signifi-cant experiences that have formed me, have given my life direction. And in the measure that another under-stands in a deep and compassionate way my past, in the measure that another has been able to enter into my past, to experience it with me, the other will under- Stand me. So in our attempt to come to union of heart and mind with Christ: insofar as we penetrate the experience de-picted in the gospel, we come to understand the living Christ who is now as He is because of those experiences. If we want to know the Christ whom we are petitioning, then we will need to know Him through the Gospels.* Further, in any love relationship, the one whom we love finally determines both the character and the con-tent of a prayer; in some sense then, the one addressed in prayer has a major role in creating the prayer. We * Much of the following is drawn from M. Nddoncelle's analysis in God's Encounter with Man (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964). * For a more detailed and carefully nuanced presentation of the place of contemplation of the Gospels in Christian life, see David Stanley, "Contemplation of the Gospels, Ignatius Loyola, and the Contemporary Christian," Theological Studies, v. 29 (1968), pp. 417--45. will ask for what the one petitioned can give, and we will ask it in a way we know to be acceptable to him. Reflection upon this will perhaps give a direction for thinking about the questions so often posed these days: why should I pray? for what should I pray? If one re-flects that the one receiving the petition is God, loving and personal, then one might conclude that one could ask God for anything, for nothing is impossible to Him. However, if one considers more deeply the person of Christ, and, knowing Christ, knows also His deepest concerns, then one would be led to pray not for trivia but to seek in prayer a communion in His concerns. The Christ of the Gospels has as His deep concern the genuine well-being of men, their relationships, their dignity, their fulfillment. Our prayer, then, if it really considers the one petitioned and seeks communion with Him, will result in a sharing in His concern for men, communion in His outlook with respect to the needs of men, communion of understanding of the Christian task. Thus, if we have sought genuine com-munion with Christ, our prayer will impel us outward-- to meet the needs o£ the neighbor. This means also that we need not leave behind or abstract from our own daily living and working in prayer, but rather that we try to come to see how Christ's concern, His outlook, His understanding, can be translated by us into our con-crete situations. From the other side, the one petitioned would want to understand us as we approach him in prayer--why we pray, what its content means, and to respond in the way that will fulfill the deepest need of the one praying. Love does not refuse the petition of love, yet must be at liberty to answer as love knows best. Hence prayer can never be an effort at manipulation; it can never seek to use the other as the instrument of its own advance. Love approaches the autonomy of the other, approaches him freely and leaves the other free in response. Again, then, love is seeking nothing so much as communion; it is entering into the myster~ of the other, it is allowing two freedoms to meet, it is allowing its own develop-ment to be charted by the free response of the other. Prayer will accordingly always contain an element of surrender. But we can approach prayer also from the angle of existential human need. To seek communion with an-other is really to seek to fulfill a deep human need--the need to come to terms with human existence as incom-plete, to free oneself from self-sufficiency. To recognize one's own need, to approach another in need is, con-trary to our tendency to sufficiency, deeply human and + Prayer and Renewa! VOLUME 28, 1969 Sister Elaine Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 536 deeply fulfilling. To pray to another is to offer oneself as apprentice, to be willing to learn, to admit that we do not know or cannot do, that we are not in complete mastery of the course of our destiny, that we do not always perceive the meaning of events. Being ready to admit our insufficiency and approaching Christ to try to see things as He sees them, to seek thus a reconciliation of our mind and heart with His is already fulfilling an existential demand: that we, humanly, are limited, are needy, that we find fulfillment only in communion. To pray, then, belongs to the truth of human nature; it is an impulse that genuinely expresses and fulfills a deep need of human existence. The attitudes of love and of need come together in the basically Christian prayer of thanksgiving. For we turn to Christ as the effective sign that we are loved by God, that His love has touched our humanity and opened it. In relationship with Him we recognize that our human need is not a burden but a joy, the joy of being creatures, the joy of being redeemed and accepted as sons of a loving Father. In Christ, then, we need not make a pre-terise of sufficiency but can freely and lovingly admit our need and turn to him for acceptance, for a perspective which is fuller than our own and can complete and cor-rect it. Because we are creatures in need, yet because He lives to be in loving communion with us, our prayer of need is already thanksgiving. For our deepest existential need is to be accepted and loved as we are and thus brought to transcend ourselves. Communion with God in Christ can do this in a way that no human communion can. It is Christ who most fully recognizes and accepts the human condition as creaturely, as unredeemed, and who exists only to meet us "where we are," and to bring us beyond ourselves to the Father. When we turn to Christ in prayer, it is then already thanksgiving that He is there, that He knows us and loves us as .we are, that we can be in communion with Him. Community Prayer What distinguishes community prayer from individual personal prayer is, obviously, the presence of the com-munity. But this factor can provide us with some ma-terial for reflection. We may start with the premise that each individual has been touched and loved by God; each is uniquely related to God in Christ. Further, each individual has his own gift for the building up of the Body of Christ. For a community to be a community in any profound Christian sense, there must be among the members a sensitivity to the part played by each, an ap-preciation of the unique gift which, each possesses, a willingness to help each other be what he or she is in- tended to be. There must be a sense of belonging to each other, of being for each other, of affecting each other by what each says and does and is. There must be, then, some sense of communion. It is perhaps precisely the phenomenon of the com-munity that has been neglected in our previous methods of community prayer. If we take seriously the presence of Christ in each other, then .we have to admit that each member of the community may be a "word" of Christ to us. Community prayer might well include some oppor-tunity to listen to the word of Christ from within the community. This would presuppose that the members approach community prayer with the mentality of being "present" to each other, as well as to God; it would mean that we make some effort to be conscious and aware of the others with us at prayer, instead of regard-ing them as a source of distraction. The community at prayer adds a new dimension--the presence of Christ in each other--to our way of approaching Him in prayer. One might, in this context, suggest that some of the prayer we address to Christ ought, in fact, to be a prayer to the community. A prayer of loneliness, of weariness, of discouragement, might more practically be met by Christ in the community than by Christ addressed ver-tically. This implies, of course, great openness among the members of the community, sensitivity and receptivity to human needs. The basis for such prayer can be seen in this passage from Origen: Take the case of a man who is of the number of those who have acquired more than sufficient of the needs of life and charitably hears the request of a poor man who petitions God for his wants. It is clear that this man too will accede to the petition of the poor man. For he obeys the will of the Fa-ther who brings together .at the time of prayer the one who prays and the other who can grant the prayer and cannot, because of God's kindly provision, ignore the needs of the former. We must not, therefore, think that when these things hap-pen they happen by chance. For He who has numbered all the hairs on the head of the saints brings together in harmony at the time of prayer both him who can do a service, giving ear to him who is in need of His benevolence, and the one who devoutly prays? God answers men's prayer by bringing the community together so that men may, in Christ, meet the needs presented there. One may, evidently, speak one's need-- or in other words, pray--to Christ through the commu-nity, and it is in this way that He answers one's prayer. To do this in the explicit context of Christian prayer ÷ ÷ ÷ Prayer and Renewal sOrigen, Prayer, xi, 4-5; translated in Origen: Prayer, Exhorta- VOLUME tion to Martyrdom, trans. John J. O'Meara (Westminster: Newman, 1954), pp. 45-6. 537 REVIEW FOR RELI@IOUS 5S8 seems to provide a genuine opportunity of deepening one's faith in the presence of Christ in the community, as well as drawing attention to our responsibility to meet the needs of others--an end toward which prayer to Christ must always lead us. Further, it is our human experience of what it means to be related as persons that is always our prime analo-gate for understanding our relationship with God in Christ. Community prayer may provide us with deep experiences of what it means to be persons in commu-nity, and therefore might greatly aid our understanding of what we mean when we speak of God as Persons, or of the Trinity, Community prayer will be improved, it seems, if we consider it not only as individuals gathering to recite together the same prayer, but as individuals gathering, sensiti~ce to and aware of each other, to say who they are together: that they have common desires, common needs, a common faith. They can profess at once their faith in God and in each other, their trust in God and in each other. They may gather to say to God and to each other that they are sinful, that they need forgiveness from God and from each other. They may listen and respond together to Scripture or to other readings that would bring them together in communion with Christ in heart and mind, and in communion of conviction and purpose with respect to their task in the world. We do not wish to deny the value of structured com-munal forms of prayer such as the Divine Office. These can provide a welcome balance for the more personal, subjective form suggested above. We wish only to sug-gest that on occasion some way of acknowledging and being aware of the presence of each other in prayer may be an important factor in preventing community prayer from becoming formalized, and may be a way of keeping ~t relevant to the life and needs of the community. It becomes, then, a means of growth in faith and in love both for God and for each other, and thus a means of really creating genuine Christian community. If individ-ual prayer seeks communion of heart and mind with Christ or the persons of the Trinity, then community prayer must have as an added aim a communion of heart and mind with the community. It seems obvious that this is somewhat difficult if nothing is done to make one aware of the presence and needs of the community members. Community prayer must aim at making a conscious community in Christ--by sharing in ioy and sorrow, need and suffering with each other, in the presence of Christ. A community becomes a community precisely by acknowledging needs and praying to and for each other. A community, then, comes together to pray, but it is also formed into a genuine and meaningful commu-nity through its sharing in prayer. From a different angle, reflection upon our experience of the community indicates that all members of a reli-gious community do not have the same gift of prayer. Given the premise that each individual has his own gift for the building up of the Body of Christ, it seems evi-dent that some individuals are, by temperament and by gift, more disposed to prayer-.and reflection than others. Perhaps this is an area where the fruits of one's gift for the Body must be seen in a communal context: that if' we have in our community someone with a gift for prayer, we all share in the benefits of his or her reflec-tion, his prayerfulness. This in no way dispenses the other members not so gifted from any effort in this direc-tion. Each person must be concerned about acquiring the dimension of depth in his faith life, must be con-cerned about communion of heart and mind with Christ. Yet if it is our experience that even in religious commu-nities all do not have the same gift, we may profit from trying to understand that experience. All must be sensitive to this gift in their midst, ap-preciate it, and encourage its development. Equally, all can benefit from those who do have a special gift of prayer. But this implies that the one so gifted must be openhearted enough to share his insights and reflections, for this is part of the responsibility connected with the gift of prayer as contributing to the building up of the Body of Christ. Doubtless we need to reflect more deeply upon the matter of responsibility to and for the gift of prayer. No prayer is purely individual. All prayer be-longs to and is at the service of Christian community. Sacramental Prayer Sacramental prayer may now be ,seen as incorporating and epitomizing all the elements present in other forms of prayer. Christ is present to each individual who par-ticipates in sacramental action; each is uniqt~ely re-lated to Him. The community is also present--present there to each other and to God. Christ is present in the community. But He is also present, acting through the symbols used in sacramental action. Here, once again, we need to be conscious not only of ou.r vertical relationship to Him, but also of the other members of the community, aware of them and present to them. We need, further, to be conscious of how Christ is present in sacramental signs: we need to have reflected deeply upon the natural meanings involved in each of the sacramental signs, but also upon their specific Christian meaning, shared and understood by the com-munity. For Christ will act toward us according to the meaning of these signs. Each sign says something to us ÷ Prayer and Renewal~ VOLUME~281 1969, ".~ + ÷ ÷ Sister Eioine Marie REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 540 as individuals loved and touched by God, but also to us as a community. Sacraments are occasions when we gather as a community to celebrate, in specific, signify-ing ways, God's loving us and His acting through Christ in our midst. Ideally, then, sacramental action should include some opportunity for explicit awareness of the community. How this may be done with greatest effectiveness may vary. A communal celebration of penance might include, individual "prayer" to the community, or the commu-nity's praying together to acknowledge its communal blindness, inertia, and negligence, its need for forgive-ness, for Christ's redeeming love. It might include some action or gesture to signify forgiveness of one another as mediating, along with the sacramental sign, the forgive-ness of Christ. The Eucharistic prayer is more easily recognized as communal, since our eating of the one bread and drink-ing of the one chalice say that we already share, in Christ, a communion of life with Him and with each other. The signs of food, and Christ's presence to us through these signs, as well as the presence of the com-munity there, both say that we are creatures who need the sustenance and nourishment of faith and hope and love; we need this nourishment from Christ, but also from one another. This is eminently the sacrament of thanksgiving, as we return to God, in and with Ghrist, all that we have and are. The Eucharist is in a very real sense the highest point of our prayer, both individual and communal; it is the culminating point of our presence to and communion with Christ and the Chris-tian community. It should be an occasion of real cele-bration of our community in Christ. More thought will need to be given to the matter of celebrating, and how our awareness of each other, of our community, can be given recognition in Eucharistic celebration. Conclusion This is obviously only a sketch of some lines along which we might watch for development in the prayer life of religious communities. There is urgent need that religious be convinced of the value of prayer and de-termined to realize its value and meaning in forms suit-able for our times and within the thought patterns of our age. We have undertaken the task of wholesale re-newal of religious life, including its most mysterious dimension, that of prayer. If we fail in this task, some-thing deep and nourishing for our lives and the life of the Church will simply die. Only if we succeed will we find strength, vitality, and meaning to enable us to make our contribution to the Body of Christ in the twentieth century. It is worth our best efforts. EDITED BY THOMAS F. O'MEARA, O.P. Community and Commitment COMMUNITY There* is a new burst of awareness and[desire for com-munity both within and without the Church. The need for community lies deep in the heart of ~tlan. Religious and apostolic life cannot find its source} realization, or sign value simply in the fact that a gr~oup of men or women dress alike and perform certain ritual actions together Human relations are too profound, too deep 1y explore~, too important for this-superfiCial bond. Why do religious live in community? In some way it must be to enable and to enrich a human, Christian, apostolic, and celibate life. Each of these aspects calls for commu-nity and must find it or be frustrated. For-the present generation, isolated and made anxious by advancing technology, community is essential. A! new view of religious life must emphasize its importan.ce and its roots in the New Testament. Community exists to help the person develop as a person, to help the Christian develop !as a Christian. Community must be an adult familial ~ommunity, for this is basic to man. If a man does not create one through marriage, he must find another form, for man cannot live totally alone ~nd live healthily. R~.ligious commu-nity life, like the Christian individual, i~ a place where nature and grace meet. The charisms of the Spirit, the times, the heritage of the order, the psychological needs of persons are an array of aspects highl:ighting the im-portance of community. Community supports the indi-vidual in his apostolate; it gives hir~ direction and encouragement. But community is not jffst the backdrop * This article is excerpted from a paper feceS,' tly prepared by a group of midwestern Dominicans. The title ofI the ful.1 paper is "Towards a Theology of the Dominican Life in the United States Today." The article presented here has been edited b~ Thdmas F. O'Meara, O.P. I + 4- 4, Father Thomas O'Meara, O.P., is a member of Aquinas Institute School of Theology; St. Rose l~riory; Dubuqqe, Iowa 52001¢ " - . ; VOLUME 28;.1959: ¢'.,' 541 T. F. O'Meara, O.P. REVIEW I~OR RE~L[GIOUS ~2 for activity; it is essential to effective Christian life and apostolate. Apostolate and community are correlatives. Neither can be defined without the other. We are in-volved in a communal apostolate and an apostolic com-munity. We do not yet know how the rather recent re-discovery of the importance of community will effect a more profound level of community life; but we do know that for the United States and the American life style this rediscovery is extremely important, perhaps more important (and more advanced) when compared to the life style of Europeans. The previous form of routine, joint prayer (which is not the same as communal prayer), tolerant charity, frustrating or limiting obedience was insufficient. It often led to seeking a "family" outside of the priory rather than bringing friends into our family. The jurid-ical description of community is insufficient, since community is primarily a human and Christian, a psy-chological and socio-theological reality. Law can neither form nor direct true community; it can only give a very few boundaries beyond which community could not exist. From these legal lines to real community is a long road, but it is a road which the Christians could begin to traverse if they would emphasize grace, not law. If the Church is a microcosm of the world, the reli-gious community is a microcosm of the society in which it lives. The religious community should be a kind or type of Christian community, a model for it. By its very existence in communal sharing and dedication to preaching the gospel, the religious community shows it is not the world. But the religious community is in the world. It shares in human communities--in their life and in their structures. By baptism and vows we look to a special fulfillment beyond the merely social community of family and city. This is possible, however, only by listening closely to the insights of the gospel, to the Church, and to the contributions of the secular sciences. Psychology can be seen as a kind of praeparatio evan-gelica for healthy community life, for charity, maturity, honesty, joy, and dedication. We must learn what is the correct size for a community of men or of women, as determined by social and psychological studies; how a community can best be directed; what is the importance of work; whether one community needs a single apostolic goal or whether these can be pluralistic. Neither theology nor canon law have all the information on this; social psychology and management planning must help. We will see below that the community is the source of authority. The superior exemplifies the spirit of the community. He inspires and coordinates the ac-tivities of the community flowing from their life and work. He is not, primarily, a secretary, a bookkeeper, or a control center for daily life. The community should be open because Christian Iove is open; the community is mature and the superior a guide rather than a controller because this reflects the Christian (not the Jewish) idea of God. No closed community is happy. Jesus Christ was not closed in upon himself. Christian community-apostles must not be just intellectually open, but emotionally and psychologically open to change, to newness, to risk. To be such, the religious community must be physically open to the com-munities it borders. Religious communities cannot be fortresses, for these are anachronistic. Rather they must be dynamic centers of the Christian prophetic word en-gaging in conversation and cooperation with the world. Privacy and silence have a purpose, but they are not absolutes; they are ordained to dialogue and mission, and so cannot object to a reasonable openness of a com-munity to those for whom we exist. Just as vatican II showed that the world was vastly complex and different, and emphasized the local church as the New Testament does, so too a new view of reli-gious life will emphasize the local community. This is where religious life will be lived or will die out. The novitiate and a few houses of so-called strict observance cannot be the norm, especially in the United States where such a "norm" would be viewed as hypocritical. The local community will either attract novices to its kind of life or none will come, since young Americans are now attracted to concrete persons and what they are doing, not to ancient saints or romantic descriptions. The local community is all-important, and the province is seen as the coordinating center of creative and respon-sible local communities. VOWS IN C01V[MUNITY The Vows as Commitment to Christian Community and Ecclesial Apostolate The vows are directed towards community member-ship and activity. Since they are acts of persons, they have personal implications such as lasting celibacy, per-sonal mortification and denial, communal sharing, and so forth. But the community dimension can no longer be eclipsed by the personal; it is the community way of life which asks for celibacy; it is a particular level of apostolic efficiency and potential which requests poverty; and obedience is basically not the submission to one man's direction in the details of li[e, but the entrance into a community with its own necessary leadership. Vows are a lasting commitment to service through corn- Community and Commitra~nt VOLUME 28, 1969 munity for the kingdom of God. Obedience is commit-ment to community; poverty exists for service, peace, and equality; chastity is essential to this kind of dedication. Because of the importance of the New Testament record and an individual's commitment, we must have a Biblical theology of commitment-in-vows. We 'must have not only a Biblical theology of the vows, but a sociology and psychology of them as well. The vows are not re-straints but liberating influences. Are the vows the same as every and any commitment to a religious community? Do they have positive sign value today, as the Council de-mands they should? Does their nomenclature get in the way? Perhaps it is possible to see different levels of active commitment following evangelical counsels: these levels would be introductory (novitiate), temporary and termi-nal (auxiliaries), permanent but open to dispensation, and final. We must be wary of stating a theology of vows in terms of any dualism or any triumphalism. We cannot take for granted our identification of virginity with virtue, poverty with righteousness, or the religious life with a higher state. The vows, like the religious life, cannot be absolutes since they are means. How can Americans rediscover, emphasize, and expli-cate the goals towards which the vows tend. If these goals die out or escape achievement, the vows no longer have any real purpose. The keeping of a vow without any purpose or success is not in keeping with Jesus' reli-gious thought. Vows are means to love, to zeal, to open-ness, to adaptation, to maturity, to Christian apostolic success, to service. Vows do not permit us to have no concern for the future of ourselves or our society, to have no interest in others, to withdraw, to escape decisions and responsibilites, persecution and defamation, to es-cape the necessity of worrying about life and livelihood, to ignore the effectiveness of our community and the Roman Catholic Church. The purpose of the vows is to communicate Christ through a personal and communal life in God. 4. 4. 4. T. F. O'Meara, O.P. REV|EW~ FOR RELIGIOUS 544 Chastity A theology of religious chastity avoids every dualism. It never loses sight of the goodness of human emotions and sexuality, the permanent role sexuality plays in a balanced personality. Chastity is not a means of not-getting- involved in the world, of "avoiding near occa-sions of sin." Chastity is not a way of playing safe, nor are sins against chastity the most horrendous of the religious life, adding "malice" to sexual disorder. A re-ligious~ chastity can be a .selfishness of great proportions. Chastity must search seriously for its justification, and each must ask whether he justifies his living of a life which is not creative of human family; he asks this question not just once at perpetual vows but throughout his life. It is not at all clear that Americans today are more involved in sexual immorality than in the past, although they are certainly barraged with the glorification of sexuality. Still, the seriousness of not sharing one's life with another human being, the potential ambiguity of sexual abstinence, and the gift of creating a family should not be set aside easily. Does celibate chastity as a commitment to a community of Christian service have the theology and sign value for today it deserves? How do religious love in a human way? How is sexuality present in a love for the community and the world? Psychology must help to determine the dynamics and limitations of chastity in each individual, and the particular conditions which this or that province or house must take into ac-count. Chastity allows for a certain level of Christian dedica-tion to the apostolate and sanctity. It is academic to ask whether this is better or best, since only the individ-ual with his God-given vocation has a "place" in the sight of God. Chastity allows (it does not insure or cause) dedication: (a) to many persons rather than a few; (b) to areas of work which are dangerous or demanding in an exceptional way; (c) to an intensity of work in quality and quantity. Chastity is connected with the revolution-ary, missionary, and suffering nature of the Christian apostolate insofar as the celibate preacher of the gospel can go where a family cannot. Ghastity and poverty allow a certain economic and social independence, a freedom from political or economic systems which may be perversely harming human life and development. Poverty Poverty is not simply the absence of normal or special consumer goods. Amid growing American affluence, poverty is an evil, and the American mentality is intent upon its elimination. Christian "poverty" can have value in America as a sign of Christian eschatology and as an identification with the downtrodden and persecuted. In the present social and political upheavals within the United States, it has become clear that some religious who "practiced" poverty (sometimes in ludicrous detail) at the same time possessed a mentality which was un-sympathetic to the poor. Poverty must be seen, then, as a sign of the worldly and transcendent kingdom of God, of the "already" and "not yet" of the Christian mission. There are three aspects of poverty within the religious life, aspects which must be constantly tested as to whether they have a contemporary voice and to whether ÷ ÷ ~ommunity and Commitment VOLUME 2~ 1969 T. F. O~Meara, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELlflIOUS they are kept in the right balance. (1) Poverty of the individual and community must be proportionate to the particular apostolate and community. Poverty must smooth the road to effective apostolate and Christian Service. We must not let privileges, traditions, "contacts" little by little lead us away from service to the poor and persecuted. (2) Poverty has sign value: it frees us for work for the kingdom of God which is coming; it pro-claims our faith in divine providence and in the power of Christ to become the center of the evolving world. Our faith in Christ above and within the world is active now and in the future. (3) Poverty frees us for work among persons and proclaims the primacy of the personal, Christian, spiritual over the material. Wealth is power; but poverty affarms faith in another power, a power which is ultimately greater because it influences not mountains or machinery but persons and ideas. Vatican II emphasized the importance of real sign value to poverty, the importance of personal poverty and of corporate poverty. The latter demands real financial sharing on a national and international level as integral to the living of the vow of poverty. The Constitution on the .Church in the Modern World asks that we take up dialogue with the world as it is. With regard to the eco-nomic dimensions, we see that technological society has given us means of great value and importance. Wealth is good, and the assumption---dominant from the origins of man--that poverty and sickness were inevitable and frequent is now questioned by American youth, scien-tists, and polity. The correct direction of this nation's wealth and power would be a greater byproduct of our dedication to poverty than our supercilious contempt of all who possess or study wealth. In short, are we "using" our poverty for people? Poverty not only allows us to be especially dedicated to apostolates, but demands that we employ well time and energy in our areas of work. Poverty can mean em-ploying secretaries, jet travel, electronic media, and so forth in order to reach in a year (or a day) thousands more than Paul or Dominic contacted in a lifetime. On the personal level, poverty can easily be rendered mori-bund by establishing a life where all needs are filled im-mediately within a fully ordered house. Poverty means lack of security but trust in God. Poverty should prepare religious for living in the present era where the models and, concepts of the religious life are being hotly debated and seriously questioned. Poverty and faith are corre-lates; poverty and routine or unchallenged life are con-tradictions. Poverty rejects any defense of the past which turns priories, publications, apostolates, liturgies, and so forth into the displays of a museum. This is espe- cially true in the United States where we have practically no past and where our mentality is future oriented. Very practically, poverty is a commitment to commu-nity life. The American religious wants to know where and who this community is. He takes for granted his right to have some information on how the large amounts sacrificed or earned are being spent. The United States' Church has experienced many cases of poor planning, excessive construction of buildings, un-needed schools and apostolate.s, waste or diffusion of sums of money. The Christian who commits himself to poverty in a community has an obligation to see that that community itself is not sinning against poverty, and clearly superiors must answer not only to God but to the members of the community who freely offer their earnings. The spirituality and life of r~ligious in the area of poverty are not helped but rather frustrated by re-mote, corporate decisions on the expense of money. Can we not expect that a religious who sees money wasted will hesitate to remain within the community or to con-tinue his work and sacrifice? Obedience Thomas Aquinas emphasized the theological impor-tance of God's creation and agents. God acts directly in His world rarely. Similarly, obedience is not just a per-sonal relationship to God, and a superior never fully takes the place of God or Jesus Christ. Obedience is a commitment to God's kingdom revealed to us in Christ as present in a special ecclesial community. Obedience like authority involves community. Americans are raised in the Anglo-Saxon tradition of law. This tradition is often almost in contradiction to certain RoMan and European philosophies of law. The British and American legal mentality looks to a mini-mum of laws and a maximum of obedience; this is allied to equity but does not tend toward dispensation. Clearly the spirit of religious constitutions of the past and the Code of Canon Law stem from another philoso-phy. That is why the Constitution of the United States with 190 years of amendments fills only a few pages, while the laws of the community of "Christian freedom" are numerous. This national difference will influence American reaction to laws, authority, and obedience in the religious life. The purpose of authority is not to rule over the de-tails of the life of children, but to enable their matura-tion and sanctity. Adulthood, participation, and deci-sion- making can and should belong to all the members of a community in a society where political maturity is taken for granted. From the point of view of charisms, Community and Commitment VOLUME 28~ 19~9 54~ T. F. O'.~e~,~'a~ O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 548 the Spirit cannot be relegated to the mind of the supe-rior, nor will educated Christians accept the point of view that the will of the superior is always God's positive (as contrasted with His permissive) will. Education and adulthood render implausible the Neoplatonic idea that the superior informs the inferiors, because he always knows--intellectually or theologically--more than they do. Rather, the superior brings to focus the will of the community when it is holy and reasonable, or solves dilemmas presented by opposing parties. Traditions of democracy, initiative, consensus, and Aquinas' emphasis on nature with grace and secondary causes under God have been obscured by later spiritual theologies. There is a crisis in communities over whether differ-ent points of view exist, or whether bureaucratic con-trol can yield to political maturity. Today's crisis of obedience cannot be solved by more laws, stricter cen-sures, and tighter controls. This will only lead to the sin of forcing schism and apostasy. Mature Christians can-not renounce their own consciences over what seems er-roneous or insignificant. The crisis of obedience shows that a new kind of person is emerging in the Western world. He is quite different from either the Medieval peasant or the European bourgeois. His education, social responsibility, and creative initiative can either be used within the community, or he can be rejected. But he will not choose to live as a non-person, stripped of his own existence and potentiality--for neither common sense nor Christian virtue would suggest that he do so. There is a crisis in the Church today centering in the realization of authority. This is not simply "a crisis of authority." What is at issue is not that authority, even that infallible authority exists, but how it exists. This crisis is of great extent and needs a solutio~frather than a repression. The crisis is stimulated by the ever in-creasing role played by the mass media in Church affairs, by Vatican II's theology of collegiality, and by the transi-tion of the Church from a feudal or immigrant power to a vital stimulus within a pluralistic society. The crisis is particularly acute in the United States due to our lack of roots in the past history of the Church, to the American political mentality, and to the tension arising from past attempts to merge these two. The future should not be allowed to witness a growing division be-tween our standard style of administration on the one hand, and the majority of religious, especially the young, on the other. The New Testament recognizes even within its nor-mative pages a certain pluralism in Church forms. An example of this is found in St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapters Twelve through Fourteen. Different gifts are given to different members of the Church by the same Spirit. Every member of the Church does not have the same function, just as each part of the body does not have the same function. Though these members have different rules, a unity still exists from the members' re-lationship to Christ. There is a diversity in the Church, but it is a diversity which is unified in Christ. All of these gifts are given for the upbuilding of the Church. In this view of the Church given by St. Paul, there is definitely an emphasis on a plurality in Church forms, but a pluralism which is unified in Christ. Yet, the division, isolation, and frustration felt by many religious do exist. Where does it come from? Cen-tral authority often seems to be irrelevant. Why? Perhaps because it offers negative laws post factum rather than leadership before and during the moments of decision. This kind of authority is frustrating to those who have not been consulted and whose circumstances militate against the decision taken; it is irrelevant to many who may with risk choose to prefer real community and effec-tive apostolate to belonging to a long established group. The following three ideas are guidelines by which to measure practical decisions on renewing the concrete realization of government. (1) Charity. Charity is primary. Past constitutions have given the impression that holiness and charity come infallibly from obedience. Experience teaches that this is not true. Love for the community and the in-dividuals in it must have a certain primacy over systems, machinery, and political goals. Love is prior to obedience and is the original cause of obedience. The present crisis will not be solved without a greater emphasis on love for the individual person. (2) Freedom. It is the purpose of neither the vow of obedience nor of government to plan each individual's life and day. There should be an atmosphere freely to be lived in, not a minute horarium to be conformed to. Vatican II's Church in the Modern World begins with man, his dignity, and freedom; religious should not be afraid to follow that example. The purpose of au-thority should be to offer maxrmum help with minimum legislation. (3) Comumunity. Freedom, education, and personal maturity are some of the catalysts for today's crisis in religious community. Until we are accustomed to col-legial decisions at all levels, we will have anguish and potential death in American religious institutes. Three things are involved in the government of a community vis-a-vis the new problems: (1) the struggle for real com-munity life; (2) the necessity to be, without sacrificing heritage or unity, pluralistic; and (3) the desire for the ÷ ÷ ÷ Community and Commitment VOLUME 2BI 1969 549 T. F. O'Meera, REVIEW FOR RELIGZOUS 550 apostolate to correspond to personal needs and exigen-cies of society, and to help form community. It is clear that we do not have all the answers as to how to form this new community life on either the per-sonal or the structural basis. Clearly some things must go and others stay. But we must strive towards what is mentioned immediately above, for they are fundamen-tal to what religious life claims to be. The struggle to-wards this is itself good. Complaints about impending doom and disaster fail in Christian hope. The struggle is evangelical, since the vocation and following that Jesus preached include uncertainty. In the past we created a world where we conquered the future by avoid-ing it, by being static. We must not be afraid of uncer-tainty or risk and even danger in evaluating and living life. Political philospophy tells us that there are two ques-tions in the renewal of political structure: (1) What is your model of person? What kind of people are you deal-ing with? (2) In the light of what is best suited for these persons, who decides and governs? In considering our political structures, have we overlooked the first question? In regard to the second, decision and consul-tation should penetrate into the community as far as they can. This is a principle not only of politics but of a Christian theology of virtue. Today, we do not really have conflict within the de-velopment of representation and pluralism in govern-ment; we have a conflict as to whether pluralism and collegiality should be allowed to exist at all. This con-flict is disastrous, for new forms of realizing authority in religious community can be combated in America only at the price of a Pyrrhic victory, the decline of religious life. How are mature American religious to come to realize that representation and political discussion about the leadership and direction of the order is not evil. The Acts of the Apostles record discussion among the Apostles. For an American, not to question, noi to engage in the realm of political life is to be immature. We must not allow the leaders of men and women religious (who are not on the same theological plane as bishops) to become persons who mix the sacred with the secular like kings of divine right. Some attempt must be made to open more lines of communication, to broaden the base of author-ity, to give the greatest possible representation, to recognize the responsibility of local communities for their lives, to allow for pluralism and even dissent--all within the context of religious obedience to those in of-rice. How this is to be done without weakening authority is a challenging but far from insuperable question. To ~nany [rom other cultures, the entire view may seem bizarre or even dangerous. However, it is a legitimate possibility within ecclesial religious life, and it is the normal and traditional political mentality of Americans. Actually, obedience will grow where love has primacy; zeal will become more intense where consultation (with or without final agreement) has made it feel worthwhile. While commitment to Christian community-apostolate is destroyed by depersonalization and autocracy, it is increased through openness and honesty. Community and Commitment VOLUME 28, 1969 55! ANTHONY D. HECKER, S.J. Attitudes, Unity, and Renewal ÷ ÷ ÷ Anthony Hecker, s.J., writes fa'om Coleran House; 19 Linnaean Street in Cambridge, Massa-chusetts 02138. ' REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS In this age of renewal, both in the Church and in re-ligious orders, I would like to present for your considera-tion my reflections on those factors which could inhibit renewal. I refer to the need of greater communication between the so-called "New Breed" and the consequently so-called "Old Breed." I personally would prefer to ignore all such labels not only because of the divisions which they hint at but also because of the divisive-ness which they foster. I would like to do an in-depth study of the problems which I have observed both in my own order and in other orders with which I have come into some contact. However, because of various and sundry limitations, I must acknowledge that the following is neither a total study nor an in-depth study; rather it is simply my past and present reflections con-cerning these problems, about which 1 have a genuine concern. I present these reflections to you because I think that any attempt toward renewal will become operation-ally successful only insofar as there is unity among the members of the renewing order. At present I think that there is at least some lack of unity and that the source of that lack of unity is in our attitudes toward one another. It could easily be the case that my portrayal of these attitudinal difficulties is at least excessive, at most er-roneous. Nevertheless, by presenting these reflections to you, I hope at least to foster some reflection concerning unity and ways in which it might be improved. First, I would explain that, although I am relatively "young" and am a scholastic, I do not intend to castigate merely the "old" religious. (Indeed, I would hope that nothing that I say is construed, or misconstrued, as castigation of any person or group of persons.) The problems of communication cannot be facilely attributed to any one person or group of persons; we are all re-sponsible to a greater or lesser extent. Second, I would note that the basic problem of communication has its foundation in attitudes--attitudes toward the non-peer groups, especially those attitudes which are founded on implicit, and, hopefully, not recognized, presuppositions concerning the non-peer groups. I also want to state the several presuppositions which will be implicit throughout the rest of this discussion. First, we should not confuse unity with uniformity. For example, the excessive concern with mode of dress (ex-cessive because the concern exceeds that warranted by the subject matter) is more a question of uniformity than unity. External symbols do not foster unity; they can at best point to a unity which may or may not exist. A corollary principle, which I hesitate to state because of the apparent note of castigation contained therein, is that common life does not mean reducing everything to the lowest common denominator. I would willingly and forcefully declare that common life is necessary for unity. When, however, common life is proclaimed as a principle of uniformity, as well as of unity, then not only are the unifying aspects pushed below the horizon but also any further use of common life as a principle of action and decision is viewed by the subject with suspicion and dis-trust, rightly or wrongly. A second presupposition of this discussion is that dif-ferent attitudes or manners of acting should not be so facilely assigned a value parameter. That is, when some-one's attitudes or actions are even radically different from our own, we should not assume that they are wrong; much less should we arbitrarily impute base motives to them. For example, is it not more probable that certain priests and religious prefer not to perform "folk" or "liberal" liturgies because they think that they cannot find God so easily or so fully in such liturgies because of the "distrac-tions" inherent in such liturgies, than it is that their preferences are because they are "old fogies" or "die-hard conservatives"? Conversely, is it not more probable that certain priests and religious prefer to perform "folk" or "liberal" liturgies because they think that they can find God more easily and more fully in such liturgies because those "distractions" actually aid them in lifting themselves up to God, than it is that their preferences are because they are "always seeking new and exciting things"? A preference for uniformity would demand that one or the other view prevail. A preference for unity would allow the recognition that unity is not opposed to diversity. An all-pervasive value orientation would de-mand that one or the other view be declared good or better, and that the other be declared bad or worse. A view that would recognize the worth of a value orienta-tion but would also realize that it is not universally ÷ ÷ ÷ ~/OLLIME 2$, 19~9 A. D. Hecke~;$.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 554~ applicable would allow the recognition that several different, views can prevail simultaneously. There are many ways of approaching God, even within one (Jesuit) general framework. The primary concern of this discussion, then, is to con-sider attitudes of religious toward other religious. I would begin by stating, even categorically, that dogmatism among "liberals" is at least an implicit denial of the very essence of liberalism. A liberal, if he is a true liberal, must accept the conservative on his own--the conserva-tive's- terms; a liberalism that excludes anyone because they have a different viewpoint is, at best, a caricature of liberalism. How then, can liberals castigate conservatives because they are not liberals? Should the true liberal have, and manifest, a desire to proselytize everyone everywhere, to malte everyone liberals whether they want to be or not? To all these questions I must answer, No. Lest my answer be interpreted as a non-liberal attitude toward those "liberals," I would state that my answer is based upon my own reflections concerning what a liberal is. Accordingly, I would ask those "liberals" to help me to understand their view of liberalism and how that view is compatible with their attitudes. On the other hand, I would state, even categorically, that dogmatism among "conservatives" or "traditional-ists" is at least an implicit denial of the very essence of tradition. Dogmatism here leads to fossilization of tradi-tion. Can the true conservative deny that there is any development in our understanding of God and of our relation to Him, indeed that development is inspired by the Spirit? Can the true conservative deny that there are a variety of ways of approaching God, that God can be "all things to all men"? (Would they really limit God in this way?) If they do not allow for the continuous workings o[ the Spirit, are they not left with merely the dead letter of the past? Indeed, is not this continuous and varied working of the Spirit a presupposition of Ignatius in the Spiritual Exercises (Annotations 4, 15, 18), and is it not probable that Ignatius intended these as principles of Christian living as well as principles to be used in the Spiritual Exercises? Can the true conserv-ative demand uniformity of thought--that we all think alike--rather than unity of thought--that we agree on certain common goals and then proceed in our various ways to foster attainment of those goals? Would it be possible for the conservative, and the liberal as well, to accept the distinction between "accepting a view" and "agreeing with a view" (accepting a view as valid despite the fact that it is not a view he can personally agree with)? A second attitude that I would consider is the emo- tional generalizati.on of a response to a particular aspect of another person. This attitude appears to predominate among the younger religious, perhaps only because of my greater contact with them; it might be just as prevalent among older religious. What I mean by this attitudinal problem is that, at least occasionally, a person will ob-serve a limitation in another person (real or imagined) and then proceed to generalize--the person can do noth-ing right. The particular observation becomes generalized into an attack on the person of the person. For example, a student may discover that a particular facultymember has a character fault let us say pride. Rather rapidly the student will become convinced that that person is a poor teacher and/or advisor. I will grant that I have ob-served few religious with this problem, but unfortunately some of these few are quite vociferous. Even were their judgments true, I think it an extreme lapse of charity to commit such character assassination. Unfortunately, also, too many younger religious are not critical enough in evaluating these unsolicited reports. They might hear from a vociferous few that a teacher cannot teach and readily accept it as fact, without even experiencing the teacherl Finally on this problem, too many religious, young and old alike, engage all too frequently in destructive criti-cism. It seems, at times, to be almost a preoccupation, occasionally even descending to a type of "Can you top this?" session. Needless to say, all these manifestations of the same general attitude are destructive of unity, all the more pernicious because it results in a gradual and insidious erosion of unity, unnoticed and unreflected upon. Can we not accept the limitations of each other without bandying them all about? If we must talk about the limitations of another, let us in all charity and honesty talk about them with the person most concerned--the person with the limitation. Let us build one another up in charity rather than tearing one another down, and thus destroying the very fabric of our various orders. The third and final attitudinal area I would concern myself with is that of suspicion and distrust--not al-together unrelated to destructive criticism. What I mean by this is the tendency of too many of us to presume the worst of each other and, accordingly, to impute poor motives. This attitude is, I think, founded on at least two; more fundamental problems: lack of understanding and lack of faith in the good will of others--two problems which closely interact upon each other. Lack of understanding appears to know no boundaries. It is prevalent between younger and older religious, between subjects--regardless of age--and superiors. That ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ A. D. Hecker, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS between subjects and superiors seems to be more heavily influenced by a lack of faith; it will be treated in its proper place. Conversely, the lack of understanding between younger and older religious seems to be prior to, and causative of, the lack of faith. This lack of under-standing is, I think, intimately linked with the problem of unity. Unity is not that sort of thing which can be readily and simply assumed as existing between a group of men or women with common goals; nor can it be fostered and maintained by a total reliance upon sym-bolic acts and customs. Unity is something that has to be worked at in a real way by all the members of a group. Unity demands that all in the group understand one another; and to understand one another requires both work and patience. The urgent, and apparently natural, impulse to be understood seems to force us to give a primacy to this aspect of our interpersonal rela-tions. I wonder if this is not a false assigning of priorities. Could it not be that in order to be understood we must first understand others? Could it not be that in order to express ourselves in a manner that others can under-stand, in order to express ourselves in the thought pat-terns of the others, we must first understand the others? Of course it should also be realized that to simply understand the thoughts or expressions of others does not suffice. This is merely a token or surface understand-ing. To properly understand other persons, at least an attempt must be made to understand the social, emo-tional, psychological, and philosophical tensions and views that influenced those persons during their forma-tive years. For example, do younger religious under-stand, and realize the consequences of, the circumstances in which their elders grew up? (There is the fact that absolutism was not only prevalent in theology but that it also permeated all aspects of life and thought-- Einstein and such thinkers were not public knowledge, and thus not influential on public patterns of thought, until the forties; the social sciences were not influential until the mid-fifties; apologetics was a major concern throughout the entire course of. studies. Now when apologetics is given such an all-pervasive primacy, should it be surprising that the critical faculty 'is highly devel-oped, and that there should be a great concern to preserve and protect all aspects of the Catholic faith--incidentals as well as essentials?) On the other hand, do the older religious understand, and realize the consequences of, the circumstances in which the younger religious grew up? (There is the fact that Einstein's theory was public knowledge, and thus permeated all aspects of life and thought; the social sciences Were in full flowei', and thus the greater concern about freedom and interpersonal relations; Teilhard de Chardin was influential in shaping a new worldview-- readily taught to and accepted, perhaps uncritically, by the younger men.) I do not not mean to imply by all this that the new is better than the old, nor that the old is better than the new. Rather I am attempting to point out the fact that there are in any of the orders today two--at least two--- quite different ways of viewing the world, views that underlie and permeate all aspects of life of the various persons. I reiterate, neither is better, they are just simply different. Accordingly, to understand any thought, view, or opinion of another person, that thought, view, or opinion must be understood in the context of that per-son's way of viewing the world. Of course, there will be the few, with either worldview, who are incapable of understanding the other worldview of the other person; but this does in no way imply that Christian charity is no longer needed. Because we do not understand the other person's point of view, we should not assume that he is wrong, or foolish, or operating with ill will; neither should we ridicule or antagonize him. We should ap-proach those few, then, with the realization that a greater demand may be made upon our charity--they may ridicule or antagonize us but we need not respond in kind--and with a determination that we shall improve our relations with them. These last remarks lead us to a consideration of the lack of faith in the good will of the other person. There seems to be this lack of trust between old and young; but, more importantly, there seems to be some mutual lack of trust between superiors and subjects. Certainly the latter, but I think also the former, implies a limitation in our practical spirituality. What I mean by this is that, while supernatural faith is directed primarily to God, in that very fact it should also be directed toward men. Faith in God includes faith in God's loving kindness and grace-full influence upon men, especially upon men who have committed themselves totally to God. Accordingly, to say that one has faith in God and yet to manifest a radical lack of faith in men totally committed to God involves one, to some extent, in a contradiction. To point out what I have referred to as a limitation in our practical spirituality I would use, by way of ex-ample, our attitude toward what the Jesuits refer to as the "plus-sign." We seem today to disdain the term "plus-sign" and all that it connotes. On those rare occurrences when we do use it we manifest what we think that it means. Too often we apparently mean that we have al-ready judged the other person, thus fostering a negative image of him in ourselves, but that we will give him the ÷ ÷ ÷ Renewal VOLUME 2~ 1969 557 benefit of the doubt and not report him. I submit that the "plus-sign" does not connote this negative attitude but rather one that is quite positive. It is not an act which follows upon judgment but is an act which pre-cedes judgment. It is a humble admission of the fact that too little is known of the other person, especially of his degree of deliberation, to judge him on the basis of a solitary act. It is the suspension of judgment as opposed to rash judgment. I would suggest that this might be what Ignatius was referring to in the Praesupponendum to the Spiritual Exercises. I would also reiterate that it is doubt-ful that Ignatius wrote this to be used solely in the con-text of the Exercises; rather it was intended also as a principle of Christian living. In the light of all this, when we disagree with someone in principle, or concerning policy, should we seek out negative reasons for his position, especially if we do not understand his point of view or frame of reference? When we disagree with superiors in principle, or con-cerning policy, and realize that we cannot effect a change, would it not be more healthy and mature to seek out their reasons for maintaining the present system even while we continue to represent our views? Of course another requirement of our interpersonal relations is patience. Even if superiors were to agree that some changes might be beneficial, time would often be re-quired before they could be effected. Conversely, if changes are effected, how can we be so sure that they are failures after only three or four months of operation, especially if we have had little contact with that area? I would close as I began: emphasizing that these are some of my reflections concerning unity, at least limited, possibly erroneous. It was my intention, and is my hope, that these reflections might be a means of stimulating reflections on the problems of unity and ways in which the present degree of unity might be improved. A. D. Hecker, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 558 EDWARD R. TRUBAC Long-term Financial Planning for Religious Communities Faced* with scarce resources generated by a growing number of apostolates combined with a declining number of vocations, religious communities have increasingly turned to planning in order to allocate these resources in the best way possible. However, present planning has gen-erally been of a short-term nature principally designed to meet the rather immediate needs of the religious com-munity. Many decisions have been made without a clear notion of their long-run financial implications and with-out a careful analysis of alternative proposals. In my talk I would like to begin by discussing some basic principles of planning, then apply these principles to the long-range needs of religious communities, and conclude by tracing some of the financial implications of planning decisions, Basic Principles of Planning In referring to long-range planning, I am not talking about an informal annual get-together in which adminis-trators meet to give their opinions about the course of the future. Neither am I referring to the kind of planning which is initiated because of some kind of crisis, such as a sharp decline in profits for a firm or a sudden increase in instructional expenses for a school. This kind of plan-ning is really not planning at all; in fact, it ilIustrates the costs associated with a lack of planning in which options to act and shape events are restricted as one is forced to react and adapt to a given situation. Long-range planning is a formal, organized process in which a person or group of persons is 'specifically * This is the text of a talk given on February 26, 1969, at the Conference for Religious in Financial Management held at the University of Notre Dame. ÷ ÷ Edward R. Tru-bac is assistant pro-lessor of finance; University of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. VOLUME 2~ 1969 charged with developing a plan of what the organization should look like in five or ten years; the basic purpose of the plan is to mobilize the available resources of the or-ganization in a way that will best achieve its objectives: Firms which have adopted formal plans often seek new ventures through mergers, acquisitions, product line diversifi-cation, or market expansion. They are not satisfied with main-taining the status quo unless they determine, after careful analysis, that this is the best possible course of action. And, in some instances, a company can improve its performance significantly by planning ways to increase the efficiency of cun-ent operations, rather than following the more glamorous but more risky diversification route? To repeat, long-range or strategic planning, to use the more popular term, is essentially concerned with the eval-uation of alternative courses of action (with the stress on the word alternative) in an effort to select the best course of action for the future. And by best course of action, I mean the one that best meets the objectives of the organi-zation. ÷ ÷ ÷ Edward R. Trubac Planning Principles and the Long-Term Needs of Religious Communities This approach is obviously applicable to religious communities as well as to business firms. Like firms, re-ligious communities have in the past few yeais become more actively engaged both in "product line diversifica-tion" and efforts designed to improve the efficiency of current operations. For example, some alternatives that might be grouped within a long-term planning framework for a typical religious community would be: (a) Should the community continue to own and op-erate small hospitals, should only large ones be consid-ered, or should the community relinquish ownership ~ind merely staff hospitals and homes? (b) Is it advisable to continue the two-year college in its present form on the motherhouse campus or should it be discontinued and a house of formation set up near a university campus? (c) Should the community continue in elementary edu-cation, should expansion in secondary schools be consid-ered, or should sisters accept teaching positions in secular institutions? (d) Should a religious community operate only in schools andhospitals, or should many of the members be actively engaged in some of the various types of social work that are open to today's sister? A correct though obviously superficial answer to the REV1EW FOR RELIGIOUS x Harold W. Henry, "Formal Long-range Planning and Corpora-tion Performance," Michigan Business Review, November, 1968, 560 p. above questions would be to do what you think is best. But what is best is again dependent on your objectives. And while you may start with general goals, acceptable guidelines for decision-making must be phrased in con-crete and measurable terms. Here business firms have a decided advantage over non-profit organizations. For while a firm may have as its general objective the opera-tion of a diversified, growing, and profitable worldwide manufacturing business, its specific objective will prob-ably be couched in terms of a specified rate of return on investment; the evidence of the firm's success in meeting this goal can easily be gleaned from its financial report. For the typical religious community, the honor and glory of God and the sanctification of its members would adequately reflect its general objectives, these goals to be specifically achieved through the external works of char-ity of caring for the sick, social work, and the education and training of youth. But while the subobjectives of business firms (for example, a specified rate of return on investment) lend themselves to rather precise measure-ment and, therefore, evaluation, those of religious com-munities do not. First, it is difficult to identify measurable goals in health care, social work, and education, particu-larly Catholic education. And if you cannot specify your objectives in measurable terms, how can you accurately evaluate your operations? This is a problem that most non-profit institutions have in common. Moreover, even if you could express the objectives of each apostolate in meas-urable terms, there would still be the problem of com-paring different units of measurement; in other words, a firm can estimate the expected contribution of each new venture or product in terms of a common denominator-- profit. But how does a religious community, trying to maximize the benefits from its various activities, compare the gains from medical care with the gains from educa-tion when these benefits are expressed in different units of measurement? Finally, religious congregations are faced with the unique problem of structuring a community life that will maximize spiritual development as they al-locate their resources to their various works. Measurable Guidelines for Allocating Resources to the Various Apostolates Because of the difficulties in defining measurable units of output, value judgments will necessarily play a large role in the choice of community works. However, I do think there are some objective guidelines that should not be ignored. First, religious communities are constrained in selecting apostolic works by the specialized nature of their resources, both people and buildings. While people probably constitute the chief constraint, I am familiar ÷ ÷ Financial Planning VOLUME 213, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS with several cases o~ communities who have experienced difficulties in changing the pattern of their activities be-cause of the problems involved in liquidating their in-vestment in buildings and equipment. Now when I use the term constraint in referring to people, I do not mean to use it in a negative sense. If members of a religious community are competent in and motivated toward, for example, the medical care field, then the community should be in that area (one of the first steps in the planning process should be an inventory of talents and attitudes for the various works). Each apostolate can easily be broken down into several sub-apostolates that are in urgent need of competent and highly motivated people. To take the medical care apos-tolate as an example: (a) Religious communities strong in administrative personnel will continue the traditional pattern of ownership and manage-ment. (h) Some will wish to retain ownership and policy making responsibility but will be unwilling to pr.epare religious for administration. They will utilize religious m direct service to patients and in purely spiritual roles and will be obliged to place administration in the hands of seculars. (c) Others may give only direct care while still others, de-pending on their preferences and training, may engage in home nursing, care for the aged or programs for retarded and handicapped people.* Financial Considerations in the Planning Process Financial considerations must also play a roIe in plan-ning the optimal mix of activities. I would like to see religious communities, in formulating their long-term plans, estimate their expected net financial return on in-vestment in each of the apostolates under consideration; that is, they should calculate the financial costs and bene-fits of each apostolate. I am certainly not suggesting that if a community never expects to cover its expenses from a particular activity that it should drop that work. What I am saying is that it would be very useful to identify the apostolates that are expected to operate at financial losses over the next five to ten years. Because if projections show that certain activities will not generate sufficient income to meet expenses, then a decision to subsidize that apos-tolate will have to be made in the light of projected total financial resources, including income on investments, con-tributions, debt financing, surplus generating apostolates or a combination of all these approaches. I should like to digress for a moment and mention that while the expansion or contraction of investments in the various apostolates should not hinge merely on their ex- ~John J. Flanagan, S.J., "What I~ the Catholic Hospital Apos-tolate?" Hospital Progress, March, 1966, pp. 50-1. pected financial returns, there are other investments, those which are not directly involved in attaining the objec-tives of the order, where financial factors should domi-nate. Here I am including not only financial assets such as stocks and bonds but also such assets as the farm owned by many religious congregations. Apart from special con-siderations, such as the community's sensitivity to charges of its being land rich, the farm should be evaluated solely on the basis of its expected financial rate of return. The evaluation technique would basically first involve deter-mining the current investment in the farm in terms of equipment and building values plus the current market value of the land. One would estimate the net dollar re-turn on the farm for the next five or ten years including as your return both estimated net income from the farm and expected appreciation bf land values. An expected rate of return should then be secured by discounting these future dollar returns to the present; this rate would be compared to the return on alternative investment op-portunities. If the expected rate of return on the farm is less than 5%, the existing rate on time deposits, then one would be well advised on that basis to dispose of the farm. Determining the Costs of Apostolates In calculating the expected net financial return from each apostolate, the first step would be to examine cost experiences in the recent past as a basis for future cost projections; data for the past three to five years should be sufficient for this exercise, although it should be stressed that the usefulness of past data for projection purposes is inversely related to the degree of change experienced by the community in the recent past. Securing this infor-mation may well present some problems since the stand-ard chart of accounts used by many religious communi-ties is not structured around the various apostolates. There are usually separate accounts for the generalate, provincialate, and local houses; in addition, expenses are usually categorize.d along input (salaries, travel expenses, supplies, and so forth) and institutional (junior .college on the motherhouse campus) lines rather than focusing on the various outputs (medical care, educational work, social work) of the community. The junior college prob-ably serves more than one apostolate and these educa-tional costs should be allocated to the various works of + the community. In the same vein, the category travel ex- + penses will also include costs associated with a variety of ~" apostolates. In addition, an attempt should be made, where possible, to allocate administrative expenses among .1~i.na~.ia't P!anning the different works of the community. I am not advocat-ing a wholesale overhaul of the accounting systems, of VOLUME aa, ~96~, religious communities. I am merely suggesting a supple- 563 REV]EW FOR RELIGIOUS mental technique designed specifically for long-term plan-ning purposes that will facilitate the cost projections for each of the various apostolates. In ferreting out all costs, the focus should primarily be on the educational, administrative, maintenance, and re-tirement costs associated with placing and sustaining peo-ple in the various apostolates; per capita expenses in each of these categories for each of the apostolates should be derived, summed, and projected into the future; this re-suiting figure should then be multiplied by the estimated number of people in each of the community's activities in order to secure a total estimated cost figure for each apos-tolate. Capital expenditures on building and equipment directly associated with the works of the community (par-ticularly hospitals and colleges as a result of the contin-uing trend toward separate ificorporation and ownership) should ordinarily not be treated as an expense to the com-munity although there are certainly numerous cases where, for example, debt service requirements generated by building programs could not be met by the school or hospital and constituted a severe financial drain on the religious community. One of the great advantages of identifying costs, for ex-ample, the costs of educating sisters, is that it permits one to price and compare alternative approaches to supply-ing the same or approximately the same type of educa-tion. Although I will readily admit that considerations other than financial are extremely important and even overriding in certain situations, still the right kind of fi-nancial information will at least permit a comparison of the costs of sending a person to be educated at the junior college for sisters on the motherhouse campus with the cost of education at a university. The question of which costs less will require careful analysis but the cost differ-ential will probably not be as great as might be deter-mined from examining the accounting records of many religious communities; that is, the cost may not be ap-preciably less to send a person to junior college and may, in fact, be more expensive. One of the hidden costs I am alluding to is the failure of many religious communities to fully account for the contributed services of the mem-bers of the order who are teaching in these colleges. By contributed services, I mean in this case the salary that a member of the religious community could have earned teaching at a university minus her maintenance costs at the motherhouse that are met by the community. For ex-ample, if the subsistence needs of a religious teaching at a junior college for sisters are valued at $2,000 a year while she could have earned $10,000 annually teaching at a university, then the contributed services would total $8,000. A recent survey by one of the graduates of our program in institutional administration indicated that only 50% of the junior colleges surveyed included con-tributed services in their budget as an expense to be met by the community. This omission gives a very distorted picture of the true costs of operating junior colleges. A less hidden but perhaps more controversial cost is that of depreciation. The traditional argument against non-profit institutions depreciating their capital assets is that the needed funds are not generated from operating income as with a business firm, but are commonly ob-tained through fund-raising campaigns. I feel, however, that all costs should be identified, regardless of how they are met. Moreover, communities may find donations to be a very undependable source of funds in the future. As a further point, most hospitals depreciate their capital as-sets. This policy on the part of hospitals of accounting for depreciation has been given added stimulus by third party payments which explicitly recognize depreciation as a reimbursable cost (for example, Medicare). As these third party payments become more widespread in the area of education, accounting for depreciation expenses will correspondingly grow in popularity. Again, it should be emphasized that identifying the education costs of sisters prods administrators to trace out alternative cost patterns. Another possibility, for ex-ample, is the growing practice of affiliate membership in which the person finances her own college education if at all possible, but maintains regular contacts with the con-gregation. This policy, of course, would be the least ex-pensive (it would also meet the problem of people leav-ing the community after being educated but before earning any return for the community); but the issue of the impact on vocations would certainly have to be care-fully explored. A similar analysis should be applied to maintenance, administrative, and retirement costs. Past cost data allo-cated among the various apostolates should be secured as a basis for projecting total costs in the future. The pro-jected cost of current procedures should then be com-pared with cost projections of alternative ways of meeting these needs. Projecting Net Financial Returns from Each of the Apostolates After the cost information has been properly processed, the last step in this exercise would require the projection of net financial returns for each of the various apostolates. These financial returns vary widely, depending on the particular activity. It should come as no surprise that the financial returns to religious communities are particu-larly meager from the Catholic secondary and elementary ÷ ÷ + Finandal Planning VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEI/V FOR RELIGIOUS school apostolates. For religious teaching in colleges and universities and especially for those working in the medi-cal care area where contributed services are considered as reimbursable costs, the financial returns are competitive with those received by lay people with similar qualifica-tions and experience. But the salary and fringe benefits received by the typical sister teaching in a Catholic ele-mentary school (and this is irrespective of whether the school is community or diocesan owned) falls far short of even meeting the expenses incurred by the community in placing the sister in that position. The most detailed in-formation concerning this issue has been derived from Father Ernest Bartell's study on the financing of Catholic education. The data go back to 1963-64, but they serve their illustrative purpose. They show that the per capita contributed services of religious teaching in two dioceses averaged $5425 in one diocese and $3572 in the other.3 Contributed services are specifically defined as the salary that could have been earned by the religious teaching in the public school minus all recorded parish expenditures on behalf of the religious teachers, including cash sal-aries, gifts, and convent maintenance. In addition, a rental charge imputed on the parish investment in con-vent living facilities should be deducted; this charge would be equivalent to the earnings foregone by the parish on a comparable commercial investment. In his study Father Bartell also estimated that if one religious order teaching in one of the dioceses were just to break even and recoup its educational and retirement investment in its members, then it would have had to re-ceive $1057 yearly from each of its teachers over an aver-age working life of 40 years, even assuming that these payments could be invested at 5% during the lifetime of the religious teacher.4 Since the members of this order annually remitted, after current expenses, only $360 each back to the motherhouse, the $700 difference might be looked upon as a subsidy paid by the religious commu-nity to the diocese. Now, I am not going to strongly argue for or against this particular subsidy although I do believe that alter-native ways of reducing it should be carefully examined. One way might be to negotiate with diocesan authorities for salary increases. Another possible approach might be state aid where the contributed services of the sister would perhaps be recognized as a reimbursable cost, as in the medical care field. Or the community might simply 8 Ernest J. Bartell, C.S.C., "Efficiency, Equity and the Economics of Catholic Schools," Catholic Education Today and Tomorrow: Proceedings of the Washington Symposium on Catholic Education, 1968, pp. 12-3. *Ibid., p. decide that its estimated total financial resources will be sufficient to subsidize this apostolate. Conclusion In conclusion, I would like to see a statement along the following hypothetical lines included in the formal plan of each religious community. In deciding on the op-timum amount of resources to be devoted to apostolate A, B, C, and D, we have considered alternative ways of meeting the expenses associated with each activity and have chosen the best alternative for each. Next, in esti-mating the net financial benefits [or each of the aposto-lates over the next five to ten years, we project that activ-ity A will run a large deficit. But despite this expected deficit, we wish to keep our commitment to this aposto-late and estimate that apostolates B, C, and D will gener-ate a surplus of a sufficient size which when combined with income on investments and expected donations will meet the deficit in A. I strongly feel that this type of approach will add a more realistic dimension to community planning. Finandal Planning VOLUME 28, 1969 567 LOUIS TOMAINO Religious Community and the Johari W ndow ÷ ÷ Louis Tomaino is the associate di-rector of Worden School of Social Service; Our Lady of the Lake Col-lege; San Antonio, Texas 78207. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 568 The building of effective human community is gen-erally regarded as one of the most critical issues facing religious orders now and in the near future. Such community spirit is essentially a group phenomenon and it may be that certain findings in group dynamics are very relevant to religious communities. In this paper we are concerned mainly with communities of women. In evaluating the kinds of relationships present in human community, a conceptual model designed by Joe Luft and Harry Ingham for use in the National Train-ing Laboratories seems particularly helpful. It is called the Johari Window.1 This model, although not prepared specifically for religious, states that the sister by her actions and words in the community, projects a kind of "window" of herself which is viewed by others. Other members of the community likewise project similar windows and the sum total of these projections is a powerful dynamic which fashions group relationships in that community. The Johari Window represents four kinds of informa-tion which governs the flow of relationships among community members involved. This includes: A. Things the sister knows about herself and the community and about her feelings about others. B. Things the sister does not know about herself and the community and about her relationships with others. C. Things others in the community know about the sister and the community. D. Things others do not know about sister and the community and about the relationships therein. By "things" we mean sisters' thoughts, impulses, desires, fears, fantasies, prejudices, hopes, dreams and goals. Thus, sister's Johari might look like this: a Joseph Luft, "Johari's Window," Human Relations Training News, v. 5 (1961), p. 6. Things known by others Things unknown by others Things known by sister THE ARENA (open area of the re-lationship) THE FACADE (are~ of hidden de-fenses) Things unknown by sister THE BLIND SPOT (realities not recog-nized) THE UNKNOWN (unexplored reali-ties) 1. The Arena--This is that part of the relationship which is open: ". the cards are on the table." This refers to that part of sister that is completely honest because she faces community issues in the open. When group issues or problems are known and faced by all members openly, we say that these things are in the arena. 2. The Blind Spot This area comprises those thoughts, feelings, and so forth which sister has, but of which she is not aware. However, others in the com-munity do see these things in her because her actions and words make them visible. For example, the sister with definite authoritarian leanings may not recognize this tendency in her interactions with others, but others see itl 3. The Facade--This area consists of feelings, moti-vations, and so forth which sister has, but keeps hidden for whatever reason, oftentimes because she may con-sider their revelation as inappropriate. Therefore, while she knows these things about herself, other community members are not able to perceive them. 4. The Unknown--This includes those aspects of sister's group relations which are unexplored, latent, unconscious, and simply not known. The goal in building community is to make the Arena as large as possible so that conditions for com-munication are improved through openness, free inter-change and productive action. Everything we have said so far about sister can truly be said about community. Realistically, the obstacles to developing real com-munity cannot be dealt with until they are known. These hurdles cannot even be accurately identified until sister and the community develop an open arena where issues can be placed. Therefore, how does one go about establishing a large arena? Let's consider two processes termed exposure and feedback and how they may be utilized to alter sister's Johari. If she really opens up with other sisters, if she + lohari Win¢lo~ is not too insecure to discuss her own doubts and questions, sister will be revealing something of her-self. This is exposure. She will humanize herself by demonstrating that she too is subject to many of the hazards faced by others. Whitaker2 refers to four kinds of openness. Verbal openness, or the process of using direct words to express to another exactly what we mean. ,4ffective openness or the sharing with others our personal experience of boredom, depression, anger, warmth, fantasy, and physical contact. Physiologic open-ness as shown through expressing a blush, hunger, or a headache. No purpose openness is the occasional idle hour, the no-point-in-it encounter, where people are "just there" with no visible goals in mind. To do this comfortably requires real open-endedness. In performing these kinds of things the sister shows part of herself and neutralizes some of her facade. The horizontal line of the Johari is moved downward, thereby enlarging the arena, eliminating some facade and mak-ing the unknown area smaller. Feedback means simply a way of securing some knowl-edge about ourselves as individuals and as community members. It is indispensable to establishing lines of communication and to changing ourselves. This idea urges that the sister create opportunities whereby others may give her feedback on herself. This feedback might tell her things about herself which she did not previously know and thereby elimi-nate some blind spot. The perpendicular line of the Johari" is moved laterally which makes the arena larger, the blind spot smaller, and the unknown is further diminished. If the Sister desires and secures both feedback and exposure, her Johari would look like this: Feedback REVIEW'FOR RELIGIOUS ~ Carl Whitaker, M.D., "Open Communication from the Psycho. therapist," Existential Psychiatry, Spring, 1966, pp. 55-8. The large arena suggests that something is really happening in the life of this sister. Blind spots (I didn't realize you thought I didn't like you) are clarified. The unknown is decreased (I'm glad we both know how we feel on this point), and energies previously used to maintain facades are now diverted to more constructive purposes. The possibilities for communica-tion and change are vastly enhanced with things now put into the arena where they can be managed. We are suggesting, in effect, that those religious groups characterized by large arenas have created conditions favorable to building effective community. The sum of individual Johari's in the group tends to promote a general or average Johari for the whole community. The larger the arena, the greater the chance for ef-fective community. The question might indeed he raised: Of what value to community life are blind spots, facades, or unknowns? Some other, and extreme, windows sometimes seen in both individuals and communities are as follows: The large unknown tells that this sister desires neither feedback nor exposure. She is strictly official and operates by "the rule." Other sis-ters never get to know her. In this situation the sister is willing to expose, hence the small facade. She tolerates no feedback from others in the community and thereby does not know what others think of her. This sister constantly seeks feed-back from others but is not willing to put herself "on the line" with others. Hence the large facade. Too much facade breeds conditions for mistrust. Needless to say, the climates generated by such win-dows are not conducive to developing the kinds of + atmospheres associated with productive community life. + ÷ Some Findings about Sisters Jay Hall and Martha Williams developed a Personnel Relations Survey~ inventory of 60 items which, when s Jay Hall and Martha Williams, Personnel Relatio~ Survey, ~ohari Window VOLUME 28, 1969 571 taken by individuals, projects for them a personal Johari Window profile. Group profiles can also be averaged out on this test. In the past year this writer has administered the Johari Test to approximately 600 sisters from various congregations as part of Group Dynamics Workshops. Using a total sample of 500 sisters we are able to secure interesting data on the kinds of windows projected by sisters. Hall and Williams constructed their questionnaire in such a way that it yields a Johari for the respondent relative to his subordinates, to his colleagues, and to his superiors. It also illustrates an "average" Johari for each respondent. The generalizations about sisters which can be made from the 500 taking the test are these: 1. Sisters tend to be slightly more open than other groups tested in workshop (ex-school teachers, social workers, policemen). Given the goals and values of religious group life, however, the sisters do not appear to be significantly more open than other less cohesive groups. 2. Sisters tend to be less open with their superiors than with subordinates or colleagues. This may be a product more of unapproachable superiors than of reti-cent sisters. Sisters revealed greater facade with su-periors than with the other two groups. 3. Arenas were larger with colleagues than with the other two groups. 4. Sisters seem to be more concerned with feedback than with exposure which seems to be typical of most groups. Out of a possible high score of 50 the sisters tallied an average score of 35 for feedback and 29 for exposure. In summary the general relationship tendencies of the 500 sisters appeared as shown on following page. Looking at the type of window projected by sisters suggests information which may be helpful in develop-ing greater openness among sisters, hence more effective community. The survey shows that sisters tend to be less open with superiors than with the two other groups. How can openness be achieved in this area? Many modern theo-logians stress the fact that religious obedience can be thought of as a shared responsibility. The Holy Spirit speaks through the entire community and not only through the superior. It seems, therefore, the re-sponsibility of each individual sister to contribute to REVIEW FOR RELI$10U$ unpublished training inventory, Southwest Center for Law and the 572 Behavioral Sciences, University of Texas at Austin, 1965. E u r e 5 10 15 20 '25 30 35 45 50 5 Feedback ) 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 community development by sharing her ideas, sugges-tions, and other Johari "things" with others. If the spirit works through each person, how can the commu-nity know the will of God if each is not willing to share? In making decisions which affect the community each sister assumes a great responsibility. It has been found that decisions reached via consensus tend to be more accurate than individual or minority decisions. Consensual thinking in the community can be gained through open discussion, sharing, and listening on the part of each community member. Although arriving at such decisions in community meetings may be time consuming, their very importance suggests that the group might well afford the time involved. Creating an atmos-phere of openness requires conscious work over months or even years. Thus, we seem to be saying that human community can be nurtured by development of a large arena through the conscious use of both openness and feed-back. The documents of Vatican II, especially the Church in the Modern World, lend eloquent support to this idea as seen in the following statements: h¯f eT wheh epnr itmheit mivue lCtithuudrec hof. pbreohveivdeerds ,w aenr ee xoaf monpele h oefa rct oamndm ounneity mind, and found nourishment in the teaching of the gospel and in the sacred liturgy, especially the Eucharist. Let such a life continue in prayerfulness and a sharing of the same spirit. As Christ's members living fraternally together, let + ÷ lohari Window VOLUME 28, 1969 573 them excel one another in showing respect and let each carry the other's burdens. For thanks to God's love poured into hearts by the Holy Spirit, a religious community is a true fam-ily gathered together in the Lord's name and rejoicing in His presence . In fact, brotherly unity shows that Christ has come; and from it results great apostolic influence (Decree on the Appropriate Renewal o[ the Religious Li[e, n. 15). Thus it is evident to everyone that all the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity. By this holi-ness a more human way of life is promoted even in this earthly society (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, n. 40, par. 3). The People of God and the human race in whose midst it lives render service to each other. Thus the mission of the Church will show its religious, and by that very fact, its su-premely human character (The Church in the Modern World, n. 11). Let .chapters and councils faithfully acquit themselves of the govermng role given to them; each should express in its own way the fact that all members of the community have a share in the welfare of the whole community and a responsibility for it (Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life, n. 14). Christ arouses not only a desire for the age to come, but by that very fact, He animates, purifies and strengthens those noble longings too by which the human family strives to make its life more human (The Church in the Modern World, n. 38, par. 3). Through her individual members and her whole commu-nity, the Church believes she can contribute greatly toward making the family of man and its history, more human (The Church in Modern World, n. 40, par. 5). ÷ ÷ Louis Tomaino REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 574 JOSEPH F. ROCCASALVO, S.J. The Presence of Christ in Christian Community The presence of Christ in the Christian community is a fascinating topic, but one that is not easy to treat in a free and familiar style. This is so, because we face a difficult and important question: how can we adequately recognize this presence in our experience. In reading any answer, no matter how well formulated, we must avoid the mistake of expecting too much. The bodily Christ is hidden from our view. Unlike the Apostles who walked with Him in Jerusalem or stood close by when He preached from the waters of Galilee, His visible counte-nance cannot now be seen, touched, or handled. It is not that we feel He hides Himself capriciously; yet there are times when we are overwhelmed by our desire to see Him, without resorting to any writer's conception or artist's portrait. We are tempted to cry out: "Christ, come forthI Let Your loyal followers look upon You. Draw the screen that conceals Your presence from our hu-man eyes." But despite our pleas there is no physical ap-pearance, and we would not dare to hope for one. In addressing myself to the preceding difficulty, I shall formulate my answer through an indirect use of con-cepts. By this I mean that such concepts will try to illumine for the reader the experience they point to, without intending to adequate it entirely. Since we are dealing with the most personal dimension of Christianity, our faith or commitment to a Person, its ultimate signifi-cance must lie beyond the frontier of language in the do-main of mystery. Yet granting this radical incommuni-cability in the final analysis, one may use concepts as long as it is remembered that they are open to the term towards which they aspire. The reader, then, must be like one who contemplates an horizon. Beyond the outline of words he seeks perspectives which he can barely discern but which draw him precisely because of the mystery he + Joseph A. Roc-casalvo, s.J., is a member of Wood-stock College in Woodstock, Mary-land 21163. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Roccasa~o, $.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS senses in them. The formulation is of value, not only for what it says, but also for what it may suggest. As a point of departure for this analysis, we must start with our experience. In assigning content to this word we take. it to mean the whole range o~ the self's active relationship with the other, or the entire range of reality as disclosed to me and to which I respond. But this is my experience: it is the real as disclosed to one who is a Christian, committed to the Church and the faith of the Church. Since faith is part of my experience, part of the real as disclosed to me, it must necessarily be a Christian experience, including all that the life of faith includes. Here it must be recalled that my faith is first and foremost a commitment to a Person who has invited me to share a life in which He Himself will be my ful-fillment. In other words, my faith is a total response of mind and heart to Christ who has entered my world and lived His li~e in our midst. What, then, is the purpose of a Christian who reflects upon his experience to which his faith is interior? Since my personal relationship with Christ is a lived conviction, an intimate part of the reality that discloses itself to me, I shall try in my reflection to spell out the implications of this total commitment. I undertake this task because I am compelled by my freedom to take a personal stand towards my life and to be fully responsible for that stand. I must use the reasoned reflection of the philo-sophical method to avoid doing this naively. In brief, I shall try to discern by analysis how my personal commit-ment to Christ makes Him present to me, not in terms of revelation or the magisterium of the Church, but as dis-closed in my lived experience. This reflection, then, will help make me a more responsible and responsive Chris-tian. As I have indicated, the faith which is interior to my lived experience is fundamentally a personal commit-ment of mind and heart to the Person of Clu-ist. He has spoken to me in time, using words which He has in-tended for all men. Included within these words is the promise of continued presence, in spite of visible ab-sence: "Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am in the midst"; or, "If anyone will love me. I will mani-fest myself to him." Still again He tells us: "I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world." While I cannot expect that His presence will be manifest by some physical appearance, I may rightly expect, through trust in His personal promise, some kind of experimental awareness of His presence in and through the gathered Christian community. Our inquiry can be placed in the form of a thesis statement: whether or not there is a special presence of Christ, experienced within the Chris- tian community. If there is, how can it be described phenomenologically, and what are the requisites for this partictalar theophany? Our question can be restated more dynamically: when I experience my witness to this Person in communion with other Christians, how does He "draw nigh"? Is His presence a diffused, unthematized one, con-comitant with the consciousness of the Christian com-munity; and if this is so, how may it be thematized upon reflection? This analysis, of course, does not necessarily exclude His coming-to-presence in other ways. Before we can discover what is the special character of Christ's presence in the witnessing Christian community, we must first analyse the meaning of this rather elusive word. ~Nhat does it mean to have someone or something present? The dictionary tells us. that the word is used in at least two distinct senses: first, it can mean physical presence, namely, that which is or stands before one, in view or at hand; that which is spatially located in this place and not elsewhere. Second, the word may have a temporal significance, referring to contemporaneous pres-ence, or that which is not past or future, but is operative in the time that is now. It is precisely in these two senses of physical and contemporaneous presence that phe-nomenologists like Luijpen have described man's terres-trial life as an intentional existence in and towards the world through knowledge and love. Through knowledge the world is physically and con-temporaneously present to my consciousness as I am to it, for to know is simply to exist as present with the world. Therefore, it is through this co-presence of knowledge that the world begins to disclose itself and be for a man. ~,Vithin this disclosure the meaning of the world refers itself to other human presences, so that as I live I realize that the world presents itself, not merely for me, but for the other also. The world is present to us both, one we mutually encounter. My presence in the world is emi-nently co-presence. Gradually I begin to realize that the presence to me of persons is radically different from things. While the latter are unaware of me, in fact, are indifferent to my stature as a man, my presential awareness of persons tells me that they may take my presence uniquely into account, re-sponding warmly to my whole world of needs, concerns, and achievements. I have given the other access to myself in a way that is beyond the power of things. Of course, the responsiveness of the other to me is subject to degrees of encounter. For instance, I can meet someone with cordiality, shake hands with him, and sit down to dinner and conversation. On the other hand, I can speak to the same person on the telephone, or merely notice him on the opposite side of the street without speaking to him at The Pr,~ence o~ Christ 4, ÷ Joseph F. l~occo~a~vo, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS all. Our mutual presence to one another can remain on a distant, functional level, or it can open itself to more pro-found degrees of responsiveness. Through love my reply to the other's presence is a reply to his unique personhood. He has become for me a cen-ter of new meaning, so that whenever he comes within the range of my presence, I experience an appeal to con-sent to his, to accept it, to support and share it. He now becomes a presence which I cherish, someone who stands lovingly before me when he is visibly in view. Even when he is physically absent, his unique subjectivity grows into an atmosphere which encompasses me and abides, despite the most engrossing tasks. This is what is meant by being-loved. The other's loving presence makes my personal life be more fully and by his affection, aids and favors it. I no longer face the future as an isolated self-presence, and this alone is perhaps the most profound witness of love's contemporaneity: it has created a "we" that brings plenitude and happiness. Having seen from the preceding analysis how the per-son is present, to me through knowledge and love, we can now pass on to the next step in our analysis of Christ's communal presence. Since the Christian community is fundamentally made up of persons who confess a com-mitment to this Person as interior to their, experience, for the sake of ordered procedure we shall first describe the growth of the individual person's unique response to Christ, and then inquire what role the community played in its development. Someone may object, however, that description of such an affective relationship with Him is difficult, if not impossible, because as subject of my love, He does not come within the scope of the senses. This objection would be valid, were His visible presence abso-lutely necessary to sustain such a relationship. But as we shall see, bodily absence does not a priori exclude a personal confrontation with Him. Since "He was made in all things like unto man, sin alone excepted," or, in other words since He is wholly man, my loving commit-ment to Him will follow an interpersonal pattern. He will not let me doubt His intimate friendship with me, nor will He let me think that He is far removed to another sphere or order of creation. We are both persons, and to ascertain the degrees of encounter with one another is to see applied the formulations derived, from the phe-nomenology of love. Let us look back, for a moment, and see how presential knowledge of Him blossomed into the presence of love. As a Christian who steps back and reflects upon the history of his love for Christ, I discover that initially my contact with Him was a certain mild acquaintance, mostly derived through insertion in the world of other Christians. Through dialogue this man was seen as a source and center of activity, a Person of boundless understanding, tender heart, and constancy in action. There was a certain generous and uplifting quality about Him, which made Him both admirable and attractive. The personal dynamism of this man was present to me as something known, though somehow memorable. He was contemporaneously present to my life via the intentional-ity of knowledge. Gradually the knowledge of this man becomes in-teriorized and the remoteness of history vanishes. He is no longer a figure of the past, nor His life a fact of some past history, preserved through a lasting record. His words have a vitality which make them come alive for me, while those of other men are dead, or living only in books and monuments left behind. This man's words are timeless, and as they have beckoned to all men of all ages, they beckon to me now and call for my response: "I am the way and the truth and the light"; and again, "Come to me all you who are burdened and I will refresh you." The sheer radiance of.this man becomes indispensable in my eyes and wakens me to a new life. Admittedly His presence is not a bodily one, but in some ineffable way, His spirit is operative and quickens me now, so that He is contemporaneous with my life. His appeal to come and follow Him, to accept, support, and share His subjec-tivity is one to which I utter an uncompromising yes. I commit myself to this Person, adopt His name, and set Him up for my ideal. He is now not merely one whom I respect at a distance, but one for whom I care. I plan my destiny not alone, but with Him, for He is more to me than some unblemished truth or way of enlightenment. My whole being is seized by the desire to let Him be as He declared Himself: my very God. He is now the center of my experience, my faith, and what formerly existed as an object known in the knower, is now replaced by one who is cherished as a beloved is in a most intimate friend. This sense of togetherness between Christ and myself does not involve His bodily presence, to be sure. But it is not absolutely necessary that there be such a nearness to sustain our love. In order for two people to continue loving one another, it is not requisite that each be visibly on hand for the other. In fact, in the separation of two people in love, their affective response is still a con-temporaneous experience of a lasting bond. Their mu-tual love, despite distance, remains as a tonality, as an abiding atmosphere that permeates each other no matter what the task. How often have we heard it said: "I do not forget you; you are always in my thoughts." We do not reflect on the deep reality that lies beneath these words. We do not understand, or rather, realize, that when two ÷ ÷ The Presence Christ VOLUME 28, 1969 ,579 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Roccasalvo, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 580 persons are united in love, they do not need to lie visibly side by side like two bodies. They are already in each other. This is the principle of all love union, and in particular, of the intimate friendship which is that union's highest form. So it is with myself and Christ to whom I have committed my life. Indeed I look forward hopefully (as anyone who has loved) to the time when we may be reunited in a face to face encounter. But for the extent of my waking life, this Person shall remain an abiding presence for me, operative within the center of my experience. At this point in our analysis, someone might offer the following conscientious objection: how was it possible to have achieved such a loving relationship with Christ, let alone sustain His contemporaneous presence, when one never had the occasion to confront Him in person? Is it not necessary to "ground," in some way, my power to respond? It is here that one must analyse the delicate role of the Christian community in aiding the growth of my personal commitment to Christ. Since I have discovered Him as the personal center of my life, He has also been disclosed as that center to which the common-unity of Christians offer their affirmation of love. Therefore, my commitment to this Person is not an insulated one. In fact, His presence as a presence-to-be. responded to in love would not have been possible if, anterior to my coming, there had not been a community that already celebrated their loving relationship to Him. This community was a "formative milieu," into which I was inserted and which allowed for this growth and re-sponsiveness in love. Therefore, just as I can only grasp myself as a person through the communal presence of other persons who appeal to me for a unique reply, so also I can only grow in a loving, presential awareness of Him insofar as He is disclosed in and through the Christian community. We will better see the roIe of the community as the place of His presence by seeking to un-derstand what transpires within its interior. In the community of Christians, the Person of Christ is the link which binds us, one to the other. This is so, because He is the point of agreement

Issue 41.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1982. ; The Jesuit's Fourth Vow The Post-Charismatic The Changing Role of Brothers Volume 41 Number 2 March/April, 1982 Rev~t-:w Eor REI.~GIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:.~601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW For RELIGIOU,':, is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus. St. Louis, MO. © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOIJS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rt:vlt:w v'or Rt:LWaot~s: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor March/April, 1982 Volume 41 Number 2 Manuscripls, books for review and correspondence wilh Ihe editor should be sent to Rl.:VlEW E(m Rl-:i.l(;Iou.~; Rnom 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. I.ouis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl to Joseph F. Gallen. S.J.; Jesuit Communily; St. Joseph's University; (Sity Avenue al 541h St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~-:v~-:w ~-ox R~-:LI(;~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms Internationah 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Principles of Discernment Robert F. Morneau The last article of Bishop Morneau to appear in these pages was "'Dives in Misericordia: Themes and Theses," which appeared in the September issue. Bishop Morneau may be addressed care of the Ministry to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. The journey of life is filled with many choices, the consequences of which can be far-reaching. But as we enter into the decision-making process we are not necessar-ily alone. Friends and counselors frequently give helpful advice. Also we have the advantage of both personal and collective experience from which we can extract patterns and principles that provide guidance and wisdom. This essay spells out ten such principles that can help us discern God'svoice and respond to the Lord's call with generosity and courage. A basic belief underlies this endeavor: growth is much more likely to happen when we critically reflect upon our experience and watch for reoccurring patterns than when we simply move from one spontaneous experience to another without~explicitly dealing with any of them. Reflection, done in prayer and with serious ii~tent, provides insight and energy for spiritual development. Growth in the Lord is greatly impeded when reflection and articula-tion are absent. A three-fold method will be used: l) the articulation of ten principles of discernment; 2) a series of quotations from various authors who reflect some dimension of the basic principle; 3) a tripartite commentary which includes a reference to Scripture, an image illustrating the principle and an example from literature providing a case study of our theme. Discernment is a gift to be exercised; principles are abstractions offering mean-ing. Both are significant for human and spiritual growth. This essay presents the principles; the reader brings the gift and the experience. The hope is that the roads intersect rather than run parallel. 1. Discernment is a prayerful process by which ~xperiences are interpreted in faith. 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 By discernment of spirits is meant the process by which we examine, in the light of faith and in the connaturality of love, the nature of the spiritual states we experience in ourselves and in others. The purpose of such examination is to decide, as far as possible, which of the movements we experience lead to the Lord and to a more perfect service of him and our brothers, and which deflect us from this goal.~ Basically, as I see it, Discernment may be defined as the meeting point of prayer and action. That is, discernment is the art of recognizing what God is asking of us--what he would like us to do with our lives, how he wishes us to respond to the concrete life-situations which we encounter in following our vocation? The Christian who reflects on his own experience and on that of the community, who seeks to discern in these the divine voice, and who wants to respond to it by redirecting his life, is--theologically speaking--engaged in prayer.3 "Then he (Jesus) bent down and wrote on the ground again.TM The adulterous woman stood before him; the scribes and pharisees made their accusation; the people observed with keen curiosity. We do not know exactly what happened in the mind and heart of Jesus as he leaned forward and wrote in the sand with his finger. We do know that this immediate experience needed an interpretation. Jesus was a prayerful person; his bending forward in silence may well have been a deep moment of communion with the Father. The Gospel records the Lord's response to the situation: the accusers could silently withdraw, the accused could depart without condemnation. This is but one example of Jesus' ministry. Many other times he also turned to the Father for guidance: the prayer on the mountain before choosing the disciples, the garden prayer before his passion and death, the prayer in the desert when tempted to infidelity. The n~cessity for discernment is the experience at a crossroads; the standard for discernment is whether or not the decision leads to God and more complete service; the act of discernment requires a posture of contemplative faith. The combine used in harvesting and threshing grain has given tremendous help to the farmer. It separates the grain from the straw, retaining the former for winter feeding and discharging the latter in neat rows. The wheat and the chaff, the good and the evil, the true and the false, the beautiful and the ugly--throughout history the human spirit has been challenged to distinguish one from the other. This is no simple process. The grey areas are vast, time is often needed and not available, the multiplicity of experiences tends to clog up the task. Even with these obstacles, the spiritual combine of a discerning heart must perform its duty as well as it can. Grounded in prayer and nourished with learning, the spirits of good and evil can ~Discernment of Spirits, introd, by Edward Malatesta (Collegeville, M N: The Liturgical Press, 1970), p. 9. 2Thomas H. Green, S.J., Darkness in the Marketplace (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Mafia Press, 1982), p. 69. 3Gregory Baum, Man Becoming INew York: Herder and Herder, 1970), p. 256. *See Jn 8:8. Principles of Discernment be sorted out and properly responded to. Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory is a story about spiritual discern-ment, its successes and its failures. The "whiskey priest" must constantly make decisions concerning his person and his ministry as he is confronted with the Mexican religious persecution. The failures of discernment may well be grounded in the reflection: "a prayer demanded an act and he had no intention of acting." His success would demand courage and sanctity; the vision is given but not its reality: He felt only an immense disappointment because he had to go to God empty-handed, with nothing done at all. It seemed to him at that moment that it would have been quite easy to have been a saint. It would only have needed a little self-restraint and a little courage. He felt like someone who has missed happiness'by seconds at an appointed place. He knew now that at the end there was only one thing that counted--to be a saint) Discernment is that prayerful process allowing each individual and the larger community to move in the direction of sanctity. 2. Discernment must deal with many voices seeking to capture our minds, hearts and energies. Since the mysterious voice of the Spirit is not the only voice we hear but comes to us accompanied by the tumultuous sounds of our own conflicting impulses and the clamorings of the entire creation, it is essential for us to be able to discern the presence of the Spirit in order to choose to say "yes" to him.6 So the soul that waits in silence must learn to disentangle the voice of God from the net of other voices--the ghostly whisperings of the subconscious self, the luring voices of the world, the hindering voices of misguided friendship, the clamor of personal ambition and vanity, the murmur of self-will, the song of unbridled imagination, the thrilling note of religious romance. To learn to keep one's ear true to so subtle a labyrinth of spiritual sound is indeed at once a great adventure and a liberal education. One hour of such listening may give us a deeper insight into the mysteries of human nature, and surer instinct for divine values, than a year's hard study or external intercourse with men.7 While his mind had been pursuing its intangible phantoms, and turning in irresolution from such pursuit, he had heard about him the constant voices of his father and of his masters, urging him to be a gentleman above all things and urging him to be a good Catholic above all things. These voices had 9ow come to hollow sounding in his ears. When the gymnasium had been opened he had heard another voice urging him to be strong and manly and healthy and when the movement towards national revival had begun to be felt in the college, yet another voice had bidden him to be true to his country and help to raise up her language and tradition. in the profane world, as he foresaw, a worldly voice would bid him raise up his father's fallen state by his labors and, meanwhile, the voice of his school comrades urged him to be a decent fellow, to shield others from blame or to beg them off and to do his best to get free days for the school. And it was the din of all these hollow sounding voices that made him halt irresolutely in the pursuit of phantoms. He gave them ear only for a time but he was happy SGraham Greene, /Tie Power and the Glory (New York: The Viking Press, 1940), p. 284. 6Discernment of Spirits, p. 9. 7Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf(New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1963), p. 43. 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 only when he was far from them, beyond their call, alone or in the company of phantasmal comrades.S The parable of the good shepherd stresses the importance of recognizing the voice of the master.9 Eternal life depends on this; only those who hear and respond enter into the fullness of life. But Jesus' voice was one among many. Competition for the sheep was great and, given the gift of freedom, there could be no forcing of individual liberty. Though Jesus called some directly, they refused to listen: the rich young man, Judas, the scribes and pharisees. Others, men like John, Stephen and Paul, heard the loving call and became committed disciples. The voice of the risen Lord continues to compete with the sounds of our times. He can be heard in our sacraments of faith, in the sights and sounds of nature, in the revelation of Scripture, in the community of believers, in the words and deeds of our fellow pilgrims. Life itself is a summons to reach out and fulfill our task of becoming fully human in order that we might glorify our God. Radios have a selective apparatus called a tuner through which we can choose the station that pleases us. Many excellent possibilities are available: beautiful music, intelligent conversation, educational programs. Other options expose us to dissonant sounds, inane banality, devious propaganda. With a twist of the dial we have the power to position ourselves in any one of these environments and thus grant permission to certain ideas and images to enter and shape our perspective. In the spiritual realm, discernment tunes itself to God's message of love and forgive-ness in Jesus and lives this deep mystery in word and deed. A novel by Chaim Potok entitled My Name is Asher Lev presents an artisti-cally gifted young man who has to discern among many voices. Early in life Asher Lev recognizes that his ability to draw had not only the potential for self-fulfillment but also the possibility of a serious rupture with his parents and the Jewish community at large. In anger and confusion he argues with God: You don't want me to use the gift; why did you give it to me? Or did it come to me from the Other Side? it was horrifying to think my gift may have been given to me by the source of evil and ugliness. How can evil and ugliness make a gift of beauty?~0 The pressure from the leaders of the community, the warnings of frie,nds, the intrinsic urgings of the gift, the delicate relationship with his parents were all voices seeking attention and action. Would the gift be heard and exercised regardless of the cost? Discernment calls for radical fidelity to God, self and others. Wisdom and courage are needed to hear the truth and implement it in our personal history. 3. Discernment is cultivated in listening love that allows one to hear the .felt-experience of good and evil movements within oneself, others and society. a James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (New York: Colonial Press Inc., 1944), pp. 83-84. 9Jn 10: I-5. ~°Chaim Potok, My Name is Asher Lev (New York: Fawcett Crest Books, 1972), p. 116. Principles of Discernment / 165 For these souls, their hearts tell them what God desires. They have only to listen to the promptings of their hearts to interpret his will in the existing circumstances. God's plans, disguised ,as they are, reveal themselves to us through our intuition rather than through our rea.son. I I Love gives freedom. Love accepts another person as he is, and discerns in the other person hidden strength. Love communicates to the other a new kind of self-possession, and enables the other to act with self-confidence.~2 Only by the supernatural working of grace can a soul pass through its own annihilation to the place where alone it can get the sort of attention which can attend to truth and to affliction. It is the same attention which listens to both of them. The name of this intense, pure, disinter-ested, gratuitous, generous attention is love.~ It is not blind love that is the enduring love, the love that God himself is. It is a seeing love, a knowing love, a love that looks through into the depth of the heart of God, and into the depth of our hearts. There is no strangeness to love; love knows; it is the only power to complete and lasting knowledge?4 Jesus was a listener and a lover. In a powerful exchange with Peter,15 Jesus listens to Peter's profession that his master is indeed Messiah; Jesus also hears Peter's unwillingness to embrace the fact that the Messiah must suffer and die. As he listens with love Jesus discerns the first response of Peter as coming from the Father and the second movement and response as coming from mere human standards. This beautiful example of double discernment resonates with many of our own experiences in which we act out of mixed motives and according to diverse and sometimes contradictory criteria. Authentic discernment is possible only when one has the graced ability to listen in love to the deepest impulses, urges and longings of the human heart with great care and exquisite respect. Jesus models for us the very essence of discernment. The sunflower delights both our eye and our imagination. In the morning it faces the east awaiting the dawn; by evening it gazes to the west as though pursuing its god. Two qualities are evident in this docile plant: the "listening" power ena-bling it to take in the sun's warm rays and its ability to respond to the flight of the sun in loving fidelity. This image highlights the importance of sensitivity in the discernment process. The slightest, impulse, urging and prompting must be absorbed and responded to if we are to faithfully follow the call of the Master. Such listening and responding is grounded in love. Love pulls us out of self-preoccupation and the parochialism of our narrow lives. The sunflower images a type of listening and love characteristic of a discerning heart. Would that the simplicity, spontaneity and flexibility of the sunflower were ours! ~Jean Pierre De Caussade, Abandonment to Divine Providence (New York: Doubleday Image Book, 1975), p. 105. ~2Man Becoming. p. 50. ~The Simone Weil Reader, p. 333. ~'~Paul Tillich. The Shaking of the Foundations (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1948), p. II0. ~SMt. 16:13-23. 166 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 The movie, Ordinary People, presented a scene in which an emotionally dis-turbed young man reached out to a psychiatrist for help: Initially the relationship did not go well. Later, with time and patience, the deep loving concern and listening skills of the doctor won out. The boy revealed his story and partial healing took place. More than simple listening'happened here: a deep discernment of the movements of the heart surfaced, were owned and dealt with. More than superficial concern was demonstrated here: a profound, radical trust resulted in giving life and well-being. In such instances heart speaks to heart (cot ad cot) and even though religious language is not used nor God mentioned explicitly, a person of faith can recognize his presence in such an encounter and appreciate the exercise of the gift of discernment. 4. Discernment relies on two mirrors: Jesus and revelation. The disciple living today.does possess one ultimate criterion for correct discernment: i.e., Jesus himself.~6 With the help of the Holy Spirit, it is the task of the entire People of God, especially pastors and theologians, to hear, distinguish and interpret the many voices of our age, and to judge them in the light of the divine Word. In this way, revealed truth can always be more deeply penetrated, better understood, and set forth to greater advantage,t7 Jesus is our m~.ster to whom we do not pay enough attention. He speaks to every heart and utters the word of life, the essential word for each one of us, but we do not hear it. We would like to know what he has said to other people, yet we do not listen to what he says to us.~ The miracle of the loaves as presented in John's Gospel~9 involves an example of discernment. Many of the disciples who had followed Jesus up to this point now walked away, finding incredible the claim that Jesus himself was the bread of life. The Lord turned to the Twelve and asked if they too would go away. Simon Peter's. response: "Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life.'~0 The specific choice that was made was based on a person and his word. No abstract philosophy here; no esoteric theology; no subtle psychology. Discernment and decision flowed from a relationship of trust and faith. Implicit in such a discernment process is fidelity: decisions are made in terms of personal commit-ment. Such fidelity secures personal identity because in such an exercise of free-dom we protect both the reality of the Creator and the creature. No lies are possible with authentic discernment. The keystone of an arch is in a precarious position. Its presence makes the arch integral, but it is dependent on the two columns which it unites. If either column is missing there simply is no arch and the stone meant to be a key remains just an ~6Jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads. trans. John Drury (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1978), p. 129. ~TThe Documents of Vatican IL Gaudium et Spes New York: Herder and Herder, 1966), p. 246. taAbandonment to Divine Providence. p. 53. ~'~Jn 6:1-71. Principles of Discernment ] 167 ordinary stone. Discernment rests on the personal column of Jesus Christ: his values and affections are the very substance we use in sorting out the many options of life. Discernment also rests on Sacred Scripture which provides a vision of salvation history and the backdrop for measuring what is spiritual and what is not. Blessed are the poor, the peacemakers, the ones who hunger and thirst for justice; ungodly are the self-indulgent, the self-serving, the lukewarm. Revelation clarifies those actions which are life-giving and those which are death-dealing. The person of Jesus leaves unambiguous the path we are to follow. Such lights as Jesus and Scripture are rich and necessary graces for our journey. The Confessions of Augustine of Hippo reveal a man for whom the word of God and the person of Jesus were vital sources of power. It was in St. Paul's letter to the Romans that God's word overwhelmed the struggling Augustine; it was in personal relationship with Christ that he perceived reality from a faith perspective. Augustine's hunger for the truth, nourished for years by the classic philosophers, now found sustenance from Scripture. Augustine's deep affectivity, once franti-cally seeking fulfillment in an unbridled sensuous life, found its home in the Lord. With these two resources it is no wonder that the bishop of Hippo is noted for his keen, incisive decisions. Both as a judge of human affairs and as an exegete of Scripture, he brought much life to many because his process of discernment was rooted in the Lord and in biblical faith. 5. Discernment assumes that God is continually working in the depth of every individual and community. He (God) revealed himself several times reigning, as is said before, but principally in man's soul; he has taken there his resting place and his honorable city. Out of this honorable throne he will never rise or depart without end. Marvelous and splendid is the place where the Lord dwells; and therefore he wants us promptly to attend to the touching of his.grace, rejoicing more in his unbroken love than sorrowing over our frequent failings.2~ But whatever we do, we do it because we are diawn to this particular acti6n without knowing why. All we can say can be reduced to this: ~'1 feel drawn to write, to read, to question and examine. I obey this feeling, and God, who is responsible for it, thus builds up within me a kind of spiritual store which, in the future, will develop into a Sore of usefulness for myself and for others." This is what makes it essential for us to be simple-hearted, gentle, compliant and sensitive to the slightest breath of these almost imperceptible promptings.22 Ah, but it is hard to find this track of the divine in the midst of this life we lead, in this besotted humdrum age of spiritual blindness, with its architecture, its business, its politics, its men!2J The realization that God is active in all that happens at every moment is the deepest knowl-edge we can have in this life of the things of God?4 ~°Jn 6:68. 2~Julian of Norwich: Showings. trans. Edmond Colledge, O.S.A., and James Walsh, S.J., Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1978). p. 337. 2~Abandonment to Divine Providence, p. 81. ~Steppenwolf, p. 35. 24Abandonment to Divine Providence, p. 117. 1611 / Review for Religious, March-Apri!, 1982 Creation is God's presence to us in beauty; the cross is God's presence to us in our brokenness and twistedness.2~ God's creative and redemptive power is at work wherever there is life. Whether or not a given individual responds to that presence is dependent upon the working of grace and freedom. The point is that God is always working. John's Gospel drives this fact home.26 Accepting this in faith, we. are challenged to become increasingly conscious of divine stirrings deep within our individual lives as well as our communities. Focal awareness, a high intensity consciousness, may not be that frequent, but subsidiary awareness, a sense of a background presence, can become a way of life.27 As our faith deepens we become ever more sensitive to the working of God's Spirit in our minds and hearts. The life story of the grape can provide an image of the discernment captured by the vines and their energy transformed into grapes. Upon. beir~g harvested and crushed, the grape enters into a fermentation process. Through the hidden work-ings of bacteria surrounded by proper temperatures, darkness and sugars, the grapes are converted into wine. So, too, in our spiritual journey, the need for ongoing conversion is a constant call and is made possible through the perennial movements of God in our innermost being. The sourness of the unredeemed areas of our inner life are turned into the succulent sweetness of a life of union. In her sensitive allegory Hinds' Feet on High Places, Hannah Hurnard has us journey with the main character Much-Afraid through a fermentation process that eventually results in "much-trust." At first our heroine is enslaved by fear, oppressed by human respect, devoid of joy. Gradually she begins to sense the stirrings of grace within her soul. God's promptings lead Much-Afraid into free, dom and then on to acts of courage. Her story is symbolic of all those enslaved by fear. Her liberation in grace is greatly aided by an exercise that could well become the model for many: To this place she was in the habit of going very early every morning to meet Him and learn His wishes and commands for the day, and again in the evening to give her report on the day's work.28 Such conversation and accountability enrich the discerning heart. 2~John Shea, Stories of God: An Unauthorized Biography (Chicago, II1.: Thomas More Association, 1978), p. 152. ~Jn 6. 271n an essay entitled "The study of Man," Michael Polanyi writes: "We may say that when we com-prehend a particular set of items as parts of a whole, the focus of our attention is shifted from the hitherto uncomprehended particulars to the understanding of their joint meaning. This shift of attention does not make us lose sight of the particulars, since one can see a whole only by seeing its parts, but it changes altogether the manner in which we are aware of the particulars. We become aware of them now in terms of the whole on which we have fixed our attention. I shall call this a subsidiary awareness of the particulars, by contrast to a focal awareness which would fix attention on the particulars in themselves, and not as parts of a whole. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1959), pp. 29-30. 28Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places (Old Tappan, New Jersey: Fleming H. Revell Com-pany, 1973), p. 13. Principles of Discernment / 169 6. Discernment respects the nature of time and is willing to wait freely for a decision that has need of clarification, detachment and magnanimity. Ligfitning and thunder require time, the light of the stars requires time, deeds require time even after they are done, before they can be seen and heard,z9 Simply by making us wait he increases our desire, which in turn enlarges the capacity of our soul,/naking it able to receive what is to be given usP0 The poet contrasts us in our waiting and in our going ahead. For those who take initiative into their own hands, either in the atheism of pride or in the atheism of despair, the words are weary, faint, and exhausted. The inverse comes with waiting: renewed strength, mounting up, running, walking. But that is in waiting. It is in receiving not grasping, in inheriting and not possessing, in praising and not seizing. It is in knowing that initiative has passed from our hands and we are safer for it.3~ Many of the Lord's parables deal with the notions of time and waiting. One of these tells of the necessity of being ready for the master's return from the wedding feast.32 Happy for those who are awake and prepared for the unexpected. Fear, weariness and even impatience are moods that threaten our call to decide to respond to God's call. Milton's "they also serve who. only stand and wait" expresses a situation that only the most courageous can accept. Timing in decision-making is most subtle; in'deed, God's time (kairos) is often not our time (chronos). A basic guideline in the spiritual life is that we "act on our clarities." When things are too muddy we wait, however painful that may be. Without expecting a certi-tude or clarity that is unrealistic, we gradually 'become comfortable with that faith fact that seeking and waiting can be as meritorious and grace-filled as finding. The important thing is that God's will be done.33 Telephone companies provide a service by which a person can find out the correct time by dialing a certain number. Wo~uld that our inner seasons were as clear as our chronological time frame! It is hard to discern in winter when dor-mancy and coldness immobilize our hearts. People are counseled never to make decisions of major import when depressed; it is simply the wrong time. No~" should decisions be made when romanticism sweeps through the heart blinding the indi-vidual to the shadow side of life. We discern on level ground, not on the peaks nor in the valleys. The correct time is known more through intuition than rational deduction--we sense discernment more than figure it out. The phone number locates us and orientates us according to the sun; discernment provides bearings in reference to a much brighter Light. Shakespeare's King Lear provides an excellent example of timing and dis-cernment. The king was aging and decided to distribute his property and wealth among his daughters, each being given a share in proportion to her profession of mPeter Berger, A Rumor of Angels (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1969), p. I I. 3°Thomas H. Green. S.J., When the Well Runs Dry (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 1979), p. 113. 3*Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1978), pp. 78-79. J~Lk 12:35-40. 17t) / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 love for her father. Not only was Lear unwise in his standard of division, he was misguided in his time. The consequence was eventual insanity and death. Dis-cernment demands a standard, one based on knowledge of reality and deep faith. Discernment demands awareness of the Lord's timing. Until that surfaces we wait, trusting that the Lord will show us his plan. Detachment allows us to accept whatever is asked; magnanimity provides room to welcome whatever is given. Discernment needs much grace and graciousness. 7. Discernment is a gift which comes to those who are properly attuned through obedience and surrender. In everything else, this soul will preserve a perfect liberty, always ready to obey the stirrings of grace the moment it becomes aware of them, and to surrender itself to the care of providence.34 When a soul has reached the third stage, the love of friendship and filial love, her love is no longer mercenary. Rather she does as very close friends do when one receives a gift from the other. The receiver does not just look at the gift, but at the heart and the love of the giver, and accepts and treasures the gift only because of the friend's affectionate IoveP~ The hearing of God's Word requires complete self-surrender.36 The Annunciation narrative in Luke's GospeP7 presents Mary in a perplexing situation. Her future with Joseph had been determined; plans were made; impor-tant decisions were set in motion. Suddenly God breaks into the "best-laid schemes o' mice an' men." What is to be done? To whom does one listen? What price the surrender of one's will to the call of God? This biblical account gives us a classic example of discernment. The divine will summons and history hangs in balance. Though struggling with fear and the unknown, Mary discerns the voice of the Lord and in prompt obedience and generous surrender commits her life to the providence of her God. That gift of discernment was rooted in her identity as the handmaid of the Lord. Mary knew who she was and it was from that giftedness of her graced filled life that such an extravagant and total response poured forth from her heart. A hearing aid is a grea't blessing for those individuals for whom deafness is an encroaching reality. This technical device helps restore the precious gift 6f hearing. One can once again listen to a variety of sounds and calls and through surrender render personal obedience. Physical listening has its counterpart in the spiritual realm, as does deafness. Often we do not hear. Sometimes this is a matter of choice, sometimes a matter of circumstance. Regardless, we fail to discern the words and movements of the Lord because the gift of discernment has not been activated. Hearing aids can be adjusted, even turned off. When God asks what is a~Julian of Norwich: Showings. pp. 195-196. ~Abandonment to Divine Providence, p. 88. J~Catherine of Siena, The Dialogues, trans, and introd. Suzanne Noffke, O.P., Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), p. 134. ~6Meister Eckhart, t~ans. Raymond B. Blakney INew York: Harper Torchbooks, 1941), p. 33. ~TLk 1:26-38. Principles of Discernment / 171 demanding or unpleasant we can unconsciously or blatantly turn from his sum-mons and fail to respond. Here we see that the discernment process has'high mutuality: the call and gift from God, thefree response of obedience and surrender from the human person. God respects our freedom too much to force a response. Gradually it becomes evident that discernment isnot just one gift among many: it is a crucial gift determining~destinies. Story of a Soul, the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux, is a candid revelation of a deep love relationship. Surrender and obedience were qualities that gave constant direction to the saint's life; these dispositions opened her to the gift of discernment. Therese realized that Christian living demanded not only recogni-tion of what is to be done but also the actual doing: As little birds learn to sing by listening to their parents, so children learn the science of the virtues, the sublime song of Divine Love from souls responsible for forming them.3~ Authentic discernment moves from listening to virtue. God uses many interme-diaries (parents, teachers, friends, "enemies") to both proclaim his message and model a response. In this environment the gift of~ discernment takes root. Therese's being was receptive to the stirrings of grace. The song of divine love was. heard, the r~esponding melody was also one of deep love. 8. Discernment happily blends faith and pragmatism: it searches out God's will in radical trust and does it. The People of God believes that it is led by the Spirit of the Lord. who fills the earth. Motivated by this faith, it labors to decipher authentic signs of God's presence and purpose in the happenings, needs, and desires in which this People has a part along with other men of our age. For faith throws a new light on everything, manifests God's design for man's total vocation, and thus directs the mind to solutions which are fully human)9 The will certainly seems to me to be united ir~ some way with the will of God; but it is by the effects of this prayer and the actions which follow it that the genuineness of the experience must be tested and there is no better crucible for doing so than this.'~ Every activity is related to good and evil twice over: by its performance and by its principle.4~ While teaching one day,~2 Jesus was interrupted when some men, carrying their paralyzed friend and lowering him through the roof, ingeniously got' ev-eryone's attention. The story is familiar; two things ~hould be noted for ohr pur-pose. These men had a deep faith in Jesus. They truly believed that this teacher had power and concern. Second!y,~their faith was active. They expended much energy JsStor), of a Soul." the Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux. trans. John Clarke, O.C.D. (Washing-ton, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1975), p. 113. 3gThe Documents of Vatican II, p. 209. 4°The Complete Works of St. Theresa of Jesus. ed. and trans. E. Allison Peers (London: Sheed & Ward, 1944), 2:238. 4~ The Simone Well Reader, p. 292. 42Lk 5:17-26. 172 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 and subtle creativity.in allowing t.heir faith,filled hearts to be nourished by divine healing. Both their trust and activity were rewarded in the cure of their friend. Discernment is both relational and functional; it is contemplative and active; it is faith-filled and pragmatic. The contemporary concern for integration is similar to the ever present call to discernment. A person of true discernment is integral. No false dichotomy here: action must be consequent to principle. Grounded in deep faith discernment pushes from below; drawn into active response discernment calls us forth to be agents of change. ¯ H20 is the chemical formula describing our precious gift of water. The blend-ing of these two elements produces a substance necessary for life. Hydrogen without oxygen fails to give us our refreshing liquid and vice versa. So in the spiritual domain: faith without action is dead; action without faith loses its ulti-mate significance. The water of the spiritual life is the grace of discernment; its basic elements are faith and deed. Depending upon the developmental phases of the community or individual, the w~ight will shift more towards faith, more towards action according to the level of maturity and the needs of the people. Here we realize that. spiritual laws are much more subtle than those of nature. In his journal entitled Markings, Dag Hammarskjold records the diverse movements of his inner life. We come to realize that this inter:national figure, busy with multiple responsibilities of the United Nations, had a very well developed and nurtured spiritual life. He speaks often of faith; he notes the importance of action. One passage will suffice: We act in faith--and miracles occur. In consequence, we are tempted to make the miracles the ground for our faith. The cost of such weakness is that we lose the confidence of faith, Faith is. faith creates, faith carries. It is not derived from, nor created, nor carried by anything except it~ own reality.4J The mixture is right; the roots of the tree blossom forth through the branches carrying and bringing much life. Discernment makes this possible. 9. Discernment looks to consequences for its authenticity: decisions are of God if ultimately leading to life and love. I am quite sure that no one will be deceived in this way for long if he has a gift for the discernment of spirits and if the Lord has given him true humility: such a person will judge the~e spirits by their fruits and their resolutions and their love.'~ To estimate the worth of a spiritual decision, we thus have three criteria at our disposal: the authenticity of our union with God, the unity of the different elements of our being, the cohesion which our action assumes in relation to ourselves, .to others and to the world,aS The work of love not only heals the roots of sin, but nurtures practical goodness. When it is authentic you will be sensitive to every need and respond with a generosity unspoiled by 4~Dag Hammarskjold, Markings (N~w York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. 1966), p. 145. ~The Complete Works of St. Theresa of Jesus, 1:378. 4SFrancois Roustang, S.J., Growth in the Spirit. trans. Kathleen Pond (New York: Sheed & Ward. 1966), p. 122. Principles of Discernment / 173 selfish intent. Anything you attempt to do without this love will certainly be imperfect, for it is sure to be marred by ulterior motives.46 Authentic Christian living results in action and explicit concern. Jesus draws our attention to the fig tree that is rich in foliage but devoid of fruit.47 For a hungry person the fruitless fig tree is worthless, we discern its worth in this case by whether or not it achieves its essential destiny. In our spiritual journey discernment is tested by the effects of our action and the concomitant affectivity. Does our activity give life, i.e., does it foster an increase of love, joy and peace? Or do our actions lead to death, i.e., apathy, sadness and anxiety? Discernment registers at the deepest level of our humanity--in our guts! We come to sequester that which nurtures from that which enervates. As in economic affairs so in spiritual matter we come to the bottom line: the financial world looks to profit/loss and the spiritual world looks to life/death. The stethoscope allows medical personnel to become attuned to the inner physiological movements of the patient. The trained ear can evaluate the proper functionings or pathological stirrings of vital organs. What the naked eye has no way of knowing, the ear with the aid of the stethoscope can easily ascertain, Discernment is a process of listening to the stirrings of the many different spirits constantly at work within the complexity of our lives. A good spiritual director intuitively senses how our life-style and motivational field is impacting on the inner terrain. If congruence is sensed, then God's word is tak~ing root and bearing proper fruit. If there is dissonance, then dialogue is in order to understand where it is coming from. This is no easy task. The movements of the spirit are mixed and often ambiguous. At times God's word will cause dissonance while the work of the evil spirit causes apparent harmony. These uncharted waters make us hesitate and call out for help from a good spiritual navigator! Sophie's Choice, a novel by Willim Styron, narrates the many decisions thata young woman had to make in very dire circumstances. The choice of letting either her son or daughter be sent to the gas chambers is symbolic of the horrendous decisions that confront the human spirit~ Throughout ttiis novel we witness people making choices and dealing with the powerful effects that shape their destinies. These effects basically fall on one or other side of the line: life or death. Sad to say, most of the decisions were not life-affirming~ Any good novel is essentially a study of discernment from an experiential point of view. Situations arise, choices are made, life or death follows. No one is exempt from dealing with the script of his or her own life. The process is universal. Grace is necessary if we are to discern wisely and act with courage. 10. Discernment leads to truth and, through truth, into freedom. The very word "truth" filled my heart with enthusiasm. The beauty of the word shone in my 46The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counseling. ed. William Johnston (New York: Doubleday Image Book, 1973). p. 64. "1"/4 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 eyes like a spiritual sun dispelling all shadows--those of ignorance, of error, of deceit, even those of iniquity, which is an error of measure and a lie. "Knowing the truth"--a pleonasm. With truth there is already knowing, as there is reality and being. To think the word "truth" is to assume a spiritual faculty, in which alone truth can be found. It is to assume the capacity of such a spiritual faculty to conform itself to being, to reality, in order within itself to produce the truth. It is also to raise the question of knowing whether such a faculty exists,as And ira will of iron represents one aspect of the liberated soul, flexibility and detachment of spirit represent a complementary aspect. To obey the inspirations of grace moment by moment, t9 adjust oneself readily to the promptings of a living Master, is a task which demands the glorious liberty that is the high prerogative of the sons of God.49 But at this moment I came upon myself. Previously I had existed, too, but everything had merely happened to me. Now I happened to myself~ Now I knew: I am myself now, now I exist. Previ~ausly I had been willed to do this and that; now I willed.~° God's w~)rd calls us to truth and freedom. Mary Magdalene wandered in the garden in deep dejection because her master and friend was dead.5~ Death appeared to have had the final say and such news caused enslavement to fear and depression. Then the experience of the Lord! The truth is exposed: sin and death are overcome by the cross and resurrection. God's fidelity and power are everlast-ing. The bond of sin is broken; the sting of death destroyed. With this truth came freedom, a freedom overflowing into joy. Mary sees and is able to act. This narrative helps us to see that the gift of discernment brings vision and responsibil-ity. In recognizing the risen Lord we contact reality; in being graced, we become gracious. Through the word of God we deepen our sense of identity and mission. This process allows us to find meaning which allows for motivation, enabling us to risk the use of time and energy in new and creative ways.'For Mary, Jesus was the truth that leads to freedom; for Mary, his person allowed proper discernment. Scientists use two instruments in their work of discovery and invention that are, by nature, tools of discernment, the microscope and telescope. With awe and wonder, we use the microscope to probe cellular structures revealing the deep patterns of life; with anticipation and excitement; we find the telescope pulling us into galaxies undreamt of by our ancestors. Gifted with such tools we come to know invisible worlds and incredible spaces. The spiritual realm is no less astound-ing. With the tools of subtle interior silence and perceptive wisdom we scan the vast plan of God's creative love. Such dispositions are crucial in coming to know truth and to exercise our freedom. Discernment falters amidst noises; it is blinded and cannot know what is pleasing to God. Discernment is seeing, a seeing that leads to freely doing the truth in love. Lavrans Bjorgulfson, speaking to his wife, says: "I know not. You are so strange--and all you have said tonight. 1 was afraid, Ragnfrid. Like enough 1 47Mk I 1:12-14. ~8Raissa Maritain, We Have Been Friends Together (New York: Green and Co., 1942), p. 80. agE. Herman. Creative Prayer (Cincinnati. Ohio: Forward Movement Publications, n.d.), p. 79. 50C. G. Jung, Memories. Dreams. Reflections. ed. by Aniela Jaffe and trans. Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Vintage Books, 1965). pp. 32-33. ~Jn 20:11-18. Principles of Discernment / 175 understand not the hearts of women."~2 In Sigrid Undset's Kristin Lavransdatter, we witness the tragedy of ignorance and the paralyzing power of fear that follows. Lavrans, a good man, does not understand the heart of his wife, Ragnfrid, nor that of his daughter, Kristin. Their loves were mysteries to him and, lacking proper discernment of the movements of their hearts, the tortuous pain of misunderstand-ing was bound to follow. The truth of the heart is a special knowledge all its own. Only when the heart is "informed" and well-known do the waters of freedom flow. Principles clash with the particulars of life. Helpful as they might be, life is lived in experience, not reflection. Yet we need to step back ever so ~ften for perspective and meaning. Hopefully this essay has fulfilled that task. My only hope is that these pages have realized the mandate oncegivEn by Emily Dickinson: Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth's superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind-- ~2Sigrid Undset, Kristin La,;ransdatter, I The Bridal Wreath, trans. Charles Archer and J. C. Scott (New York: Bantam Books; 1976); p. 232. Pope John Paul II to Jesuit Superiors, February 27, 1982i In fact, a special bond binds your Society to the Roman Pontiff, the Vicar of Christ oft earth . St. Ignatius and his companions., attached capital importance to this bond of love and service to the Roman Pontiff, so much so that they wished this "special vow" to be a characteristic: element of the Society . It is evident that here we are touching upon the essence of the lgnatian charism and upon that which lies at the very heart of your order. And it is to this that you must always always remain faithful. Prayer and Regression John O'Regan, O.M.I. Father O'Regan's "Unavailability as Poverty" appeared in the issue of July, 1981. His address is: 37 Woniora Road; P.O. Box 70; Hurstville, Australia 2220. i~|he~' wish to return to childhood is, in most instances, a regressive wish--a desire to abrogate adult responsibilities, and to return to a.state of dependence. But this wish may also have another aspect. To seek after the spontaneity and freedom of the secure child is a different matter and may, perhaps, be what is meant by the saying of Christ: 'Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.' This is no regression to childishness, but rather, an advance to such security and freedom with our fellowmen that we can be whatever we are and allow them to be the same."~ Scripture scholars may disagree with psychiatrist Storr's understanding of Matthew 18, but the general drift of his meaning is clear and points to an under-standing of scriptural childness that may assist us in our understanding of prayer~ Of course it is quite possible to have regressive prayer and it shows up in many subtle ways. The prayer of the "good Lord" who is a distant, benign, undemanding and wholly pardoning God is surely a childish way of boxing God into a conve-nient category. The prayer that makes one feel good and somehow seals out the rough and tumble of life is also a childish thing, for it is based on the pleasure principle and we asgume it is good because it makes us feel good, An altogether inistaken notion of spiritual consolation can easily have us thinking that good prayer is always less than painful. There are many variants of regressive prayer that one may use: here we have a general look at the possibility of regression and the proper form of childness that makes prayer authentic. ~The Integrity of Personality. A. Storr (Pelican: Middlesex, 1970), pp, 60-61. Prayer and Regression / 177 Time and Timing Many state that prayer cannot be programmed--that it arises spontaneously and when we feel we need it, we need it. Much can be said in praise of this as long as it is properly understood. Prayer as a habitual state of dependence on God and prayer as the more privileged moments of closeness to God--irrelevant prayer as Father Green calls it2--must be distinguished. The religious whose life is fully given over to God will surely see the need for stated times for formal prayer. Such prayer is often called lower case prayer, while the lifelong attitude of being given over to God gets a capitalized P for Prayer. The reverse may equally be the case, but for the purpose of this article we will stay with this distinction. Thus the religious whose prayer is clear will be bound to find times for prayer and these times will surely manage to have their own rhythm. And we, being creatures ofhabit, will find that such rhythms will be predictable. So that some form of programming will assert itself. Some of us are morning people and like to start the day with a stretch of prolonged prayer. Others are night people and feel more at home with God at that time. Each one to one's own preference here. The point at issue is that the natural rhythm of life itself will surely dictate a style and timing of prayer that will not be left to chance, still less to mood. Thus to pray when one "feels like it" may lead us into strife if that is the only criterion for prayer. Ruysbroeck, the Flemish mystic, has the idea of the indrawing and outpouring of God's grace in us: the same imagery may be applied to prayer. We indraw in prayer and we outpour in prayer. This means the withdrawal-involvement rhythm, while not needing the regularity of a metronome, will have its own inner impera-tive and clock for each of us. The harmony between contemplation and apostolic love (Perfectae caritatis n. 5) is still a task for all of us and we must always work at it. It seems to at least imply that this task (and gift) cannot be left to whim or mood: such a standard would indeed be childish. This of course is not to say that some people may find a long weekend of prayer somehow manages to suit them: all of this is assuredly matter for honest discernment. The well. may run dry rather easily and the land may become parched. For those o~" us whose moods have a sudden~and broad swing, the well and land may easily run dry or parched almost unknown to us. The length of time and the actual time for prayer are important factors when we take our religious commitment seriously. Time Spent At times there may be a veritable fissure in our lives: what we declare we are and what we in fact are, are often light years apart. We may have a fundamental falseness running right through our lives and manage to survive some way or another. Thus we may spend long hours at prayer and not have its influence felt in 2Opening to God. T.H. Green (Ave. Maria Press, IN, 1977). 1711 / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1982 our lives or at best allow its impact to be unhealthily muffled. Father Maurice Lefebre, killed in Boliva in the service of the poor, said that "because we live a lie, the truths we bring make no headway." This division between prayer and life--between prayer and Prayer--is surely a result of seeing prayer as a regressive retreat from the harsh and dreadful things that living for love of God and others really means. It is a womblike withdrawal that marks the overdone need for security from the cross that life is bound to hew for each of us who claims to be a follower of Christ. We all know of the piously impatient religious who brooks no interruption of his prayer, no matter what the demands may be from those he is serving. Fair enough: we should try to set up a little poustinia for our prayer-time but to see every interruption on this chosen retreat as an encroachment on our time "with God" is not an adult response, but a petulant reaction. Such a prayer has all the marks of childishness. One is here reminded of Jose Ortega y Gasser3 when he ponders on Commander Peary's day's polar trek with his team of dogs. After a hard day's mushing towards the north, he found at evening that he was much further south than when he started off in the morning! He has been working all day northwards on an immense iceberg being taken to the south by a strong ocean current. Hard times and long hours at prayer that are effectively isolated from life may give the impression of much progress. But the context of this kind of prayer must be taken into account lest we have a disconnected life of prayer, removed from the prayer of life. Like Peary's hard day's toil on the iceberg, much movement did not mean any progress at all -- even the reverse! The child is very much his or her own person with a great deal of emphasis on how he sees life. His childish optics give reality meaning that is not always geared to the givenness of reality itself. His childish templet thrown over reality effectively screens out some of its harsher aspects and amplifies its more congenial qualities so that much of his little life is essentially idiosyncratic. Much of his reality lacks consensual validation---effective checking out by way of feedback is too much bother for him. So that a prayer life that is removed too comfortably from the painful course of life is a childish kind of demiolife. As Augustine put it:: we may make many strides, but all outside the course. Dabar This prayer/life dichotomy is always with us. Only in Jesus were word and deed perfectly and positively corelated and all we do is strive to lessen the abyss that exists for us between what we profess we are and we in fact live. Herbert, the English poet, caught the idea beautifully when he wrote Doctrine and life--colors and light in one, When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and awe: JMeditations on Quixote, .I. OrtEga y Gasser (Norton: New York. 1961). p. 104. Prayer and Regression But speech alone doth vanish like a flaring thing, And in the ears, not conscience ring. Doctrine--what we believe and say we are, and life--how we actually incarnate this--must be together, like colors and light. Speech alone, outward show and mere protestation, means little and touches no one's conscience. So that while we try to bridge the gap between doctrine and life, we must be ever aware that it is all too easy to allow the gap to widen. Being Christlike, adopting the mind and heart of Christ will always be an imperative for us, and we must ever be ready to "live the truth in love" (Ep 4:15). This living, or "truthing"--- making word and deed more closely aligned in our lives, is an adult task. It is not for children--they must come a long way to be able to shoulder this project. In us adults, this cleavage between word and deed keeps us humbly on our toes and saves us from arrogance. It is only when we become unaware of this split-level living that we have cause for alarm. Filial Posture Prayer's paradigm has been given us once and for all by Jesus when in response to a disciple's request, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples," he said to them, "When you pray, say: Father." (Lk 11:i-4). It need hardly be said that the assumption is that the disciple was inspired when he saw Jesus praying "in a certain place." This anonymous disciple, seeing Jesus praying nowhere in particular, may be seen archetypically: we are that disciple and the nameless place may just as easily be seen in the same light, for we have to pray always and everywhere (see Ep 5:20; 6:18-19). Jesus is a model of prayer for us not just because he prayed regularly or had an unwavering prayer schedule. In Luke's gospel, he prays in practically every third chapter~ but in Mark's gospel, as scholars tell us, his early morning rising for prayer (i:35) is a typical day in the life of Jesus. But such visible expressions of prayer are but the observable expression of the inner disposition of a Man whose whole being is given over to God. He was not just driven to his knees as in the Mount of Olives (Lk 24:41-44) when the pressure was on: he prayed always and prayed formally on regular occasions. It was the inner oblation of his whole being that gave rise to these intense moments of close union with the Father. He was always addressing the Father and he here tells us that we must have the same filial posture when we come to pray. When we come before God for the more privileged moments of closeness to him (despite the apparent absence we may experience in these moments of apparent closeness) we must come with the filial gesture of "Abba," Father. This cordial posture must be the basis and ground of our prayer, giving it its tone, direction and content. In this word of daring intimacy, "Abba," we come to God with all the confidence of a child and the undeviating trust shown by God's Son. "Abba" Some writers have almost drooled over this term of piety and have given it a "11~1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 sentimental flavoring that does no justice to the deep connotation it is meant to have. Terms like "Pappa," "Dad" and the like have been suggested. But the term refuses to bear this lightweight meaning. Apart from familiar uses of the word children use to address their fathers, and beneath it all, there is the deep sense of dependence and trust that gives rise to the closeness of the bond binding child and father. A father may engage in rough and tumble fun with his children, and the little ones delight in it. In the process they may get bumps and even scratches and there is not even a whimper. If these "wounds" were sustained in play with siblings, there would often be a far different reaction--tears and tantrums and the need for succor. But the child's utter trust in the goodness of the father is ,the rubric under which little aches and pains don't matter much, for the little one's unbounded trust makes all safe and sound in the affectionate ambience of a father's loving care. It is interesting to note that the child has been seen in different ways over the centuries. Time was when he was viewed as a miniature adult, and not a growing person in his own right. He was an adult-in-the-making, so what was good for the adult was good for the child. This gave rise to the assumption that the child saw, felt and judged as did the adult, so that education was getting him to sit still while adults instilled adult lore into his little head. Again the child was (and possibly still is) viewed as born in utter innocence and is tainted by contact with adults. This romantic anthropology seems to have a second inning in transactional analysis with its grossly overrated "child" state. This idyllic state seems at the mercy of interfering and imperious "adult" states. The truth of the child, like the truth of adults, is light and shade. Children are far from being only the cuddlesome angels of nappie commercials, and the endless and undiluted joy they appear to give to adoring mothers is plainly fiction. A child with its bundle of impulses with monumental rages can terrify even a hardy mother, who may easily want to vent her frustration on this demanding little tyrant who is so messily incontinent so much of the time. The incessant demands for neverending attention--the price of survival for the little one, makes life for the dedicated mother quite hectic for most of the time. For dependency is the hallmark of the little child, and his attachment to his mother for all his needs is close to being a symbiotic relationship. Apart from the child's survival, the groundwork for its wholesome sense of worth and goodness about himself is laid in this period of utter dependence: Not only the quantity of time and output of nurturing love but the very quality of this loving attention has so much to do with the kind of person the child will grow up to be. Childhood thus at this stage, is a state of absolute and almost one-way dependency, with little or no effective control or management on the child's part. Surely this image of the child has little to do with the childness that is meant to be our basic praying posture. The wish to return to childhood and to alleged lost innocence is surely a regressive wish and a desire to escape adult responsibilities in an effort to reestab-lish utter dependence. Such a desire, while not always on the level of full aware-ness, is fraught with secret urges to get back to a stage when all was well and no Prayer and Regression / 1111 pressm:es were experienced. In a deep symbolic manner, this is a wish to reenter the womb with its safe and secure amniotic protection. It is a yearning for a prepersonal stage where relationships do not need to be worked at and where needs were superabundantly granted in immediate supplies. It may be likened to a wish to become absolutely recipient to all desires and wants--to be the more or less content receiver of a bountiful providence. The kind of struggle that Paul says must attend our prayer, is anathema to this mentality and the perceptive notion of St. Thomas--that we are non solum provisi sed providentes, is rejected out of hand. St. Thomas was saying that God's fatherly care is so good that he invites us to share in his providential care: we are, he states, not just provided for; we are, in fact, coproviders. Father A certain style of diction in spirituality easily lends itself to this kind of regres-sive attitude. The "Good Lord" address-system to God fosters (wittingly or no) this kind of misplaced benevolence: he looks conveniently the other way from our aberrations and closes a grandfatherly eye when we sin. This is a God Who is not supposed to make demands and offers discipleship on the cheap. It is a God whose Son was not wholly in earnest when he laid down the cost of discipleship in totally inconvenient, uncompromising and uncomfortable terms (see Mk 8:31-38; 9:30-32; 10:32-45) and made stern demands of those who answered his call. Following him meant much more than the immediate disciples were ready to pay for they latched on to the "glory" aspect of the Messiah and refused to face the cross: be delivered, condemned, delivered to the Gentiles, mocked, spat upon, scourged, killed. Self-denial, taking up one's cross and follow-ing him are not exertions one expects of a child. They are adult commands and Christianity is for adults. While all of these directives come from a God who is love and who loves us without measure, he does not love us out of, but into suffering or pain or dilemmas. His attitude is a far cry from the "Good Lord" spirituality who gives all but expects nothing in return. Such an undisturbing deity makes for fascinating study of the adult who would want such a convenient Father. Other such possibly misleading ideas come from a notion of a God who holds us in the palm of his hand and whose massive palm cradles a sleeping babe. Such kitsch theology and art may serve a purpose and does have some merit', but it also fosters a kind of childishness that is not helpful in our faithgrowth. Isaiah 49 does speak of being held in his hand, and such an image has powerful evocations. But the infant in the palm goes a little much in the "childish" direction. Paul's "strain-ing forward" (Ph 3:13) and Ephesians' final admonition with its strongly martial tone (Ep 6:10-20) makes unrelenting effort the mark of the true disciple. "To that end keep alert with all perseverance," having on the breastplate, feet shod with the gospel of peace~ the helmet of salvation, the shield of faith, the sword of the Spirit. (Ep 4:14-18). This is the opposite direction to regression, in fact an honest progres-sion to a more mature humanity (Ep 4:13) that leaves behind the things of a child (1 Co 13:il). 1~1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 Childhood: Recovery? In what sense then may we see childness as a faithful image or symbol for prayer? Surely the sense of dependency must enter as well as the sense of freedom. Anthony Storr (op. cir.) says that: "To seek after the spontaneity and freedom of the secure child is a different matter (from regression) and may perhaps be what is meant in the saying of Christ: 'Except ye be converted and become as little children ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven' "(Mt 18:3). Storr sees the freedom and spontaneity of childhood as a decided advance rather than a stepping back. But this is hardly enough. The scriptural idea of freedom is, as are many scriptural themes, set in paradox. "Live as free men," we read in I P 2:16, "yet without using your freedom as a pretext for evil: but live as servants of God." If freedom is a keynote of Christianity, then we would have to understand it aright. In Christ and in Paul, freedom and bondage are reconciled. Jesus is seen as the self-emptying servant, whose utter abasement was the occasion and condition of his abiding freedom in unique exaltation. Kolb notes that Certain aspects of the personality may be arrested in their maturing process, with the result that a full and harmonious development never occurs. By.an anxiety-evading mechanism known as regression, the personality may suffer loss of some development already retained and reverting to a lower level of integration, adaption and expression. The retreat to a lower level of personality development is characterized by immature patterns of thought, emotion or behavior? It is not an uncommon happening that when a child gets a new baby brother or sister, and sees all attention of parents leave him for the new arrival he may begin to baby talk all over again and even wet the bed. He regresses to these earlier developmental stages so as to endeavor to recover the attention he had before the birth of his sibling. This is not necessarily pathological and in fact we all resort to nightly regres-sion when we sleep and dream. We let go of our hold on reality, bypass the world of logic, cause-and-effect, space and time and drift into a world of unrealistic ~antasy. This nightly spell of regression is a refreshing and even essential pause to enable us to face the morrow with a fair amount of poise.5 Most of the so-called mental illnesses include more or less severe regression but regression in itself is not an illness. When it goes beyond the level of efficiency and hinders effective relations with others, it is presumed to be unusual. The point of all this is to ask ourselves the question on prayer: is it possible to see ourselves in some regressed childish state when we say "Abba" to God? Before ~3od we may at times feel utterly useless and worthless. Our utter helplessness may even create the impression that once again we are back to a stage of childhood that 4Modern Clinical Psychology. Laurence C. Kolb (W.B. Saunders Company: Phil. 1977). p. 110. ~Personality Development and Psychopathology: Norman Cameron (Houghton Mifflin Co.: Boston. 1963), passim. Ch. 6. Prayer and Regression can in fact be childishness. God is a loving Father, to be sure, but an omnipotent God as well. Jesus is the Father's love made flesh for us, but he is Jesus just the same and our best efforts to "put him on" fall pitifully short. Faced with this kind of relationship, it is not possible to see a childish posture as somehow appealing. We may somehow cringe into littleness and close to nothingness and this is surely a childish regression. If we are to grow in moral reasoning and faith-living, then regression seems out. It is possible that our religious "life" lags painfully behind our general personality growth and thus makes for a stunted growth all round. Does it not seem better to see our religion as one for adults and only inchoa-tively for children? Is the Father-child paradigm used misleadingly, or is it a fact that we are simply engaged in child-talk when we come to pray? These are serious questions. I wish here to offer an understanding of childness that includes regres-sion but in a wholesome manner. Growing Regression In regression, the bonds with reality are loosened and we are in a world where logic and reason as we know them do not hold sway. Time and space evaporate, so we in fantasy flit from Disneyland to Shangri La and back again in a trice. Logical connections no longer bind and we are in a Walter Mitty world of make-believe. This kind of thinking and fantasying is called "primary process thinking" by Freud. One of his pupils, Ernst Kris6 followed up this idea and noted the intrusion of primary process thinking in art, humor and other creative mental functionings. Kris called this ego-controlled regression, or regression in the service of the ego, Kris noted that such regression has two phases: first, a rather passive phase when "the subjective experience is that of a flow of thought and images driving towards expression" (p. 59). He was careful to state that we must distinguish this from the second phase--creativity, "in which the ego controls the primary process and puts it into its service." This is clearly not the psychotic condition in which the ego is overwhelmed by the primary process. Prayer as Regression Kris says the inspirational and elaborational phases are part of the single process that comprises this adaptive regression. In the first stage the person is rather passive while in the second he takes charge and ideas are deliberately worked out and the secondary process involving logic and reality testing predominates. Applying this theory to the childness attitude in prayer, we may see that the beginning phase is one in which we are purely receivers. Prayer, as we know, is gift and all we do is to receive it. But this "regression" stage is but a preliminary one. It is a necessary but surely not sufficient cause for the posture of prayer. For prayer is never a nirvanic thing and demands effort on our part. Here is where phase two ~Psychoanalytic Explorations in Art. Ernst Kris (International Universities Press, N.Y. 1952). 184 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 emerges: having been passive to the grace of prayer we now respond more actively and strivingly. Paul stresses the earnestness and effortful response one must make in prayer when he states in I Th 3:10 that he "offers his prayer to God as earnestly as possible." The intensity of Paul's supplications are underlined to indicate that his is no mere quietistic slumbering in his prayers for those to whom he ministers. (see also 2 Th 5:!3; Rm 15:30-32; Col 4:12). Kecharitomen~ The posture of Mary as outlined in Luke offers a prime example of this two-fold phase in "regressive" prayer. When Mary has been given some clarifica-tion about her mission from the Angel, she said: "Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord" (Lk l:38)--"let it be to me according to your word." She had been given the title Kecharitornenb ("having-been-favored One") indicating that all she was and is now being done to her is grace or gift. Nothing she has done has merited this special visitation and unique grace. The humble virgin bethrothed to a man named Joseph was content to be quietly anonymous and was addressed by the messenger as one to whom all is done. She is purely receptive. She ratifies all this when she states that she is the handmaid (slave) of the Lord, She, the epitome of the Poor of Yahweh, was indeed a child, a helpless one, but God did mighty things to and through her. For all that mighty uplifting she calls herself a "slave." She is ready to receive the word and will of God. Yet that is not all. The way Luke would have us understand the response of Mary removes forever the almost inert caricature of a passive woman--an image the late Paul VI was at pains to dispel in Marialis Cultus~ From the receptive posture of receiving God's word, she is energetically and deliberately poised to do God's bidding. The "let it be to me according to your word" is an anemic rendition of the mind of Luke, It would be better to say that Mary's mind was that her most ardent desire was to seek and do his word. We often forget that the "with haste" of Lk 1:39 used to describe Mary's immediate departure to visit her kinswoman Elizabeth, may also be translated as "with deep pondering." In some way we may see Mary as harmonizing her contemplation and apostolic love (Perfectae Caritatis n. 5). Childness in Prayer This article sought to seek some insights on childhood as a prayer posture that would-,safeguard the maturity of the praying person. Some overenthusiastic preachers in speaking of the "Abba" with which Jewish children address their father, speak of an overdone sentimentalism that does little good for prayer. The notion of childhood evokes many elements in a child that are not in any way appealing. To suggest that we revert to a childhood innocence when we come to pray might seem to .foster an infantilism that inhibits true communion with God and does little to promote our prayer life. The threadbare "where we are shibboleth seems to lose any respectability it ever had as in such a case we have to go back to where we were to pray in this childish manner. The conception of Prayer and Regression / 185 "regression in the service of ego" seems to help here with its two-fold phasing of letting-go and becoming more passive or receptive and then responding in a practical manner by praying earnestly. This kind of "regression" in no way bespeaks immaturity or illness but is the kind of process used by artists in their creative work. Prayer is a work in which we are cocreators with God--we are allowed to share with him in his own inner life and in such a way we are cocreators with him. But this is not an effortless ex nihilo gesture; it is more often than pot hard work. Here is where we work as though it all depended on us. But all the while he is the one who inspired the beginning of the creative effort of prayer and it is due to his prevenient grace that we even dream of praying at all. Today God Spoke to Me Today God spoke to me. He didn't say it was God; I didn't see him; I heard him. It was God. I will never forget what he said-- It was something quietly enormous-- Wait till I tell you. Think of a powerful current on the sea floor. A burst of all-encompassing light shot beyond Jupiter. Music in which I was afloat and wholly dissolved. But that's only what it was like. I want to tell you just what he said. What he said was.was. Oh, the words. I can't remember them, none at all, Except one that swept up all the others in everlasting arms. It said everything. It was Love, Love, Love. Louis Hasley 3128 Wilder Drive South Bend, IN 46615 Currents in Spirituality Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World George Ashenbrenner, S.J. For the third year, Father Aschenbrenner offers a survey of the year in matters spiritual. He continues his apostolate on a national scale, while residing at the University of Scranton; Scranton, PA 18510. This article is the third in a series.1 The first, two years ago, looked at th6 spiritual profile of a decade in a highly summary way, while both last year's article and this present one, less so but still very summarily and selectively, each sketch the landscape of a single year. I owe much to the editor of this journal, for the opportunity of this assignment. The focused effort to observe, to reflect upon and to articulate some of the developing trends and issues in American spirituality has been instructive and rewarding. A word of thanks, too, to some of my readers. 1 have seriously benefited from reactions and suggestions I have received. When you think of it, the year past, even viewed coldly, has been startling. And yet, how fearfully accustomed, and how quickly forgetful, we become. We heard-- and saw--assassination attempts on President Reagan and Pope John Paul 11; the ecstasy, after 444 days of agony, of the freeing of the hostages from Tehran; the ongoing murders in Central America; the endless floods of refugees throughout the world, in Central America, Africa, Thailand; the persistent "small-scale wars," ~See Review for Religious, March, 1980, "Currents in Spirituality: The Past Decade." pp. 196-218; and March, 1981, "Trends of 1980: Some Themes and a Few Specifics," pp. 234-51. 186 Trends and Issues in a Secularizing Worm fully sufficient to keep alive the fear and plausibility of World War 111: the contin-ually escalating number of divorces and abortions across this land of ours; and those few, terrifying nuclear missile mistakes that accompanied the deliberate, quite unmistaken increase of nuclear armaments on the part of the major world powers, and minor powers, too. These events warn both author and reader of an article such as this that life is fragile, and that it may be viewed as very cheap; that evil is very real, and that we may easily get numb to its great, dark mystery; and that faith in God as a search for meaning and as love of the reality of our world is not easy--not easy at all. Obviously this article, following so closely upon two other similar surveys, does a good deal of repeating, presupposing, overlapping because spiritual trends and issues ordinarily do not simply appear and vanish within the narrow purview of a single year. Furthermore, the observing and the commenting remain distinctly the~ perspective and the insight of just one single person's opinion and point of view. And certainly, for this reader of the signs of the times, the four fundamental concerns of last year's article continue to be of paramount importance for all personal and communal spiritual life in the Church today: concern for the possibil-ity of a profound and faithful love, in the face of our culture's penchant for sensational, dramatic, immediate (and short-lived) sensual stimulation; concern for a more refined, a more other-centered, Christian personalism; concern for a shared companionship in faith; and concern for the paschal character and quality of faith, a paschal faith requisite to sustain, for the long haul, realistic, apostolic enthusi-asm.~ Indeed, because the cultural influences at work in these four areas of concern are still very strong, this present article will relate to them in many ways. In coming toward the close of these introductory comments, I would like to relate and distinguish two words of the title: trends and issues. A trend, here, speaks to a pattern of thought or behavior, the evidence for which would be sufficiently widespread to make it more than a local or exceptional occurrence. Whereas, an issue poses alternatives that, ur~less dodged, invite and eventually even demand a choice. And the choice, of course, often incarnates a whole series of values that relate to and reveal the meaning and un.derstanding of the trend. Often, it is through reflection on the trend that issues are discovered. The more valuable work, I feel, is to look as deeply as possible into current trends in American spirituality, with confidence that this exercise will be of assistance to us in facing issues that surface. Many of these issues, it seems to me, do and will continue to need further recognition and clarification before any firm resolution of them is either possible or suitable. Occasionally, however, an issue is so basic, and where one stands on it, where one shouM stand on it, becomes, even early on, so clear and so fundamental to Christian life, that I have not held back from making a clear judgment about the matter in question. And now to some trends and issues at hand. As 1 have traveled about, con- 2See ibid., March, 1981, pp. 235-243. 11111 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 suited, read, given workshops, courses, retreats and spiritual direction this past year, a very dominant, overarching preoccupation and theme, as I reflect on my own experience and listen to the experience of others, is secularity, secularization, secularism. Humfin spiritual life exists only in a world where ongoing pressures come at us, from every side, to secularize all our experience: of ourselves, of one another, and of all aspects of our world. Certainly, there is nothing new about this observation. The matter has been with us for a century, and more. And in very current forms, it has been an overt preoccupation of the religious community in this country at least since Vatican 11. But I believe that its strength as a trend in serious spiritual life continues very much to grow. And so, after looking about me, 1 have chosen to reflect here, at considerable length, on this tendency toward secularization. Following that, I will, more briefly, discuss a number of trends and issues which, whether implicitly or explicitly, whether as cause or consequence or corollary, relate to this central trend of secularization. In general, as I treat these other trends and issues, 1 will leave to the reflection of the reader their precise relationship to the general theme of secularization. Secularization It is not uncommon to divide reality into the sacred and the secular. And though this distinction and its significance can be of immense subtlety and compli-cation, with serious traps for the unwary, we can attempt a simple, hopefully usable description here of these two aspects of reality. John Coleman, using Huston Smith, makes the distinction for us: By the "secular" I mean "regions of life that man understands and controls, not necessarily completely but., for all practical purposes." These are regions toward which humans adopt a basically utilitarian attitude of mastery and control, making judgments on the basis of the technical adequacy of means to achieve stipulated goals) "Secular," then, speaks to a world of human domination, understanding and "control without, at least, any necessary reference to God or appeal to, or nourish-ment from, the experience of faith or of religious affections. Coleman then de-scribes the sacred: By the "sacred" I mean the area of mystery--the incomprehensible, indomitable, and seriously and supremely important; for "the sacred exceeds not only our control but our comprehen-sion." Our characteristic attitudes toward the sacred are all celebration, participatory contem-plation, and gratitude rather than mastery.4 "Sacred," then, points to the reverently mysterious, the awesomely (not problemat-ically) uncontrollable and, for articulated Christian belief, to a living, personal, experienced relationship with God in faith and hope and love. ~John A. Coleman, S.J., Theological Studies, December, 1978, "The Situation for Modern Faith," p. 604, citing Huston Smith, "Secularization and the Sacred,~ in Donald Cutler, ed., The Religious Situation 1969, Boston, 1969, p. 583. 4Coleman, Ioc. cit. citing Huston, art. cit., p. 587. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing Worm / 1119 The tendency toward secularization in a world of human believers is inevitable. It may foster religious faith, or it may corrupt it. The human heart, in this world, however lofty and transcendent its desires may be, is, ought to be, always histori-cal, definite, incarnational. However much travel and communication have mobil-ized us, limitations of space and time still shape our identity. These limits can seem very restrictive and confining. To live in America or Poland or lran as the twen-tieth century closes may seem a paltry destiny, when compared with the space address that may well be among the options of our twenty-third century descen-dants. But these temporal and spatial limits do identify us now and, rather than confining us, can call forth those precise creative responses which will bring about the reality of space living in the future. As human realities, faith and religion must be planted and grow within this world. And so, they, too, are susceptible to time/space limitations. Though faith will always call us beyond the world, its healthy development always lies in vigorous interaction with the world and its daily round of activities. Spirituality is never simply faith; but rather, it is faith's interaction with culture. It therefore grows and incarnates itself precisely through a secularizing process and trend. With its central focus on Jesus of Nazareth, and therefore on incarnation, Christian spirituality not only tolerates but embraces, for the sake of its own existence and development, this secularizing interaction with the culture of a specific people and time. And this secularizing process can positively foster faith, because the kingdom of his Father which Jesus preached and lived, for the people of first century Palestine, was meant to be lived in the world. In his parables, Jesus took illustra-tions from the culture of ordinary people, and he challenged everyone to a whole new way of imagining !ife in this universe. Granted that the fullness of his Father's kingdom beckoned beyond all this here and now, still the kingdom became an illusion if it did not take flesh in the daily circumstances of a specific culture. Over these twenty centuries, the continually limited situation of human faith has succes-sively called for multiple creative responses in the spirit-responses that lead to developments of both dogma and Christian life and that transform aspects of cultures, as each response incarnates, just a bit more, that loving reign of his Father which Jesus so desired for all. Though it is not always easy to interpret what is or is not providential, history is of course also dotted with instances of mistaken, or at least very tardy, responses of the Church to certain cultural challenges. Speaking summarily, then, we must be careful not to interpret the inevitable trend toward secularization as, of itself, destructive or weakening of Christian faith and witness. There is a healthy, permanent, indispensable secularity to Jesus' vision of loving and trusting his Father. However, having spoken to the essential character of its positive meaning and purpose, we must frankly notice that this inevitable secularizing tendency, when not carefully purified and focused, can be dangerously corrupting of the life of faith. And we are speaking here of no mere danger, it seems to me, but of an actual 190 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 trend of significant strength. The secularizing tendency of life in our world can and does easily, both consciously and unconsciously, settle into secularism, as an overall view of reality. John Coleman helps us again, this time quoting Guy Swanson: Secularism is the "denial that sacred order exists, the conviction that the universe is in no meaningful sense an expression or embodiment of purpose, the belief that it is unreasonable, other than anthropomorphically, to have toward the universe or its 'ground" a relationship mediated by communication or by any other interchange of meanings--to have toward it a relationship in any sense interpersonal."~ In this view, the world has become all, has become the ultimate: it has become God. Here we are entirely beyond any secularity, any inevitable and useful ten-dency toward secularization. As a vision of all reality, secularism has no time for faith, no basis for faith, much less for the intimacy of all true religion's interper-sonal relationship with God. In any explicit debate about secularism, of course, this corrupting danger for faith can be clearly percdived, and so the option to reject it is very available. But even at the theoretical, or notional level, rejection is not so easy, When the inroads are far advanced. However, it is at the operative level, the lived level, the level of heart and eyes and hands, where the danger is especially insidious, and much less detectable--in the midst of our busy, unreflecting life. The human heart, 1 believe, is essentially religious, with desires and Iongings for an interpersonal intimacy that far exceed anything and everything that is of this world. And often, by God's grace, a resentful, depressing frustration results when our hearts' settle for less than all that they are made for. But the sensationally sensual immediacy of much of the affective revolution occt~rring in our world can fixate our hearts and distract them from a reverential love of God.6 As the techno-logical explosion more and more shapes our world, and as we, often rightly, professionally train for work that is more secular, there can be less talk and reference to what should also be religious, even overtly religious. Letters, conversa-tions, sometimes, even, participation in religious ceremonies cease to involve any personal religious expression. 1 do not mean to imply here that religious faith is adequately, or even chiefly, measured by overt God-talk. But to keep the basic faith relationship of our hearts alive and growing, we surely need more than academic precision and culturally sophisticated reserve whenexpressing our faith. Faith, as a deep vision of heart, must be regularly expressed with appropriate personal devotion and affection. Otherwise, the vision and personal relationship of faith will, at minimum, lose any serious motivational force for our lives. It may even become something we are actually ashamed of. And when this happens, when our life of faith and devotion becomes entirely privatized, it can escape into a ~Coleman, art. cir. p. 605, citing Guy E. Swanson, "Modern Secularity," in Cutler, op. cir., pp. 803.-04. 6See Review for Religious, March, 1981, my article referred to above (footnote I), pp. 235-238. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World childish, uncritical pietism, because so rarely shared with anyone. But there is a third, more ominous possibility, Our faith, from lack of expres-sion, from lack of embodiment, may actually die. This is obviously serious, ,and it is often final, when a person's love relationship with God in Jesus loses all power, all effect in furthering a Father's loving justice in our oppressively unjust world. And there is nothing theoretical in this very inadequate thumbnail sketch. Are there readers who have not watched, in themselves or in a friend, as faith weak-ened, the movement from a growing silence regarding faith to an indifference or even an aggressive criticism, until every expression of faith has become uncomfort-able and unwelcome? Then, faith no longer plays a role either in choosing or in evaluating action. In a rapidly secularizing world, the possibility is very real that faith may harden into a cold, polite, sophisticated, professional stance to life, with very little warmly affective religious expression. But we always need to talk about our beloved with others, to keep the love affair alive and growing and to let it influence others. Appropriate personal expressions of our faith will usually serve the Holy Spirit's inspiration of others. And therefore Christian communities of every kind, whether in religious life, or the family, or the parish, become increasingly more valuable as supports of shared religious vision and experience within a world tending more and more to secularism. How can we avoid the ultimate denial of Christian faith that secularism is? One terribly important means is surely that ongoing faith experience which knows, and seeks to experience God as beyond and greater than all the world. We who can so easily shrink God and conveniently fit him into our small universe have Jesus himself, in his experience of his Father, as our example in this matter. As he came to know Yahweh of the Old Testament in his own growing Abba experience, Jesus related most personally to a God whose life and love neither depended on nor were equal to this world, though (and here is the adventure of it) Jesus himself was that Father's inextricable involvement in love with this world. His commitment to a God so far transcending, though intimately involved within, this world is dramati-cally revealed in Jesus' Calvary experience of finding a resurrection of lif~ and love (his Father) in his very worldly, earthly dying. There was Someone worth dying for. And so, a cruelly absurd death is rendered beautiful to us and encouraging for our own life and death in this world, in what it reveals of a fullness and presence of life and love that is, in a sense, beyond any experience here and now, but yet which is finally available to all of us in Jesus, our Father's kept promise of intimate hope. But how do we experience, before death, the Father of Jesus in his transcend-ence beyond this world?For some, it is available in the dramatic, peak experience of crisis, when choice is both forced and offered between the consolation of a God greater than this world's absurdity and--nothing. In the critical moment when all of this world seems absurd and inimical, loving surrender to a God greater than all of this and whose love conquers all averts ultimate despair and destruction. People led through this experience learn to root their faith more deeply in God than ever before. Born again, they learn to see the world very seriously, and as much more 19~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 valuable and precious than ever before, because it is the stuff of a beloved Father's kingdom. Not all are called to, or allowed, such a crisis. But this fundamental and essential experience of God is not available only through crisis. It is, at base, a contemplative experience, a conversion experience, of God which is available to every believer. Nevertheless, as Paul describes in Rm 6: I-I I, and whether it occurs in a resounding'crisis or in a quiet, secret, outwardly ordinary transformation, it does involve sharing Jesus' death to this world, in order to live for God. There is a choice. And we do make it, whether suddenly or over time~ Either God, or the world~ In being attracted to the choice of God above the world, one then', of course, can find and live with God, and for God, within the world.7 And then. the apostle is in sight: the one who, having chosen God and not the world, is now available to be called by God, sent by God. to serve the world. God's world, the world God loved so much he sent his only Son. Through this experience, then, whether critically peak or not, but genuinely assimilated, we learn neither to take the world too seriously nor to take it lightly, either. A heart stretched by such an experience of God is simply not susceptible to an involvement in this world such that this world seems to be its own and our ultimate meaning and justification. For this is secularism pure and simple: no God, really: but if acknowledged at all. a God locked into this world. Jesus in all his serious concern for this world was never involved as though it were all he had. His identity center was never in this world, but in his Father: in his dear Father, whose love was greater than life itself/This was what kept Jesus energetically free in his life in this world, for this world. And so, too, for any disciple of Jesus. This experience of God beyond this world, which is meant to identify all of us in baptism, also prevents a seriously unchristian making light of this world. An excessive dichotomy between heaven and earth can lead people to long for the former and tend almost to view this earth as valueless, or, at best, as dangerous distraction. Such a lack of serious concern for this world can never result from an authentic experience of Jesus' Father, but only from a failure to appreciate another aspect of Jesus' Calvary experience--his own embodiment of his Father's love and care for us sinners in this, however sinful, immensely beautiful and precious world. Jesus is not someone irresponsibly unconcerned with this world, but neither is he someone so in love with this world that his freedom and ultimate identity are limited to it. Rather, his centeris always a dear Father who is a source of all his worldly love and life. This special religious experience, of having our identity in a God beyond the world while being actively involved in it, is no once-in-a-lifetime experience. It is 7To speak of God above the world is, of course, not to make a spatial delineation. Rather, it is to speak of a God whose being and love isfar greater than this world. In .In 12:3Z .Iesus's words remind us that ultimately we are attracted ("seduced~ is the Old Testament word) to this experience of God. it is not simply our own, Pelagian choice. 8Ps 63:3. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing Worm / 193 rather a lifetime process renewing, deepening, remembering and repeating our God-in-Christ experience. We must recognize the means God sends into our lives to renew this central, identifying experience. We must also find regular (daily?) habits that assist to renew this central focus of our heart's vision. Together with many service situations each day, liturgy, a healthy practice of mortification, and formal praye'r can be regular reminders of a Father whose love and care for all of us point far beyond'the transitory world to a fullness of Spirit still gifting a dying Son's trust. The final beauty for us and for our world, God himself, not only shatters any narrow secularism, but invests our proper apostolic concern and action in the world with a paschal force which labors joyfully that everything may belong to Christ, who shall hand all things over to the Father, that God may be all in all? Against this background of a strong secularizing tendency in our world today, I will now treat a number of other trends and issues on the American spiritual scene. Some of these concerns are more directly affected than others by our secularizing world; But all of them, in my judgment, are susceptible to its influence. Related Trends and Issues 1. A Sacred-Secular Split A division of our world into sacred and secular is one of the chief tendencies of secularization. Father Philip Murnibn recently told the Catholic Theological Society of America that "we are experiencing (a) disaffection from faith and Church and a separation of private Church life from public social life that is the main feature of secularization."~° Many call for a political theology which would heal this split and bring the gospel more to bear on the persons and institutions of our unjust, sinful world. Such a view rightly understands that to theologize and to practice spirituality without a passionate concern for the specifics of our world only exacerbates the sacred-secular split and that the approach is, in any event, unchristian. But conversely, any merely external activity, however much on behalf of justice, is equally insufficient to heal this split wherever it exists, whether within an individual person or within a community. Any attempt at healing which ne-glects the split at the level of interior experience risks a fragile solution that will quickly slip into an unrooted, social externalism. Evangelization must aim deeply and broadly: it must essay healing the split deep within the individual human heart even as it confronts the systemic injustice in our society. Liberation theology needs to be rooted in a liberation spirituality for the individual believer.~l The silence and solitude, the healing purification and conversion of the encounter with God cannot be bypassed. Segundo Galilea articulates it exactly: '~See I Co 15:22-8. ~01n Origins, August 13, 1981, "The Unmet Challenges of Vatican I1," p. 148. ~Segundo Galilea, ~Liberation as an Encounter with Politics and Contemplation," in Claude Geffr6 and Gustavo Guttii:rez, eds., The Mystical and Political Dimension of the Christian Faith, New York, 1974, p. 20. 194 / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1982 Authentic Christian contemplation, passing through the desert, transforms contemplatives into prophets and heroes of commitment and militants into mystics. Christianity achieves the synthesis of the politician and the mystic, the militant and the contemplative, and abolishes the false antithesis between the religious-contemplatives and the militantly committed.~-' The ~bility to deal in faith with a wide range of inner affective experiences in our hearts makes possible finding God in every inner experience. In this way all human experience gradually becomes religious experience and culminates some-how in God, thus healing the split between experiences which are either overtly religious or secular. Without this inner integration in faith of a person's ongoing experience, political theology and spirituality are both Unroofed, just as the inner faith integration, if left to itself and without the outer word and action, becomes unreal and, finally impossible. A careful discernment of heart expressed in a passionate concern for individual evangelical issues and in a courageous loving presence to the.serious social issues of our world will avoid any unjust, unfaithful, secularistic dichotomy 2. Global Societal Values As we look to the future, there is an urgent summons to transcend overly personalistic, or, perhaps better, individualistic values. In the midst of a growing, democratic stress on the value of each human person, Vatican 11 took as one of its central foci the value of the person. In last year's survey, while affirming this value as utterly central to the Christian mystery, I nevertheless treated the danger to personalism of a subtle self-centeredness. And 1 suggested we might be ready for a more refined Christian personalism.~3 As we look forward now to the year 2.000, when global and societal problems will be, even more than today, an inescapable reality, our education and religious formation must be founded on global, on societal, values rather than on simply personalistic ones. Learning to cooperate, throughout both national and international society, will become, will have to become, more and more the truest meaning of personal fulfillment. And questions such as these will face us if we take such a global perspective: How do we take account of the millions of poor starving people in our world as we arbitrate labor disputes for excessively high salaries, whether we are talking of air-controllers or of baseball players? How do we overcome the natural tendency to get as much as one can for oneself, rather than to think of sharing with millions upon millions who have much less? We have a long way to go in this shift of value perspective before the year 2000. The heavily personalistic approach (really, it is better to say. individualistic) with its stress on self-fulfillment, will not convert and develop easily~to a global perspec-tive. The conversion involved here will be a new way of thinking. But it must go beyond that, to a change of heart. This global view will finally be shaped in experiences, carefully planned and reflected upon, as a complement to serious ~21bid. p. 28. ~3See art. cit. pp. 238-39. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World / 195 study. True Christian personalism, of course, which is not narrowly individualistic, has no need to renounce any of itself, but will find a ready ally and field for service in global, societal concerns. Indeed, Christian personalism will become fully itself only in a communal, universal perspective which incarnates that justice, love and peace which mark the kingdom of Jesus' Father. For most of us, the shift we speak of calls for a change of heart that must run deep, get radical and become a revolution in our sensibility. 3. Unity and Diversity On April 8, 1979, at an academic convocation in Cambridge, MA, Karl Rahner, attempting a theological interpretation of Vatican 11, claimed that this Council "is.the Church's first official gelf-actualization as a world Church."~4 And Rahner claims that as the Church takes this revelation of her global nature ever more seriously, there will necessarily develop a pluralism of proclamations of the one Good News for many new cultures in Asia, Africa, and other places. How shall we find a true unity of faith within such a pluralism, and without again reducing it to a Western, Roman, overly centralized uniformity? Philip Murnion, in commenting on the unmet challenges of Vatican 11, feels that: "It is now the basic ecclesiology of Vatican 11 that confronts us as we grow weary and dissatisfied with so many superficial expressions of this ecclesiology."~5 As this basic ecclesiology of a "world Church" begins to be realized in practice, the pluralis~m which we know already can only radically increase. And as we are very well aware, such rapidly growing diversification often brings in its wake confounding disorientation, highstrung tension, and even hostile, angry charges of disloyalty. The problem is, and will be faith: to seek, and to learn to recognize unity of faith within diversity. That said, however, we cannot simply float with an almost infinite variety, as though diversity, in and of itself, were pure value. Finally, both human intelligibility and Christian faith require a unity. But a unity underneath and within diversity is not always easy to perceive, especially when diversification is rapid and recent. In a time of great diversity, before a clear, profound and pervasive unity has been found, we must learn to live both honestly and charitably, and with inevitable tensions. But even as we are patient, we must also continue to search for, we must ambition and work for, that unity which wiil help us understand how diversity is a blessin~ how it enriches and does not enervate. Simply to settle for a tolerance of plurality is not healthy pluralism. Whether it be a matter of the forms of ministry or orders, or of women priests, of religious garb, of doctrinal expression, or of forms of Church membership, we must continue to grow toward a "coherent consensus that can serve as a basis for common and confident Catholic identity."16 t4Karl Rahner, S.J., Theological Studies, December, 1979, "Towards a Fundamental Theological Interpretation of Vatican II~ (Leo J. O'Donovan, S.J., tr.). p. 717. ~Murnion, Origins, August 13, 1981, loc. cit. ~61bid. p. 147. ~TSee Jn 17:22. 196 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 As we search for a deeper coherence and discerningly reflect on much experimen-tation, we must reverence one another and the intricacies of ecclesial authority and development. And the best way we reverence both one another and the issues is by sharing our beliefs as best we can, from deep within our hearts, in the confident hope that a God who is so joyously one, precisely in terms of his own lovely diversity, will guide us together and will help us to see the extent and limit of diversity so that we may be one even as Father, Son, and Spirit are one.~7 When looked at institutionally, the area of ministry may especially seem to reveal a diversifying revolution that verges on the chaotic.J8 We speak of"ministry" now, where before we would have said "apostolate" or, simply~ "work." Many believers, especially tho~e professionally trained, now speak of having a ministry. This explosion of ministries has unhooked the word, and permanently so, I should think, from a past, unambiguous relationship to ordination. Now, in word also, as always before in fact, it is not only priests who minister. And this great multiplica-tion of ministries through the 1970's is no mere matter of a word. It signals an underlying ideological shift regarding ministry in the Church.J9 Various studies are trying to expose this ideological shift,' so that it can be seen for all that it may mean for the future, then discussed and carefully experimented with~ before any long-term decisions are made. This development in ministry is very complicated and needs to be studied from many perspectives. Perhaps serious consideration of the renewed ecclesiology of Vatican II will help us appreciate the theological source for much of the develol~men~t regarding ministry in the Church. For if the Church is seriously perceived as mystery and not just as institution, as community and not only, or even primarily, as hierarchy, as mission and not just as haven of the saved, then much of the ministerial multiplication becomes not only intelligible, but rich and welcome.20 Hopefully, then, such study will gradually expose the underlying issue here, so that we can choose our future in a diversity expressive of a profound, commonly shared faith-unity, rather than be trapped in a future diversity which is only the bitter sign of the disunity of unconcerned or warring parties. 4. Spiritual Witness of Religious Life Part of the explanation of the great expansion of,ministries is the urgent sense of the countless challenges with which the modern world confronts the Church. There are so many opportunities, and there is so much to be done. And we have not the leisure to wait; time is runnin.g out. This urgent sense of ministerial opportunity and challenge is affecting religious Congregations in at least two different ways. Some groups, over the past few years, ~sSandra M. Schneiders, I.H.M., The Way, October, 1980, "Theological Trends: Ministry and Ordina-tion I." p. 291. ~gSee John A. Coleman, S.J., America. March 28, 1981, "The Future of Ministry,~ pp. 243-49. 20Schneiders, art. cir., pp. 290-299. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World / "197 have learned the futility of furious and relentless activity and are now involved in a serious, mature, realistic program of spiritual renewal. And they are doing this without any unrealistic or self-centered withdrawal from apostolic activity. But rather than trying to do as much as they "can," members are taking means and time to improve the prayerful quality of their presence and action in the world. Some leisure, to keep personal spirituality and humanity alive, is not seen as time wasted or selfishly spent, but is encouraged to provide the spiritual, faith motiva-tion requisite for a courageously loving and enlightened presence in the critical situations of our world. There are other religious congregations that would almost certainly not explicit-ly deny the necessity of serious spirituality to root serious ministry. But at the operative level, they at least seem so taken up with their difficult ministries that fatigue, often verging on burnout, prevents serious growth in prayer and in the inner resources for that personal love relationship with God which alone can motivate authentic apostolic service. In such Congregations, often there is not much specific encouragement from superiors and other leaders for prayer, for careful spiritual reflection, or for time taken for serious retreats alone with God. Members of these congregations sometimes look in vain for such encouragement, and they wonder at an apparent lack of appreciation for ongoing spiritual renewal. These groups are frequently grappling with the crucial issues of our age, and often with great courage. But they are also doing so, often, with an apparent lack of any realistic, informed and detailed concern for that inner life of the Spirit which keeps apostolic life prayerfully focused on Jesus' revelation of the kingdom of his Father. Within this significant, contemporary trend of religious congregations moving, not theoretically, but operatively, in two different directions, the issue is the subtle integration of the inner and outer, of prayer and ministry. I certainly have no wish or competence to sit in judgment on who attains this integration and who does not. Either of these two directions I have described can be exaggerated. Excessive care of spiritual practices can produce a "hothouse" pietism unconcerned with major issues in our world. And excessively busy activity in our secular world, without sufficient spiritual resources--and taking the time for this---can burn out faith and a prayerful spirit, in a way that does not further the kingdom. As we confront the fact that ministry is not a matter of staying as busy as possible, we can be led to the deeper~ more subtle issue of a careful concern for the quality of our action, a quality determined by the graced availability of our hearts and wills to God in all we do. We will struggle with the fluctuating mixture in our conscious-ness of grace and sinfulness, of consolation and desolation, and see how seriously related it all is to our service. An actively apostolic spirituality, never a matter of simple busy activity, is as much a matter of this inner quality of heart expressed in a special human faith presence as it is a matter of courageous activity and service for God's people. As this is more appreciated, the groups now moving in the two directions I've sketched above will not judge or belittle one another. No, the3/will increasingly cooperate in diverse ministries, through a shared and prayerful faith. A related trend here concerns the role and understanding of formal prayer in 1911 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 serious spiritual growth and in mature ministry. Obviously, mature ministry is impossible without mature prayer. Here, I do not simply equate formal prayer and mature prayer. By no means. The latter term stretches far beyond the practice of formal prayer, into a whole life of prayer, but only so, 1 suspect~ because of an appropriately regular practice of formal contemplation. Without regular, formal contemplation, a mature, prayerful life in ministry does not seem possible. Most serious believers 1 consult and listen to, in the course of many travels and work-shops, would readily agree with this. But many would then squirm a bit, perhaps, as they reflect on their own practice of formal prayer. 1 sense some widely divergent understandings today of"regular formal prayer." Without wanting to suggest any uniformity for all, let me pose some questions that may help us candidly face the issues in this trend. To practice regular formal prayer, does a person need a specific, daily expectation of length and time, rather than leaving it simply to daily spontaneity? Does this daily expectation or ideal then leave one open to days when God "excuses" one for various reasons (his), thus preventing the ideal from becoming ironclad and causing guilt? ls formal prayer always somehow a withdrawal from activity into the intimate solitude of our hearts to be with God there? Is praying formally once or twice a week what is usually meant by "regular" for a mature believer? Is it a different type and quality of prayer that one is capable of when one prays for thirty rather than ten minutes (without letting prayer become too, clock-oriented, like a prayerwheel)? Even in the case of quite advanced spiritual persons, is the disappearance of regular formal prayer, for at least thirty minutes, a bad, or at least very questionable, sign? I think individuals and whole religious communities must give serious thought to ques-tions such as these before they too hastily agree again, even in very beautiful words, how important formal prayer is for busy apostolic lives. I am not entirely sure what reaction these questions may call forth from various people. But 1 do sense a growing desire among religious and others to be more prayerful and to be more honest about the whole question of what it means to pray, and of the necessity of praying if one wishes to be prayerful. Many look for clear, specific guidance and encouragement in this matter. And this desire to grow in the practice of formal prayer, as a means toa life of prayer and service, is no monastic aberration for an active person. I sense we can be carefully more demanding of one i~nother in this area, after a period of vague, rather general guidelines which reacted to some past inflexible, detailed programs of prayer. How these questions about regular formal prayer can be answered by busy parents with small children at home must also be investigated. Though in general their spiritual ideal and program must be different from that of religious and priests, it is still not at all clear that they are incapable of some realistic, regular practice of formal prayer. Without proposing any seminary or convent style of spirituality for busy parents, we must not downplay either their desire for prayer, even at the cost of sacrifice, or the necessary interplay of protracted regular prayer and a developing life of prayer. But much more experimentation and study must be done on the adaptations appropriate to these people, but adaptations which will Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World / 199 not trivialize the often significant spiritual capabilities and desires of these lay men and women. 5. Religious Life: Life in Community Another trend seems also to be moving the understanding of religious life in two quite different directions. Is religious life now, and will it continue to be, life lived in community? Once again, more operatively than theoretically, there seem to be congregations that respond yes to the question, though they may understand "living in community" in various ways. And there are certainly congregations that, at least in the way they act, would clearly seem to be answering no to community life as a necessary element of religious life. Some congregations see the profound unity of the whole group as springing essentially from that shared experience of "being sent" which integrates religious authority, obedience and mission into one life and call.2~ This profound sense of community in mission is then incarnated in each and every person's living some-how as a member of a local community, with exceptions occurring only because of the necessities of geography or the nature of the particular ministry. In this way there is a clear incarnation of the belief that a member's heart is given over completely to God and his people, but it is given to God and it is given apostoli-cally precisely through belonging fully to this specific congregation. In this under-standing, apostolic community is not an end in itself, but it certainly is a continually essential means to ministry and service and thus is an essential aspect both of religious identity and of apostolic action. In other congregations, life in community seems experienced and desired and chosen as much less essential and pervasive in the group. And these groups are often composed of competently trained, talented, generous people. But their apos-tolic service seems more an individual concern. They are often found either living alone or, when they live together, they seem to do so more as a matter of conven-ience and/or compatibility than as anything required to express their identity. They often live the vows seriously and carefully, though where ministry is not an experience of "being sent," there would seem to be difficult questions about genuine religious obedience.22 Operatively, whatever the theoretieal aspects may be, there seems to be a different view of religious life here--something more akin to what we have traditionally understood a secular institute to be. The issue, it seems to me, is whether these two clearly differing developments are also contradictory and therefore unable to be seen as authentic variants of one reality: religious life as understood and lived in the Church. Will we continue to see religious life as life in community, which has seemed to be one of its essentials since :~See my article. "Prayer. Mission and Obedience." The Way Supplement, No. 37. Spring. 1980. pp. 50-57. 221bid., p. 55. 20{I / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 Pachomius organized eastern monasticism? It is important not to see community here as simply a geographical, local matter. That is an important meaning, but it is not the first nor is it the essential meaning of religious community life. Rather, vowed community life is fundamentally a profound union and communion in mission, a sense of the corporate, which indeed ordinarily is incarnated in a shared local setting of life and faith. Even now there can be tension and friction between groups of these two very diffe~'ent understandings of religious commitment. And I am not sure that the issue would not become serious enough in the future to cause a break and division in our understanding of religious life. A major superior recently told me that she expected, after the relative peace and the low number of departures during the end of the 70's, that the early 80's would bring more upheaval and departures--but all leading to something deep and good, something more gospel-based. So there may be radical purification again! And a sizable part of this upheaval may well concern the precisely com-munal dimension of our lives as religious. People may leave either because of a desire for more shared life and faith than a particular group has to offer, or conversely, they may leave because of a loss of aptitude or affection for celibate religious living after years of individualistic living and working. In congregations committed to a healthy, contemporary sense of communal living, there is another issue developing: a growing need for leadership on the local level. Groups, in and of themselves, still seem to find it very difficult to make decisions. Rather, they often haggle over each side of a question and often cannot move ahead. Beyond the role of a provincial superior and counselor, a local leader seems needed, a leader who listens, who values the communal and the collegial, but one who is able also compassionately to confront and to call individual members to be honest and prayerfully discerning about their lives, ministries and vocations. Leaders, then, are needed who are willing to accept the burden and service of authority. Without the encouragement of such a leader on the scene, honest, prayerful discernment about serious issues frequently does not happen. Provincials know how often they are confronted with the fair accompli in serious vocational decisions that have had very little consultation and prayerful discern-ment behind them. Mature, competent, professional adults, overly involved in our secular world, often need this careful but honest dialogue, if they are to stay in touch with, and live out, their_deepest, truest desires in faith. But as provincials know, it is very difficult to find men and women of this leadership caliber, mefi and women both suited and willing to be facilitators and leaders of local community life. And of course there remain in some members authoritarian hangovers which militate against this move toward better community living. Another angle of this issue concerns younger members' entering religious life. Because of the serious decrease of members in the past decade, there is generally a real age gap developing between members who are about ten years professed and novices or temporary professed, who now face the prospect of joining for life. Can such young persons live and serve with members decidedly older than themselves? Can they live without much peer support? This is an issue which, in its detail and Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World developments and implications, is quite different from anything most of us had to face years ago as we entered religious life. Today, the decision for final profession, for such young religious, will require a strong sense of vocation indeed, a sense of vocation that is rooted in a special inner psychic strength and in a quite different type of trust in God than was asked for in the past. This sense of vocation and commitment must, finally, be rooted deeply in the inner solitude of the individual heart, where God's call continues to resonate deeply and very lovingly. Now the motivation must run palpably deeper than any horizontal peer support. The com-munity dimension of our vocation, important as it is, can never replace the unique-ness of a vocation rooted in the experience of solitude alone with God in one's heart. In many ways, today we are being called back to this rooting of the religious vocation in God--in and through, of course, but also far beyond the personal fulfillment of shared support and affirmation. As Ps 73 says of him: "you are.the future that waits for me.ms All these different aspects of this trend concerning community and religious life finally issue forth with decided impact on the level of felt membership. Today, unless one is a major superior or has been chosen for some other special responsi-bility in the congregation, the felt sense of belonging may grow dim. So many religious today, whether it be their own responsibility or that of others, fe~l dis-connected, left out. In past times, th

Issue 52.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1993. ; frOe i g,i ous Christian Heritages and Contempora~ Living MAY-JUNE 1993 ¯ VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 3 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University. by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ FAX: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1993 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolsld Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~n Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1993 * VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 3 contents 326 feature Prophecy or Restorationism in Religious Life Gerald A. Arbuckle SM describes the effects of the prophetic and the restorationist movements on religious life. 340 350 witnessing Would That All Were Prophets~ Dianne Bergant CSA examines the 'meaning of prophecy in the life of religious congregations. Committed Christian Secularity Paul J. Philibert OP explores some areas of development for those called to the life of the secular institute. prayer and direction 364 Liturgy of the Hours: A Reflection Suzanne Zuercher OSB finds that the ritual praying of the Liturgy of the Hours manifests what monastic life is and needs to remain. 371 380 Get Serious! The Monastic Condemnation of Laughter Kenneth C. Russell suggests some ways for us to understand and give modern application to the monastic attitude towards laughter. A Mystical Moment: Spiritual Direction and the Adolescent Fred Herron highlights aspects of spiritual direction in the con-text of adolescent development. 322 Review for Religious 39O 418 428 432 446 454 religious leadership Religious-Leadership Competencies David Nygren CM and Miriam Ukeritis CSJ report on skills and characteristics which mark superior performance for contemporary religious leaders. Some Ruminations on the Identity of Religious David F. O'Connor ST reviews the current identity issues around religious life. An Identity Dilemma: Standing with the Poor Patricia McCann RSM focuses the question about a gap between the espoused ideal and the reality of standing with the poor in religious life and ministry. ~ living gospel values Poverty as the Embrace of Insecurity Richard J. De Maria CFC stresses that the insecurity of poverty in some form remains essential to religious life. Men Vowed and Sexual: Conversations about Celibate Chastity Selin D. Sammon ~MS and Judith Ann Zielinski OSF describe a project sponsored by the Conference of Major Superiors of Men to enhance the living of celibate chaste life by vowed men. A Story of Addiction and Co-Addiction William F. Kraft tells a story of how the problems of addiction and co-addiction can be signs of contradiction that lead to new and better living departments 324 Prisms 462 Canonical Counsel: Common Life and Houses 469 Book Reviews May-.~une 1993 323 prisms ~edo not talk much about "working at the virtuous life." Perhaps the Pelagian inference--that "working at it" is enough, all by itself---keeps us suspi-cious of such talk. Maybe we are reluctant to admit explic-itly that virtue is on our list of outmoded things. There is also the possibility, even the likelihood, that some people strong in virtue have offended us in some way. "Nice" people may be easier to live with and less offensive than people imbued with courage or fired up for justice' sake. But Jesus demands more of his followers than that they be nice. Christians in every age need to work at the vir-tuous life. Recently in North America the news media have made much of various accusations or admissions of sexual mis-conduct by bishops, priests, and religious. The result is that the leadership in the local church and in religious congregations has had the painful, but necessary, task of coming to terms with a difficult and disturbing situation. What becomes evident to those living the consecrated life is that celibate chastity is not only something which we can "lose," but also something to be worked at: that only through a lifetime effort does one grow in chastity and love. Various programs like Marriage Encounter and the Christian Family Movement and Teams of Our Lady have long stressed how couples need to Work at their marital chastity if they are going to deepen their love and grow to be ever more faithful to each other. In a similar way, through some painful reminders today, both men and 324 Review for Religious women in celibate commitment are being called to make the effort they need to make if they are to grow as loving celibate people. In the scholastic theology of St. Thomas Aquinas we are taught the meaning of the virtues of the Christian life through his masterly explanation of habit. It would be interpreting Thomas fairly to bring our commonsense thinking about acquiring a habit to our understanding of his insight into acquiring--"working at"--virtue. Without denying the primacy of grace, especially experienced in the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, we need to put forth the human effort to make those qualities more deeply our own. Theological developments since Vatican II have stressed that, just as conversion is continual in a Christian's life, so too growth in virtue is never finished--nor can either of these occur in iso-lation; they demand the presence of the faith community. Similarly, we now see even more clearly that virtue, like conver-sion, is never a private matter but impacts the public and social sphere. Our very working at virtue gives force to our evangeliz-ing efforts in our families, communi.ties, and workplaces. As a case in point, then, there are recent efforts being made to ~work at celibate chastity within a community setting and not in isolation. As married people have discovered in their various Christian family organizations, it is within the faith community that growth in virtue finds its support and that marriage and fam-ily values are witnessed to and witnessed. "'Men Vowed and Sexual," a project sponsored by the U.S. Conference of Major Superiors of Men and reported on in this issue, is one way to achieve a com-munity setting of support and understanding for the celibate chaste development of individuals. In another effort to assist those who are committed to the tasks of spiritual formation, the Christian Institute for the Study of Human Sexuality has been announced by the staff of theJesuit Educational Center for Human Development. Along 0¢ith the primacy of the grace of God and continuing individual effort, such community projects point the way for all of us to "work at" virtue today. David L. Fleming SJ May-June 1993 325 feature GERALD A. ARBUCKLE Prophecy or Restorationism in Religious Life "Turmoil is going to break out among your tribes." --Hosea 10:14 Anthropologically a tribe is a gathering "of bands., hav-ing a feeling of unity deriving from numerous similarities in culture, frequent friendly contacts, and a certain com-munity of interest.''1 By this definition religious life before Vatican II was one tribe consisting of many bands or clans (congregations) bound together despite their individual differences by a common belief in the nature and purpose of religious life. Now this tribal oneness no longer exists. Today, instead of clans within one tribe, we have many dif-ferent tribes that do not share a common vision of reli-gious life. Even within the same congregation there can be several different tribes, each claiming that it alone is authentically interpreting religious life and the original founding congregational vision. Communication across the boundaries of these reli-gious- life tribes may be poor, as is commonly the case between different ethnic groups at any time in human society. Each tribe, says anthropologist Edward Hall, usu-ally takes the position of "thinking and feeling that any-one whose behavior is not predictable or is peculiar in any way is slightly out of his mind, improperly brought up, irresponsible, psychopathic, politically motivated to a point Gerald A. Arbuckle SM continues to write, lecture, and con-duct workshops on the refounding of religious life. His address is Refounding and Pastoral Development Unit; 1 Mary Street; Hunters Hill; Sydney, N.S.W. 2110; Australia. 326 Review for Religious beyond redemption, or just plan inferior.''2 This rather blunt (but generally accurate) statement of tribal ethnocentrism describes the strong prejudice-founded belief that my tribe is the center of everything, and all other groups or tribes are scaled and rated with reference to it. Unfortunately, the way some religious tribes within contemporary religious life at times view other groups-- with hostility and self-righteous intolerance--is not unlike Hall's description. Sometimes. religious-life tribes agree to co-exist side-by- side with apparent harmony; peace is maintained because they agree at least tacitly not to raise their significant differences over the m~aning of religious life. They deny or suppress the differ-ences lest exhausting tensions erupt openly. Dialogue, which demands an op.enness to the other and to the possibility of change, is difficult in these circumstances--even impossible. This article has a twofold function: first, to summarize why one religious-life tribe has fragmented into many different tribes or quasi-ethnic groups since Vatican II; and second, to describe the significant qualities of these tribal groups. From Tribe to Tribes in Religious Life Religious Life: Founding Myth Undermined. The founding myth .of religious life historically evolved wheri people began to gather together to live the radical values of the gospel, to devote, them-selves totally to the person of Christ and his kingdom values. The major mo;vements (monastic, conventual, and apostolic) were prophetic reactions to abuses or corruption of power within the church and society at large. Prophetic action is thus integral to the founding stoW of religious life. Johannes Metz correctly asserts that religious communities must be "a kind of shock therapy" challenging the church to live the fullness of Christ's message. "Against the dangerous accommodations and questionable com-promises that the church . . . can always incline to," he writes, "they press for the uncompromising nature of the gospel and of the imitation of Christ.''3 Myths bind people together with a common vision. They are value-impregnated beliefs and notions, born in sacred time and space, that people live by and live for; at the level of the culture they are primarily unconscious, powerful in their influence, and partic-ularly difficult for people to articulate objectively except in stoW form or by describing the life histories of their culture's heroes or May-a~une 1993 327 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism: heroines. In reality people adhere to relatively few archetypal myths, of which the conspiratorial enemy and the all-powerful hero-liberator are central kinds. Myths provide a feeling of cer-tainty, direction, and trust rather than the paralysis, fear, or bewil- The council challenged religious to rediscover the prophetic heart of their ministry when it directed them back to the person of Christ, the founding experience of their own congregations,. and the apostolic needs of the world. derment that chaos--the opposite of order or the predictable--brings.* Over time, however, myths can drift away from their original message without people' being quite aware of what is happening. This in fact hap-pened to the founding myth of reli-gious life. In recent centuries religious life has lost its prophetic emphasis within the church and the world and has become based on three pivotal assumptionscontrary to its original founding vision: the world is funda-mentally evil and tobe avoided, reli-gious are the spiritual elite of the church, and their task is to be uncrit-ically supportive of the ecclesiastical and pastoral status quo.~ Vatican II dramatically under-mined these aberrant assumptions and the myth they sustained when it stated that the world is capable of redemption and the church must inter-act with it through a process of exchange/dialogue (that is, incul-turation). 6 Furthermore, all people--not only religiousware called to, and are capable of, holiness.7 Religious asChristians could no longer remove themselves from the concerns of the world, nor could they ever again consider themselves the spiritual elite of the church. Finally, the council challenged religious to rediscover the prophetic heart of their ministry when it directed them back to the person of Christ, the founding experience of their own congregations, and the apostolic needs of the world. The revi-talized founding myth was not neatly put together by the coun-cil and it would be a long time before religious could rediscover with confidence its authentic nature and implications. Reactions to Vatican Ih Conversionist and Restorationist Groups. It is a basic experience of anthropology that any interference with a founding story or myth of a group--even when fully justified (as 328 Review for Religious occurred at Vatican II) and intellectually assented to by the peo-ple involved--is catastrophic or chaotic at the level of identity, belonging, or feeling.8 A satisfying and interiorized myth is never re-created quicHy out of turmoil or chaos. The reaction to a dramatic mythological change, such as hap-pened to religious life at Vatican II, normally follows a fairly pre-dictable pattern. First, there is an effort to control initial unease or anxiety through legislative or structural changes so that an anxiety-reducing order can once again emerge, but political or legislative action alone is ineffective without an attitudinal open-ness to an as yet unformulated new myth. The phase of chaos follows; neither traditional support systems nor mere structural changes provide the needed sense of direction and belonging. Symptoms of depression--such as anger, numbness, "lostness," feuding, denial, sadness, witch-hunting to assign blame for the chaos--emerge within the group or in individuals. As the chaos persists, people are apt to turn to one of two options: either conversionist or escapist movements. Leaders of these movements have the charismatic ability of articulating appropriate visions and strategies to achieve them. Conversionist movements develop when people recognize that the way to change is not by nostalgically and uncritically returning to a former cul-tural stage but by struggling to relate to an entirely different ambience. The building of a new founding myth is painful, demanding courage to let go the past, the willingness to walk in the darkness of uncertainty and ambiguity, waiting, creating and testing new ways of acting adapted to the changing circumstances. No sudden solution to the malaise of the chaos is possible.9 Commonly many people cannot cope with the darkness and uncertainty demanded by the conversionist approach. They seek the escapist option with its fundamentalist and simplistic remedies to the confusion. Fundamentalistic or sect movements are com-mon today within Islam, Judaism, and Christianity and in the arena of politics just as they have always been in times of dra-matic social or cultural changes. They take various forms. For example, some are millenarianl° as they promise a dramatic and imminent appearance of a world of meaning and belonging to their disoriented followers, on condition they commit themselves without question to simplistic and authoritarian-led actions. The popularity of these fundamentalist movements today~ testifies to the extent and depth of the cultural upheaval through- May-3~ne 1993 329 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism Restorationism is the vigorous effort to return the church uncritically to the pre-Vatican II structures, practices, and attitudes. out the world in reaction to the speed and radicality of contem-porary technological; social, and economic changes. Patrick Arnold's definition of fundamentalism is particularly apt: it is "an aggressive and marginalized religious movement which, in reac-tion to the perceived threat of moder-nity, seeks to return its home religion and nation to traditional orthodox prin-ciples, values, and texts through the co-option of the central executive and legislative power of both the religion itself and the modern national state.''t2 This definition highlights the emphasis that fundamentalists place on the role of civil and religious governments to coerce people to accept their beliefs. James Hunter sees fundamentalist movements as "characterized, to varying degrees, by a quality of organized anger." They aggressively want to make history right again.13 Intellectual arguments will not convert people away from fundamental-ism because fundamentalism is a reaction to a loss of felt belong-ing, not necessarily to inadequate intellectual reasoning. Fundamentalist movements form an increasingly strident, intolerant, and powerful force within the Catholic Church today, indicative of the extent of the chaotic upheaval sparked off by such forces as Vatican II and the opening 0f the church to a world caught up in its own tumultuous change--the revolution of expressive disorder of the 1960s and early 1970s.14 These restora-tionist movements demand that the church return to its pre- Vatican II culture with its patriarchal, dependency, and authoritarian models of leadership. Whoever dares to question what fundamentalists do are branded as contemporary "witches" who are out to undermine in a conspiratorial way what restora-tionists define as orthodoxy. In brief, restorationism is the vig-orous effort to return the church uncritica'lly to the pre-Vatican II structures, practices, and attitudes. (I say "uncritically" because there are some key pre-Vatican II values that need to be revital-iz. ed, for example, a respect for a living tradition.) Restorationism is an abuse of power because key values of Vatican II--for exam-ple, collegiality, the call to inculturate the faith within local 330 Review for Religious churches--are either rejected or undervalued. Like Thomas the Apostle, fundamentalist or restorationist Catholics earnestly seek clear-cut signs of the presence of the Lord: "Unless I can see the holes that the nails made in his hands and can put my finger into the holes they made, and unless I can put my hand into his side, I refuse to believe" (Jn 20:25). Contemporary Religious Life: Tribal Models .With the disintegration of the then prevailing founding myth of religious life, in addition to the other upheavals consequent on Vatican II, religious today are torn between the enticements of fundamentalist or restorationist solutions to the chaos they expe-rience and the painful requirements of the call to radical conver-sion. Those opting for the latter take to heart the words of Christ to Thomas: "Blessed are those who hav~ not seen and yet believe" (Jn 20:29). They recognize that the church (and religious life) is in the liminality stage of a crucial rite of passage--the pre-Vatican II church has yet to be let go and the new to be confidently cre-ated based on Vatican II values. It is a time of pain, lament, and hope. Prophets and prophetic movements are needed to create the "pastoral quantum-leaps" necessary to bring the gospel into interaction with the most.urgent needs of today--secularism and political/economic oppression for example.~s The following tribal models of contemporary religious life fall within what I will call "escapist" or "conversionist" categories. By "escapist" I mean that religious tribes within this category avoid in various ways the struggle to return to the original found-ing myth of religious life--that is, the prophetic challenging of the church and the world. "Conversionist" tribes, however, struggle to live this challenge. My purpose in offering these categories and models is to help clarify an increasingly c.omplex situation within religious life; it is not my aim to judge the subjective moti-vations of individual religious. Finally, a word of warning about the use of models. An anthro-pological model is not a perfect representation of the real world. Rather, a model is very much a necessary research construct to facilitate a better understanding of very complex situations. A model reflects reality to the extent that it highlights certain emphases or trends. For the sake of clarity unnecessary details are omitted. A situation can then be researched to discover just May-J~ne 1993 331 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism how far it diverges from or conforms to the model. In practice one will rarely find in real life a perfect embodiment of a model; par-ticular qualities of many models will tend to be present, but the characteristics of one model will predominate over others. A model is not a caricature since the latter is a deliberately inaccu-rate representation of reality for comic effect; No one expects a caricature to be modified in the light of reality.~6 Category 1: "Escapist" Religious-Life Tribes The Nativistic Tribal Model. Tribal leaders claim that the unquestioning return to the symbols (for example, religious garb), myths, and rituals of.religious life before Vatican II will in some magical way resolve the loss of meaning or relevance among reli-gious. Fundamentalist and sect-like tribes that approximate to this model fanatically assume "we have the truth and the pope is on our side," yet, like all Catholic fundamentalists, they selectively read ecclesial documents to support their position and rather thoroughly ignore the social teaching of the popes. These com-munities withdraw from the "contaminating world" (which they look upon with considerable doom and gloom), refuse all dia-logue with their opponents, and avoid any critique of restora-tionism in the church. In fact, they are zealous supporters of ecclesiastical restorationism. Prayer is stressed, but only the pre- Vatican II forms that highlight a personal or privatized holiness removed from the world's concerns. They cultivate, as the Puebla document says, "a spirituality of evasion.''~7 Candidates are encouraged to join, but screening and training programs are inadequate for the demands of today's apostolic work. The more who join, the more certain nativistic tribes are that God loves them. In brief, they place the survival of their con-gregation over their commitment to the full mission of the church. The Conservative Tribal Model. In the conservative model, lead-ers are moved by the numerical success of sect-like and restora-tionist lay movements within the contemporary church; they uncritically encourage the return to pre-Vatican II traditions-- for example, quasimonastic structures for apostolic communities, traditional religious habits, and pious customs--but with less fanaticism than nativistic leaders. Souls are to be converted to the Lord, compassion shown to the poor, but the faith/justice 3 3 2 Review for Religious apostolates are to be avoided as irrelevant and dangerous to one's consecrated vocation. Conformist-oriented candidates are encour-aged to join these tribes, particularly if they have above-average needs for security and identity. Dependency and conformity are valued "virtues" in this model as in the previous one. New forms of prayer are allowed--as, for example, in the charismatic movement--provided they do not lead to involve-ment in the social-justice apostolate. Asceticism is an esteemed virtue, but within the narrow limits of the individual's journey to the Lord or as a way of encouraging him or her to submit to authority and the congregational status quo. Liberation theology and inculturation are considered dangerous "leftist" ideologies, and criticism of ecclesiastical restorationism is not considered necessary nor encouraged. The Millenarian Tribal Model. Millenarian movements immi-nently and dramatically expect the miraculous transformation of the world by supernatural methods. In millenarian religious tribal life, all forms of instant-holiness or inner-peace programs are .offered by tribal leaders--for example, encounter-group sessions, bodily relaxing techniques, immediate-union-with-God prayer sessions. Pastoral planning programs are formulated with the assurance that they will automatically lead to an increase in voca-tions. Often, as a sign of one's authentic conversion, in true mil-lenarian style religious indiscriminately discard as "old-fashioned" any reference to the past; thus, for example, the great spiritual traditions of Saints Teresa and John of the Cross are seen as of lit-tle or no value.Is Religious keep searching feverishly from one workshop to another for the "right leader, or spiritual/professional guru, to describe the latest way to inner peace and a firm sense of direc-tion" for themselves personally and their congregations. Try harder, they feel, and the correct miraculous technique will turn up eventually. Leaders and followers are so concerned about inner-peace and identity issues that ecclesiastical restorationism and the apostolic demands of the world are of little concern to them. The Therapeutic or "Me-istic" Tribal Model.19 In the previous tribal model, religious do have concern for the welfare of the group and its future, even though it be in an introverted way. However, group life and concern for its future are of minimal importance to the therapeutic tribal model. Tribal life is marked by individualism, excessive concern for self-fulfillment, and uncrit- May-a~une 1993 333 /trbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism ical acceptance of secular consumer or material standards. The group andits leaders exist solely to support the narcissistic, indi-vidualistic, and independent aspirations of its members. There is a paradox in this tribe: rampart individualism on the one hand and the desperate need for personal affirmation and support from other tribal members on the other. Individuals may undertake important apostolic work, but it is done with little or no reference to their religious tribal com-mitments or vision. In other words, the links between members and the corporate vision are so weak that the tribe is equivalently a social club; a typical attitude would be: "I remain in touch with my community only as long as it serves my needs." If restora-tionism is criticized, it is only because it is thought to be an obsta-cle to the pursuit of individualism and personal self-fulfillment. The prophetic corporate commitment of religious life within the church and the world has no meaning in this tribal model. The Neo-Conservative T~:ibal Model. Religious gather around leaders who were once fervent advocates of change, but have now become overly fearful of the chaos and the extremes of attempted adaptation programs they see around them. They believe that only slow, measured ox~ predictably safe apostolic adaptation to the world will achieve new expressions of religious life. Orderly pastoral planning becomes an ideology or an end in itself, not a condition for bold creative apostolic action in response to the most urgent pastoral needs of the world. There must be no diver-gences from the pastoral plan lest chaos erupt.2° "Risk is out, order is in" becomes axiomatic. It is assumed that revitalization can occur only if the whole community or congregation moves in response to agreed-to mis-sion statements and strategic pastoral planning. Intra-group ten-sions and conflict are to be avoided at all costs: "Let the province move when all are ready and willing to do so; otherwise no change is to be sanctioned." The sense of belonging to or affiliation with the congregation is viewed as more important than the struggle for the religious community to realize its primary task of prophetically challenging a secularizing world and the church. Creative religious who believe that chaos requires a more rad-ical linking between the gospel and cultures are marginalized or pressured out of the community since they threaten the group's desire for an orderly approach to refounding. The faith/justice apostolate is only lightly supported lest involvement in it disturb 334 Review for Religious the unity of the community. Any critique of restorationism is couched in unchallenging or vague tones for the same reason. The Radical Non-Conversion Tribal Model. These tribes are led by people who have a vision of a radical, social-justice program. However, because the faith values of religious life do not impinge on their consciousness, they see themselves only as social workers, activists, or enablers of others. Their view of the gospel is limited only to the procla-mation of forms of liberation. They do not see that their "contribution to lib-eration is incomplete if [they] neglect to proclaim salvation in Jesus Christ.''2t Tribal life in this model is very fragile; either people withdraw from religious life since it no longer has any meaning for them, or they remain, generally with bitterness against their congregation and the church, living The ultimate identity of religious comes from their faith in the person of Christ and his mission to the world, especially to the marginalized and powerless. highly individualistic lives, refusing any effort to work toward an authentic religious-life vision. There is an un-Gospel-like harsh-ness to their criticism of restorationism within the church. Category 2: Transformative/Refounding Tribal Model Tribes within this, category are transformative or prophetic communities recognizing that the only way out of the chaos is through radically new faith-justice, hope-inspired, corporate action in which the gospel message is directed to the most urgent needs of today. The ultimate identity of these religious tribes comes from their faith in the person of Christ and his mission to the world, especially to the marginalized and powerless. The chaos is seen in biblical and anthropological terms as potentially a graced experience--the chance to rethink the mission of religious life and the tribe's commitment to it. Hence, for exam-ple, these religious tribes struggle to be living witnesses to the radical demands of prayerful asceticism in opposition to the sym-bols of consumerism and "instant spirituality"; living witnesses to the virtue of hope in order to counter symbols that seek to May-ffune 1993 335 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism negate any redemptive and eschatological power of suffering; liv-ing witnesses to the need to dialogue with the world so as to counter the elitism/sectarianism of restorationist Catholicism; living witnesses through their lifestyle and attitudes to God's mercy, Jesus Christ, in concern for the alienated and the oppressed; living witnesses to vibrant community-life relation-ships founded on interdependence, mutuality, and faith sharing to counter the symbols of excessive individualism, abuse of author-ity/ power in society and in the church; living witnesses to a spir-ituality of involvement with the world, especially the powerless, to counter a spirituality of evasion.22 Through their imaginative, faith-oriented action they create a new founding myth of reli-gious life, a vision in which creative and prophetic action is an integral and primary quality. For these transformative tribes, it is Christ's mission that has priority, not the physical survival of the community. If they dis-cover it is God's will that they are to die, then they accept this as the chance to enter more deeply into the mystery of Christ's suf-fering and resurrection. Consequently, if people do ask to join these tribes, they are accepted only if there are well-founded hopes that these candidates have the demanding qualities of maturity to live and work on the prophetic edge of the church and the world. These communities foster within themselves prophetic or refounding persons who are able to relive within today's context the experience of the original congregational founding people. They are pained to see the void between the gospel and the needs of the world; so, like their original founding members, they move to create pastoral strategies to bridge this gulf. They, together with others in their communities, are dreamers who do. These are rest-less or liminal people in the sense that they are on the edge of what is considered to be the "correct or predictable" way of being reli-gious; they are prepared to critique everything according to gospel values. Not surprisingly, therefore, they and their communities evoke anxiety within tribal groups of category 1; their vision is too threatening so marginalization, tribulation, and suffering are their inevitable lot (as has commonly been the case with founding peo-ple of religious communities over the centuries).23 These apostolically risk-oriented leaders and prophetic tribes maintain their zeal only as long as they prayerfully admit to their own inner powerlessness without the grace of God. Once they allow their own attachment.s to the predicable to go, they repeat- 336 Review for Religious edly rediscover, as did the lamentation psalmists of old, that noth-ing is impossible to them through the mercy and love of the Lord.24 Restorationism is critiqued with a boldness of apostolic faith, love, and compassion because they take to heart the fact that "Christ summons the church., to that continual reforma-tion of which she always has need, insofar as she is an institution of [people] here on earth.''2s Conclusion In the centuries immediately before Vatican II, religious life had become a bastion of the unchanging status quo within the church. We even called it the "religious state." But by its origins it .was never intended to be something static, but an ongoing expe-rience of prophetically becoming in reaction to the ever-changing apostolic needs of the world. Once religious say they "have got it all together," then they have lost their passion for creative gospel life. Today, Paul VI said, the "split between the gospel and culture is without a doubt the drama of our time,''z6 so religious to be true to the original founding myth must be at the cutting edge of the gospel and culture. This is an inescapably agonizing experience, for it means cri-tiquing not just the world but also the church itsel~---a church in which the forces of restorationism are daily more visibly present. Religious life is in the stage that anthropologist Victor Turner terms liminality,27 that is, the betwixt-and-between stage; the unnecessary structural constraints of the former state of religious life have gone, and the reinvigorated founding story of prophetic action has yet to emerge with confidence. It is a stage rich in imaginative apostolic potential for the future. But it is also a dan-gerous phase for those religious who are excessively frightened of the darkness of uncertainty and ambiguity. They are tempted to flee into the false comforts of restorationism and to reengage uncritically the structures of pre-Vatican II religious life, seeing around them "nothing but prevarication and ruin"ZS--the defeatist attitude John XXIII warned us against. When this happens, these religious turn their backs on what is the most exciting and prophetically stimulating period for religious life in centuries. May-~une 1993 337 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism Notes ' R. Linton, The Study of Man: An Introduction (Appleton-Century- Crofts, 1936), p. 231. 2 Edward Hall, Beyond Culture (New York: Doubleday/Anchor, 1976), p. 43 3 Johannes Metz,F0110wers of Christ: The Religious Life and the Church (Exeter: Burns and Oates/New York: Paulist, 1978), p. 12; see also an analysis of the prophetic nature of religious life by D. O'Murchu, Religious Life: A Prophetic Vision (Notre Dame: Ave Maria, 1991). 4 See G. Arbuckle, Earthing the Gospel: An Inculturation Handbook for the Pastoral Worker (London: Geoffrey Chapman/Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1990), pp. 26-43; see also M. Eliade, The Myth of the Eternal Return (New York: Bollingen/Pantheon, 1954), chap. 1. s See Arbuckle, Out of Chaos: Refounding Religious Congregations (New York: Paulist/London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1988), pp. 68-77. 6 See "The Church in the Modern World," The Documents of Vatican II, ed. Walter Abbott (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1966), §44; for expla-nations see Arbuclde, Earthing the Gospel, pp. 15-20. 7 See "The Church," §40f. 8 See M. Douglas, Natural Symbols: Explorations in Cosmology (New York: Pantheon, 1970), p. 38. 9 See Arbuckle, Out of Chaos, pp. 14-28. ,0 See explanations by Norman Cohn, The Pursuit of the Millennium (New York: Oxford Un!versity, 1970). ~l For an overview of world fundamentalism see Concilium, no. 3, 1992. ¯ ,2 "Reemergence of Fundamentalism in the Catholic Church," in The Fundamentalist Phenomenon, ed. N. Cohen (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1990), p. 174. ~3 "Fundamentalism in Its Global Contours," ibid, p. 63. ,4 See overview of Catholic fundamentalism by T. O'Meara, Fundamentalism: A Catholic Perspective (New York: Paulist, 1990), passim, and Patrick Arnold, "The Rise of Catholic Fundamentalism," in America, 11 April 1987, pp. 298-302. *s See Arbuclde, Earthing the Gospel, pp. 187-220. ,6 For an analysis of the nature and usefulness of anthropological mod-els see L.C. Luzbetak, The Church and Cultures (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1988), pp. 135-139. ,7 Final Document, Conference of Latin American Bishops, 1979, § 826. ~8 See T. Merton, "Cargo Cults in the South Pacific," in America, vol. 121, no. 5, 1969, p. 96. ,9 See a fuller development by Arbuclde, "Suffocating Religious Life: A New Type Emerges," in The Way Supplement 65 (1989): 26-39. 338 Review for Religious 20 For insights into the dangers of overplanning see R. Stacey, Managing Chaos (London: Kogan Page, 1992), pp. 43f., 208. 2, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 1975, §47. zz See Arbuclde, Strategies for Growth in Religious Life (New York: Alba House, 1986), p. 41. 23 See J. Lozano, Foundresses, Founders, and Their Religious Families (Chicago: Claret, 1983), pp. 65-70. 24 See Arbuclde, Change, Grief and Renewal in the Church OgVestminster, Md.: Christian Classics, 1991), pp. 61-107. 2s "Decree on Ecumenism," Abbott, §6. 26 Ibid, §20. 27 See V. Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (New York: Aldine, 1969), p. 95. For a summary of Turner's insight into limi-nality see Arbuclde, Earthing the Gospel, pp. 74f. 28 "Open!ng Speech to the Council," Abbott, p. 712. Will He? Veils gone, Securities gone, "Respect" gone. Adulation and ~. Convent-mysteries All gone. Can I sing my Song of Songs to Him In the rags of who I really am ? Will He love me still? Without my baubles And my cover-ups, Will He still love me? Crushed in His arms, 0 wonder of it all! I came to know That, in my poverty, He loves me Twice as much! Maxine Inkel SL May-~'ane 1993 339 DIANNE BERGANT Would That All Were Prophets witnessing In 1989 the joint assembly of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (LCWR/CMSM) drew up ten charac-teristics of the "transformative" religious life of the future. The first of these, prophetic witness, is described as fol-lows: "Being converted by the example of Jesus and the values of the gospel, religious in the year 2010 will serve a prophetic role in church and society. Living this prophetic witness will include critiquing societal and eccle-sial values and structures, calling for systemic change, and being converted by the marginalized with whom we serve." The following reflections have been prompted by this statement. "Behold, I am doing a new tbing" (Is 43:19) Before we discuss prophetic witness, we should briefly consider prophetic insight: Why is prophetic insight needed? Where does it originate? Prophetic insight is born in times of crisis, in its basic Greek meaning of decision and not its popular-usage meaning of misfortune or distress. In a time of crisis, a community is at a turning point and needs some kind of decisive direction--or the community should be at a turning point but, failing to recognize this, needs someone to call it to repentance and reform, to conver- Dianne Bergant CSA presented the substance of this article in a talk to the chapter members of her congregation, the Sisters of St. Agnes. Her address is Catholic Theological Union: 5401 S. Cornell Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60615. 340 Review for Religious sion, to turning. But, of course, a community is not always at some kind of crossroads; and, if it is relatively faithful to its nature and ideals so that its members encourage and inspire each other, it may not need, for the time being, any distinct and indepen-dent prophetic insight. When prophetic insight is needed, where will it come from? One cannot casually assume it in oneself; not every member of the community is blessed with it. While it is the fruit of a very personal relationship with God, it includes perceptive insight into the reli-gious implications of "the signs of the times," an insight that calls for decision and usually for some kind of change. Prophetic insight is lit by the flame of passionate attachment to the religious tradi-tion. It is critical, not for the sake of being critical, but for the sake of the word of God. Illumined by this word, it perceives either the faithfulness of believers to their religious identity or a lessening or lack of this faith-fulness. It sees clearly what people should embrace within society in order to deepen their commitment to life and to God, and it sees what they should avoid. Prophetic insight assesses the values of contemporary society with eyes of discerning faith, recogniz-ing any distortions and, on the other hand, relating society's authentic values to their divine source. The biblical prophets did not call for change for the sake of change. They spoke out when they were convinced that their communities were in peril. They were often alone as they chal-lenged the institutions and practices that limited and sometimes shattered the lives of their communities. At times the threat fac-ing .their communities was evident to all. For example, King Ahaz was well aware of his predicament when Isaiah warned him against Assyrian entanglement (Is 7), as was King Zedekiah when Jeremiah spoke to him (Jr 27). At other times the threat was more insidi-ous, and the community seemed oblivious of its surrender to seductions that compromised its religious identity. We read that Amos condemned the Israelites for disregarding their covenant responsibilities in favor of material prosperity and that Hosea denounced the people of his day for yielding to the religious prac-tices of the Canaanites. The prophets seem always to have been Prophetic insight is lit by the flame of passionate attachment to the religious tradition. May-June 1993 341 Bergant ¯ IVould That All Were Prophets convinced that the situation had to change because it threatened the community's relationship with God. Prophetic insight and satisfaction with the status quo are seldom compatible. The prophets usually found themselves in conflict with offi-cial leaders. This was not because they disdained authority or authoritative organization, but because the leaders were respon-sible for public policy and for the social and religious structures that supported that policy. Therefore, when those in responsible positions failed to lead as the religious tradition directed them or when the policies and structures themselves created divisions of privilege or marginality, the prophets denounced the status quo and called the community to a new vision. They seldom, if ever, proposed specific new approaches to the problems. They were the visionaries, not the policy makers. They were the ones who called for a new society; others would work to fashion such a society in line with the prophetic insight. We must not confuse prophetic with apocalyptic, which also grows out of a dissatisfaction with the prevailing situation. Prophetic insight, whether it is reassuring people of divine com-passion and care or warning them of God's indignation and jus-tice, is fundamentally positive. It knows that human history with all its possibilities, challenges, and risks is the matrix within which the reign of God takes shape. Down amid social, economic, and political reality, such insight is neither ignorant of nor removed from the needs, aspirations, movements, and accomplishments of society, for it believes that it is within society that God is revealed. A genuine prophetic spirit is fashioned and enlivened by the ener-gies of the day. It is not a spirit of the past or, for that matter, of the future, but of the present. It knows that God is immanent and continually involved in the lives and history of people here and now. No event, no moment in time, is beyond the realm of God's activity. Authentic prophetic i,nsight insists that human beings can indeed influence the course of history and, with divine assistance, can bring .to birth the reign of God. "Apocalyptic" comes from the Greek word for revelation. Since it refers to a divine message about the end of the world, in the minds of many it is associated with prophecy. It maintains that the world and all within it must be purged before it can enjoy that for which God intended it, and it believes that this purgation will be individual, social, and cosmic. For this reason an apocalyptic atti-tude is fundamentally pessimistic. It not only challenges but rejects 342 Review for Religious the prevailing social, economic, and political reality. It does not encourage involvement in the world in order to transform it. Instead, it advocates separation from the world in order to pre-vent contamination. An apocalyptic point of view contends that sinful history is ultimately and exclusively under divine control, and therefore it awaits the defeat of evil and the triumph of good-ness. It believes that only after purgation will the new age appear and God's reign be victorious and unchallenged. While prophetic fervor drives people into the marketplace (for example, Jesus going from village to village proclaiming the reign of God), apocalyptic zeal frequently bids them escape into the desert (for example, the Essenes of Qumr~n waiting for the reign of God to come). At times prophetic insight has been confused with an apostolic spirit, which also calls for decision, repentance, .and reform and is also 6ommitted to the transformation of the world. The word apos-tle comes from the Greek for "send," and it stresses the intimate relationship between t~he sender and the person sent, rather than any message that may be involved. In a veery significant way, the one sent actually represents the sender. "Those who hear you, hear me; and those who reject you, reject me" (Lk 10:16). Paul under-stood his call in this way: "So we are ambassadors for Christ, God making an appeal through us" (2 Cor 5:20). Such an intimate rela-tionship between the apostolic minister and the Lord is more than a matter of personal holiness. It is inextricably li.nked with repre-sentation of the Lord to the world. This is quite different from the situation of the prophet, where the focus is not on the person sent but on the message sent. Belief in the power of the word itself is clearly seen in a passage from Second Isaiah(55:10-11): For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down And do not return there " till they have watered the earth, making i( fertile and fruitful, Giving seed to those who sow and bread to those who eat, So shall my word be that comes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it. Insisting on these distinctions does not suggest that an apos-tle cannot also be prophetic Or that a prophet may not at times May-June 1993 343 Bergant ¯ Would That All Were Prophets entertain an apocalyptic attitude. Rather, it is to point out that these perspectives are in fact different from each other. "Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy" (J1 3:1) The LCWR/CMSM statement speaks of conversion, critique, and change, language that implies that religious life is indeed at a crossroads. It further claims that "religious in the year 2010 will serve a prophetic role in church and society." Such a claim pre-sumes that an entire body of people will enjoy a kind of insight When the community finds itself at a crossroads, prophetic witness becomes more crucial and even more complex, because there is ambiguity among the members regarding it. that is normally not communal. This prompts us to ask: How can we ascribe prophetic witness to the whole group without compromising the power of unique prophetic insight? In answering this question, we must remember that religious commu-nities are made up of the daughters and sons of foundresses and founders, who critiqued the dominant social and reli-gious cultures of their times and found them wanting and who, as a result, brought new vision and devised new ways of living in the world and in the church. They frequently called for repentance and reform; they always called for decision. Their visions, their insights, became the charisms of their religious families. Because these charisms were always in some way prophetic, fidelity to tMm will always result in a form of prophetic witness. This will be true even when a community does not face a time of crisis, for devoted living out of the founding charism is the fundamental prophetic ideal to which members always commit themselves. Rededication to the ideals of the com-munity does not always call for prophetic insight, but it always demands faithful commitment. However, when the community finds itself at a crossroads, prophetic witness becomes more crucial and even more complex, because there is ambiguity among the members regarding it. It may be that social changes call for a new and contemporary inter-pretation of the founding charism (for example, the early Christian controversy regarding the admission of the Gentiles and the 344 Review for Religqous observance of the Law [Acts 16]). When this is the case, a com-munity faces a serious challenge. It must choose which guidelines to follow in critiquing the social change itself, and it must decide how the integrity of the charism can be guaranteed even as it is reinterpreted. The community as a group must discern how to address this challenge faithfully, and communities do not always achieve consensus on such matters without difficulty. On the other hand, the group may have lost its prophetic edge and may be itself in need of prophetic critique. Such a cri-tique should come from within the community, from an insider who knows the charism intimately and can bring its challenge to bear upon prevailing community understandings that are inade-quate. But who can perceive and articulate the hopes and ideals of the community in such a way as to speak both to it and for it? The community must discern this matter as well. (An example of such a dilemma is the ill-fated clash between the prophets Jeremiah and Hananiah [Jer 28].) Since the charism is to be found within the group and not merely in the intuitions of one individ-ual, the community must be able to recognize itself in the insights of its perceptive member or members. The task of a community at a crossroads is twofold: (1) a crit-ical examination of "the signs of the times" in order to discern the real religious needs of the moment and (2) a thorough anal-ysis of its established religious institutions and practices in order to discover their underlying traditional religious value. Only after such examination and analysis can the community hope to bring to bear on contemporary needs the traditional religious values that flow from its charism. It is not enough to approach this task with faith and commitment. Serious examination, rigorous eval-uation, and faithful yet imaginative reinterpretation are required, all of which call for extensive information, keen insight, and cre-ative visioning on the part of each member and the community as a whole. Not every member will be proficient at each step in this analysis and reinterpretation, but if each member has been formed in the founding charism, everyone will be able to enter into the process in a thoroughly beneficial manner. It is in this way that prophetic witness can be ascribed to the whole group without compromising the power of unique prophetic insight. "Behold, I make all things new" (Rv 21:5) Time and again we have heard it said that we are in the midst of a paradigm shift. May-June 1993 345 Bergant ¯ WouM That All Were Prophets Actually, because of the complexity of today's world, we are under-going the radical shift of m~iny paradigms. The ways in which we understood the world, society, human endeavor, and theology seem no longer adequate to meet and interpret the realities now facing us. The presuppositions of the modern world with its tech-ntlogic~ il achievements and its hierarchical manner 6f manage-ment are being seriously challenged. We ai'e standing on the threshold of the postmodern world, and yet we remain caught in many of the paradigms of the past. For example, we know that the patterns of growth and pros-perity which have provided many of us in the Western world with the benefits of material comfort can no longer be sustained at the same rate or for the same number of people as has been the case till now. One reason for this is that we are depleting our available material resources and are doing little or nothing to replenish them. There are limits to the environment's ability to sustain the kind of lifestyle to which the Western world has grown accus-tomed. Nature may be able to endure a certain amount of imbal-ance, but if its tolerance is exceeded it can no longer be expected to sustain our life. Despite our realization of this fact, we are still caught in a lifestyle that requires an inordinate amount of fuel for heating and for travel, of water for cooling, of paper for com-munication, and so forth. Another reason that we can no longer sustain our present pat-terns of gro.wth and prosperity is that we no~ realize that our privileged lifestyle has often been secured at the expense of the human rights of others. Frequently we are able to procure what we need or what we want at bargain prices only because workers that provide us with these products are paid wages far below what they need in order to live with dignity and hope. We already fight wars over land and the control of natural resources and at the expense of vulnerable people and nations. Still, we continue to live relatively comfortable lives while professing to be in solidar-ity with the disadvantaged. On another issue, we reject any androcentric or misogynist anthropological view that regards women as derivative. We refuse to consider ourselves natural followers rather than leaders, sup-porters rather than directors, dependents rather than providers. We have become sensitized to language and imagery that explic-itly insults, subtly minimizes, or completely disregards women. And yet at times we ourselves employ the very strategies of priv- 346 Review for Religious ilege and control, both among ourselves and with others that we believe relegated us to positions of subservience in the first place. In yet another area we are engaged in ministerial situations that call for a high degree of resilience and include extensive trav-eling. Ours is a kind of itinerant existence which demands that rootedness, a feature that is essential for any sound life, be found somewhere else than in a particular place. Despite this we are often efltangled in concepts of community that are more fitted to a sedentary lifestyle than a peripatetic one. . Finally, we have committed ourselves to the transformation of the world, a world that seems bent on greed and power and on violence in order to preserve privilege. We have taken on min-istries of advocacy; direct social service; ecological, peace, and justice activism; and the influencing of policy on all .levels of gov-ernment, and we carry out these ministries in dangerous circum-stances. We have committed ourselves to uncommon selflessness. All the same, we are often caught in the contemporary preoccu-pation with our own health, both physical and spiritual; the sur-vival of our group and our institutions, even at the price of compromised ideals; and the glorification of personal and pro-fessional accomplishments. None of the above is done hard-heartedly. Rather, things have changed either so rapidly or so imperceptibly that we have had neither the time nor the insight carefully to analyze either the old models that governed us or the new ones that are emerging. Nonetheless, we have already taken upon ourselves the task of fashioning an alternative way of living in the world, and if we are to be faithful to this commitment, we will have to examine seri-ously not only what we do but also how we do it. We will have to learn anew that the reign of God is more a process than~a prod-uct. It is brought to birth not so much in what we do as in the way we do it. Although it is in the world, it is not of the world, and this includes the world's systems and strategies. In order to bring this reign to birth, we must first acknowl-edge that this same world has played an active role in forming us into the people we have become. We possess many of its features (for example, our political and economic values), and we carry the effects of its history (for example, our inherited preferences and prejudices). Although it plays sugh a formative role in our lives, we are not always aware of the ways in which our particu-lar worldview promotes our own well-being and enhances our May-.l~une 1993 347 Bergant ¯ IVould That All 14Zere Prophets lives. It is very easy to take for granted the attitudes and mores into which we have been socialized and to presume that they and only they offer a way of dignified human living. Yet how will we be able to transform the world if we are not even aware of how We must listen to the marginal, not because their way of living and coping is better than ours, but because they help us to see what is wrong with a system that makes people marginal in the first place. much we are embedded in that world and its values, and how much that world and its values are embedded in us? Usually it is only when people feel restricted or in some way diminished (in other words, when they are not members of the dominant or influential group of the culture) that they question the justice of the restriction and then of the underlying rea-sons for it or for the continuation of it. This explains why those who suffer oppression or who are relegated to marginality or invis-ibility within a group are sometimes better critics of that group than are those who are privileged and satisfied. We must listen to the marginal, not because their way of liv-ing and coping is better than ours, but because they help us to see what is wrong with a system that makes people marginal in the first place. But even this may not be enough. We may need someone's prophetic insight to uncover for us our own complicity with such systems and with the world that we hope to transform. We may need to listen to the voices in the world and in the church that offer us insights that, left to our own devices, we may not be able to gain; voices that call for authentic collaboration rather than subtle control, for willing cooperation rather than self-interested competition, for genuine interdependence rather than aloof independence or inappropriate dependence, for gra-cious mutuality rather than uncompromising domination, for uni-versal justice rather than selective exploitation, for unaffected respect rather than veiled disdain, for tender compassion rather than detached indifference, for the reign of God rather than busi-ness as usual. This paper ends where it began, with the challenge of the LCWR/CMSM statement: "Being converted by the example of Jesus and the values of the gospel, religious in the year 2010 will 348 Review for Religious serve a prophetic role in church and society." The task before us appears monumental, but then we are taking on the whole world. Like our predecessors in their own periods of crisis, in many ways we are in uncharted waters, but they did not drown--so why should we expect to? We are being called upon to address urgent human needs that are not only social but also religious in nature. As we work to transform the world, we are bringing to birth the reign of God. Added to this challenge is the task of developing a contemporary theological understanding of who we are and what we are doing. We may still claim meaningful religious traditions that informed us in the past, but our conventional expression of these traditions is not always helpful in the postmodern world that we face. Despite all of this, we believe that we have been called by God and that we are the heirs of a prophetic charism. We are convinced that we must be steadfast in what we do, without being unyielding. We must be bold as we face the unknown, with-out being foolhardy. We must be confident of the pervasive power of God's love, without being presumptuous. We must be creative as we face the future, without being forgetful of the past. In all of this we must be genuinely humble, for after all it is God who promises: "Behold, I make all things new" (Rv 21:5). Letterto a Friend on Her Return from Retreat in a Hermitage Don't be afraid; you bring the forest and the trees back with you. Deer roam the corners of your room; shadows hang upon the curtdins, crouch playfully upon the pane. Healing is not out there; it's within if it's at all. Deep nights and double days, the soft wool throw of quiet. Peace: you carry it with you like persistent pink impatiens in your heart. Ann Maureen Gallagher IHM May-June 1993 349 PAUL J. PHILIBERT Committed Christian Secularity tkniS difficult to profess a Christian lifestyle that is very little own and largely misunderstood, but my hope is that secu-lar institutes will become better known and much more appreci-ated. In this article I argue that the consecrated life of the professed secular Christian is the most vivid example of the ide-als of Christian living in the secular world that were put forward at Vatican Council II. In the light of this council's theology, one would expect church leaders to illustrate the radical meaning of baptism by speaking at every opportunity of'the ideals and prac-tice of members of secular institutes. Yet four years ago, when Pope John Paul II spelled out in his apostolic exhortation Christifideles Laici the "vocation" and "mission" of the lay faithful in the church and in the world, he made only the briefest refer-ence to secular institutes: In the field of a "commonly shared" lay vocation, "spe-cial" lay vocations flourish. In this area we can also recall the spiritual experience of the flourishing of diverse forms of secular institutes that have developed recently in the church. These offer the lay faithful, and even priests, the possibility of professing the evangelical coun-sels of poverty, chastity, and obedience through vows or promises, while fully maintaining one's lay or clerical state.~ Many diocesan bishops in the United States appear to be unaware of the meaning of secular institutes or unconcerned about their development. What, we may ask, does this lacuna in the ordinary teaching of the church actually mean? Paul J. Philibert oP is prior provincial of the Southern Dominican Province. His address is 3407 Napoleon Avenue; New Orleans, Louisiana 70125. 350 Revie'w for Religious One can start the assessment by noting that the present papal administration seems to be distancing itself from some of the reformist orientations of the council. For so long have we been dividing recent church history into two periods called "concil-iar" and "postconciliar" that we have failed to recognize a more complex reality which needs to be named. Like many others, I would divide these years into three periods: 1963-1965, the "con-ciliar" years, during which the council was in session; 1965 until the death of Pope Paul VI in 1978, the "postconciliar" years, dur-ing which the Vatican and most Catholic bishops endeavored to implement the liturgical and pastoral reforms of the council; and, since 1978, a period of "ecclesiastical reassessment" during the pontificate of John Paul II. One of the council fathers, who is now a retired archbishop, has said, "The council rejected triumphalism (the church has all the answers), clericalism (the church is a pyramid), and legalism (church teachings presented as laws). The church is in the mod-ern world as are its ministers. There is no retreating to being people of another world.''2 Yet, to a greater or lesser degree, all three of these orientations--triumphalism, clericalism, and legal-ism-- are creeping back into the attitudes and utterances of some church leaders. Some describe the present tendency of the Vatican as "restoration," that is, an orientation to restore things to the way they were before Vatican II. That may be too extreme a judgment, even though one can understand why some think that way. Different observers account for this retrenchment from the "postconciliar" period in different ways. Some have observed that a significant motivation for this papal administration has been to avoid schism with the Lefebvrites and other ultraconservative Catholics; they say that the Vatican has been bending .over back-wards to avoid alienating those who pretend that Vatican II never happened. Others suggest that some high officials in the Vatican believe that much that came out of the council was mistaken in its orientation and must be replaced with the preconciliar solutions. Probably more accurate is the view that many of the documents of Vatican II are compromise statements that contain the seeds of tension that are now sprouting and bearing the fruit of division and conflict over some basic notions of church. Tlie major orientations of this pontificate that seem to touch on secular institutes are centralization and institutional nostal- May-June 1993 351 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity The major orientations of this pontificate that seem to touch on secular institutes are centralization and institutional nostalgia. gia. Regarding centralization, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that some heads of Vatican congregations think that incultura-tion and diversity of practice have gotten out of hand. Cardinal Ratzinger is reported as saying that national organizations of bish-ops have gone too far in establishing their independence of Vatican control. Some American bishops, and bishops in Holland and Germany too, have been called on the carpet and chided for statements of theirs. These are examples of what I mean by central-ization. This pontificate does not want anything to be happening in the local churches without consultation with the top. As regards institutional nostalgia, the example of religious comes to mind. The pope personally or through personal del-egates working above the level of the Roman congregations has given prefer-ential treatment to certain new, conser-vative religious institutes like the Society of St. Peter and the Legionaries of Christ as well as to some small traditionalist groups that stayed with the Roman Catholic Church at the time of the excommunication of Archbishop Lefebvre. During the summer of 1992, the Holy See granted approval to a new Council of Major Superiors of Women Religious in the United States at the request of a small number of traditionalist sisters here. (They are fewer than ten percent of the religious women in this country.) This fairly momentous decision was taken by the pope at the behest of an American cardinal arch-bishop without any consultation of the three existing church lead-ership conferences: the National Conference of Catholic Bishops, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. Among other interpretations, actions like these make one wonder if this pontificate is calling into question the principles and outcomes of the past thirty years of efforts at institutional renewal undertaken by the vast majority of religious in this country and in western Europe. What is being held up as a positive counterex-ample is the attitude and practice of a small number of religious who follow a regular'daily order and wear a distinctive habit. 352 Review for Religious Separation rather than transformation marks the spirit that is approved. I need to admit, of course, that mistakes and excesses did occur in the thirty years of postconciliar efforts at renewal. That is too obvious to miss. But it needs to be pointed out, I believe, that the Vatican seems now to single out for approval a simple return to the ways of the preconciliar period. This is what I mean by institutional nostalgia. Applying these observations to secular institutes, I note that their form of consecration does not fit well either with central-ization or with institutional nostalgia. They are trying new ways of implementing the church's ancient commitment to consecrated Christian life. Even though their commitment and spirituality are admirably in accord with the lay vocation and mission as described in Pope John Paul's apostolic exhortation, their juridi-cal and cultural independence place them somewhat outside the central preoccupations of this pontificate. In this context I now ask two essential questions: What is the vocation of a consecrated secular Christian? And how should it evolve? Institutes Described in the Code" of 1983 The 1983 Code of Canon Law describes secular institutes carefully. Their members share a radical commitment to Christian witness and apostolic endeavor. The charism given to secular institutes and recognized by the church is to united Christian commitment and secular presence in the world. Members remain lay or diocesan priests, even though they receive a canonical sta-tus in view of their profession of a consecrated life. The 1983 Code has abandoned the term "states of perfec-tion" and, above all, the language of Provida Mater (1947), which allowed one to think that there was a sort of hierarchy of institutes of perfection which placed members of secular institutes within a third rank. Canon 710 says: "A secular institute is an institute of consecrated life in which the Christian faithful living in the world strive for the perfection of charity and work for the sanctifica-tion of the world especially from within." The use of the cate-gory "consecrated life" allows the possibility of avoiding reference to the category "religious." In the eyes of the present Code, "reli-gious" and "seculars" are two categories of consecrated life of equal dignity. May-June 1993 353 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity Canon 713, §2, indicates that lay members, in the world and operating in a secular manner, participate in the church's evan-gelizing task in various ways: (a) by means of the witness of their Christian life, (b) by their fidelity to their profession of the evan-gelical counsels, (c) by their "efforts to order temporal things to God," and (d) by shaping the things of the world so that they are enlivened by the spirit of the gospel. "Also, they cooperate in serving the ecclesial community, according to their particular sec-ular way of life" (c. 713). Members of secular institutes are called to strive for the per-fection of charity. The ultimate purpose of secular institutes is apostolic. Their apostolate is the expression and the exercise 6f their consecration. As to lifestyle, the Code of 1983 is insistent upon the secular dimension of their living. Neither common life nor religious garb is to be imposed upon members) Consecration vs. Commitment Let us linger for a moment on the term "consecration"; it is the source of a great potential misunderstanding. Almost thirty years ago, Father M. D. Chenu (the gre, at French Dominican theologian who died in 1991) pointed out that the term "consecration" was loaded with ambiguity when employed in a context of relation or service to the world. The word, from the Latin for "to make sacred," supposes an opposition between the sacred and the profane. Is it, asked Chenu, a useful term.at precisely the moment when the Roman Catholic Church is articulating its openness to the world and its embrace of the ordinary conditions of human expe-rience (see Gaudium et Spes)? Historically the word "profane" meant "not pertaining to that which is sacred or holy," from the Latin for "outside the temple." So, Chenu argued, we would do better in this age to leave aside the term consecration, which suggests an oppo-sition to the secular (the nonsacred) and to express the intensifi-cation of a Christian life with a word like commitment.4 Chenu was at the time in search of the authentic meaning of religious life. His remark is even more pertinent to the vocation of members of secular institutes. Chief among their stated goals is to witness to the fullness of a lay vocation or (in the case of ordained members) of baptismal maturity in a world of secularity. The key issue, it seems, is how to be an active participant in sec-ular life and at the same time to be an exemplary Christian. 354 Review for Religious Secular and Christian What is authentic secular living, and what is authentic Christian witness? One of the meanings of the word secular (from the Latin saeculum, meaning "age") is "pertaining to the spirit of the age or the character of the times." This may refer to things like clothing styles and popular music, but is there a deeper mean-ing too? What is the most profound challenge of our age? I think that the answer lies somewhere within the interplay of political and religious phenomena. We are coming out from what was sometimes called "the age of alienation" or "the age of anxiety." Not that all alienation and anxiety are over and done with, but the world seems to be mov-ing out from under the cloud that threatened us for 45 years with nuclear destruction. It is amazing, now that the Cold War is ended, that there is not more acknowledgment and analysis of the waste of wealth on arms of cosmic destructive power. If the trillions of dollars spent on armaments in the past five decades had been available for peaceful solutions to world problems, we could have eliminated illiteracy and starvation and attacked poverty and disease. We were victims of irrational fear for fifty years; now that period is passing. The demise of the major communist governments is another symbol of a changing age. The irony is that Karl Marx devised the philosophy of communism as a response to "alienation"--people not being able to participate meaningfully in the economic and political processes that governed their lives. The tragedy is that the government of the Soviet Union under Lenin and Stalin became instead a totalitarian dictatorship that was even more alienating than the corrupt government to which it was reacting. Marx's issue, though--participation versus alienation--is still the issue. Here in the United States, at the end of an overlong pres-idential electoral campaign, it is not at all clear that people are pre-pared to participate vigorously in politics, We have been alienated by the media and by the deviousness of the c~ndidates themselves from truly raising or genuinely addressing the issues that are the most significant for our nation as a whole. In the religious world, participation versus alienation is like-wise a key issue. One analysis of the Second Vatican Council and its aftermath is that the dominant social reality of this age has been to promote full participation in church life--worship and administration included--to all those who, by their baptism, are May-ffune 1993 355 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity entitled to dynamic interaction within the "body of Christ." Forty years ago we would never have conceived of a woman eucharistic minister, a lay pastoral administrator, or a nonclerical chancellor of a diocese. Now we have all these things and have learned to take them for granted. Despite the fact that more progress has been made in securing entitlements to church office for lay people in general and women in particular in the past fifty years than in the previous fifteen hun-dred years, there is nonetheless strong agitation for even more par-ticipation, includinglthe ordination of Catholic women to priestly service. It can be argued that to be authentically "secular" today is to take a stand for the promotion of rightful participation of all persons in the structures, processes, and decisions that shape their lives and shape the communities in which they live. Authentic Secularity Authentic secularity includes three Cs: conversation, com-passion, and conversion. Social psychologists have argued that people enter into a new form of relation when they treat others not as strangers or inferiors, but equals. This is what I mean by "conversation." A conversation is marked by give-and-take, by listening as well as speaking, receiving as well as giving. This atti-tude, when adopted intentionally, empowers others. It opens us to the perspective of another despite distances of role and situation. It favors the understanding and fellow feeling that we generally call "compassion." Living this relation of conversation and com-passion promotes experiences of "conversion." Here conversion means for me a reorientation that makes us eager to promote the growth and freedom of others. By this conversion, one becomes an agent of liberation and a facilitator of the moral and emotional maturity of our neighbors in this world. My effort to spell out the agenda of authentic secularity in our age of transition has remained rather general and abstract, but I hope that these ideas may stimulate recognition of these patterns or possibilities in yourself. I hope you will notice that many people are still marginalized from government and the econ-omy, education and the church, and that their true well-being can be promoted through their fuller participation in these things. The promotion of such participation is a clear responsibility of those who have secular integrity .at heart. 356 Review for Religious Authentic Christian Witness Beyond secular integrity, how does one integrate authentic Christian witness with it? How is one authentically Christian today? First, I would observe that the key issue here is more akin to pol-itics than to piety. I use "politics" in Plato's classical sense, mean-ing the ethos and the discourse of a people. Of all the dynamic changes that have touched the lives of American Catholics as a result of Vatican II, none has been as important or as far-reaching as the transformation of our sense of church. We no longer see Sunday worship as sacred theater. We see that we are each church, but not as isolated consciousnesses, isolated pieties, or isolated agendas. We are church as part of an organic cooperation and growing solidarity in the gospel and in the Holy Spirit. The council's mos~t dramatic theological paradigm shift, according to most theologians, was the fresh view of the church as the people of God. This view was the fruit of decades of the-ological work, especially biblical research and exegesis, liturgical studies, and the reinstitution of adult catechesis in northern Europe in the period between the two world wars. All three of these streams of research found it important to stress the theo-logical continuity between the Old Testament and the New. The opinion that the Old Testament's God was thunderously severe and arbitrary while the New Testament's God is forgiving and gentle was seen for the simplistic misinformation that it was. Better biblical texts and better exegesis, based not upon early Latin translations, but rather upon ancient Hebrew manuscripts, allowed several generations of biblical scholars and theologians to appreciate the theology of the Old Testament for what it was, a testament of mercy and salvation. The key concept of both tes-taments, which unified the revelation of the ages, was that of a people called and saved by God from alienation and absurdity. From the call of Abraham through the story of the sons of Jacob, the Egyptian slavery and the exodus, the kingships and the exile, and the times of the prophets and the remnant, one message dom-inated salvation history. God called and chose a people to become his very own so that they could bear witness in their very existence to his transcendent reality and mercy. The theology of Vatican II places this truth above all others, forcing other themes of theology and other pastoral insights to adjust to it. God calls a people to be the visible expression of God's way with the real. The descendents of Jacob, Israel, heard May-.l~une 1993 357 Pbilibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity In Jesl, ls ~ God was again calling a people to be his own--. this time a people so closely identified with Jesus the Lord as to be calledhis "Body." (despite disbelief and temptation) and were haunted by God's call until they became the Judaism of history. Jesus came to call them into an intimate relation of love, forgiveness, and transformation by revealing the mystery of the triune God. But many of them rejected the Messiah Jesus, and the story of God's people reached a new moment in the followers of Jesus. These followers carried the "good news" to the nations, while Israel "hardened its heart" once again. But the fundamental truth did not change: in Jesus, God was again calling a people to be his own--this time a,~ people so closely identified with Jesus the Lord as to be called his "Body." It may be that in this theological insight lies the greatest challenge of all for members of secular institutes. For reasons largely associated with the ori-gins of secular institutes in hostile, anti-clerical societies, the institutes adopted the principle of discretion or reserve. One characteristic of this is that the members are not to lead a lifestyle pub-licly distinct from that of their neigh-bors. Part of their "secularity" is their immersion in the ordinary. A public religious profession or an unusual lifestyle would deny institute members access to the are-nas of.activity and witness in which they hope to use their apos-tolic energies: the place of work, casual neighborhood conversations, and the deliberations of university faculties, gov-ernment agencies, and community assemblies. This kind of anonymity--not publicizing their secular- institute commitment-- need not keep members from active involvement in a local parish's liturgical and apostolic life, but institutes differ in encouraging their members to lend their energies to the shared life and apos-tolic projects of their parish community. An authentic Christian life, however, is, as I said above, an ecclesial life. The institute members must always reflect the call of God to all Christians to be part of the people, of God and to give solid witness to God's presence and mercy in the midst of a hurting world. Therefore, they need to guard against such things as escapism, a piety .that is self-absorbed rather than apostolic, 358 Revie~ for Religious and a manner of liturgical participation that avoids involvement with the worshiping community. The ministry of reconciliation and atonement of the Lord Jesus can be seen as a work of solidarity with those who had become alienated from the forgiving and empowering word of his Father. As Vatican II's Constitution on Divine Revelation puts it, "Jesus perfected revelation by fulfilling it through his whole work of making himself present and manifesting himself: through his words and deeds, his signs and wonders, but especially through his death and glorious resurrection from the dead and final send-ing of the Spirit of truth." The central challenge to our moment of time from the gospel is that of visibly joining the dynamics of faith and of social trans-formation. I have been trying to evoke a general sense of the issues that are involved in this joining. But now it is time to turn to the admirable text of Pope John Paul II that followed upon the synod of bishops of 1987 and in which he summarizes the synod's theological insights. Christifideles Laici At the heart of the pope's message in Christifideles Laici is the assertion that lay Christians can bring to the frontiers of society a presence of the church that is unique. As the council's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church Says, "The laity are called in a spe-cial way to make the church present and operative in those places and dircumstances where only through them can she become the salt of the earth" (§33).5 It is the secular insertion of the laity that is the treasured aspect of their witness, in the pope's analysis. He says, "In particular, the lay faithful are called to restore to creation all its original value. In ordering creation to the authentic well-being of humanity in an activity governed by the life of grace, they share in the exercise of the power with which the risen Christ draws all things to himself and subjects them along with himself to the Father, so that God might be everything to everyone" (§14). The pope interprets the secular character of the lay Christian as a theological dimension of the experience of being Christian. It involves living in the world and transforming it through the exer-cise of "every one of the secular professions and occupations." It involves their relationships with family, friends, professionals, members of society, and authorities of the civil order. May-June 199.~ 359 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity The pope's theological affirmation appears to be that living and working in the context of ordinary reality from motives of faith in God and love for our human fellows is in itself an exercise of grace with the power to influence and ennoble human exchanges. The pope makes an unusually strong statement in saying: The images of salt, light, and leaven taken from the gospel, although indiscriminately applicable to all Jesus' disciples, are specifically applied to the lay faithful. They are partic-ularly meaningful images because they speak not only of the deep involvement and the full participation of the lay faithful in the affairs of the earth, the world, and the human community, but also and above all they tell of the radical newness and unique character of an involvement and par-ticipation which has as its purpose the spreading of the gospel that brings salvation (§ 15). The pope goes on to emphasize that a member of the lay faithful cannot remain in isolation from the community, but must live in an interaction with others that builds up the church. With reference to the church's liturgy, the pope says, "The various min-istries, offices, and roles that the lay faithful can legitimately ful-fill in the liturgy, in the transmission of the faith, and in the pastoral structure of the church ought to be exercised in confor-mity to their specific lay vocation, which is different from that of the sacred ministry" (§23). At the heart of lay people's ecclesial life is the parish, which is the symbol and the realization of the community of Christians. The pope reports that at the synod the bishops, in their discus-sions about renewing parishes, proposed two approaches: (1) "adaptation of parish structures according to the full flexibility granted by canon law, especially in promoting participation by the lay faithful in pastoral responsibilities"--so as to respond to situations where parishes have become geographically too large or where exiles and migrants demand specific pastoral responses (such as ministry in languages foreign to the place); and (2) devel-oping "small, basic or so-called 'living' communities where the faithful can communicate the word of God and express it in ser-vice and love to one another; these communities are true expres-sions of ecclesial co~nmunion and centers of evangelization in communion with their pastors" (§26). Thus the pope links the renewal of the parish to the expanded role of the lay faithful in the ani~nation and development of parish communities and the foundation of base communities alongside 360 Review for Religious and within the structure of existing parishes. Clearly, the need to find new forms of relationship that call to faith and celebrate faith within the neighborhood or the village is at one and the same time a diagnosis of the church's weakness today and a challenging mission for committed lay people. The pope, stating that the council insisted upon "the absolute necessity of an apostolate exercised by the individual [lay Christian]" (§28), then cites the following text of the council: The apostolate exercised by the individual--which flows abundantly from a truly Christian life (see Jn 4:14)--is the origin and condition of the whole lay apostolate, even in its organized expression, and admits no substitute. Regardless of circumstance, all lay persons (including those who have no opportunity or possibility for collaboration in associations) are called to this type of apostolate and obliged to engage in it. Such an apostolate is useful at all times and places, but in certain circumstances it is the only one avail-able and feasible.~ The pope's letter says much about the possibilities for holiness in committed lay life, but here I will include only some summary comments taken from its closing pages. A key preoccupation of Pope John Paul is to foster unity between everyday life and faith experience. He speaks of the need to evangelize the cultures within which we live. In part this means finding a place (in conversation and in social action) for the gospel values that the church preaches. Lives that integrate prayer, con-templation, and liturgical and sacramental life are a witness to the divine origin of our life and our world. The pope urges a readiness to take part in church programs and activities at local, national, and international levels. He indicates the crucial need for capable persons to commit themselves to catechesis and religious teaching. He urges people to organize gatherings and meetings focused upon a Christian analysis of family, civic, and social expe-rience. Finally, he mentions the value of a spirit of detachment and generosity and the power of the witness of poverty in a world " that is seduced by the power of materialism. John Paul then calls for a "reevangelization" of the Catholic and Christian world; we need, he says, to "remake the Christian fabric of the ecclesial community itself. This will be possible if the lay faithful will know how to overcome in themselves the separation of the gospel from life, to again take up in their daily activities in family, work, and society an integrated approach to life May-.~ne 1993 361 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity that is fully brought about by the inspiration and strength of the gospel" (§34). Earlier I noted how odd I find it that this lengthy document refers only briefly to secular institutes. I will not dwell further on that point. I observe, however, two things on the relation between secular institutes and the pope's apostolic exhortation on the laity: (1) I think this papal document is an extraordinarily well-crafted exposition of the meaning of the life of the vows for members of secular institutes. What they effectively commit them-selves to is an intense baptismal transformation as spelled out in the documents of Vatican II and summarized in the pope's letter. (2) The papal teaching here takes us a step further. The mem-bers of secular institfites must be committed to fostering the Christian life of their friends and neighbors. There is a mission-ary dimension to their vocation--towards their neighbor and towards the common culture within which they live and celebrate together. Although I have no firsthand experience of living the life of secular institutes, I have come as an interested outsider to the study of this dedicated form of life. My hope is not to answer ques-tions and close off discussion, but to raise questions and open new avenues of dialogue. I feel that secular institutes, especially in the United States, have a great opportunity. The church needs evan-gelical guidelines to help people grow in personal holiness and in effective witness to all the people around them. And so I hope that members of secular institutes will find ways to articulate their sense of their vocation even more clearly 9nd ways to make others aware of the very existence of secular institutes and the nature of their life. The gospel warns us about keeping treasures hidden. Notes ~ John Paul II, The Lay Members of Christ's Faithful People: Christifideles Laici (Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1989), §56. 2 David M. Bulger, "Men Who Love Their Priesthood and Their Church," Touchstone (National Federation of Priests' Councils newslet-ter) 8, no. 1 (fall 1992), p. 2. The prelate in question is the Most Rev. James Martin Hayes, retired archbishop of Halifax. 3 See the helpful summary in E Valdrini, J. Vernay, J. E Durand, and O. l~chapp~, Droit Canonique (Paris: Dalloz, 1989), pp. 188-121. 362 Review 3~r Religious 4 M. D. Chenu, "Consecratio Mundi," in The Christian in the World: Readings in Theology (New York: Kenedy, 1965), pp. 161-177. 5 The Documents of Vatican H, ed. and trans. W. M. Abbot and J. Gallagher (Ne~ York: Association Press, 1966): The Dogmatic Con-stimtion on the Church, §33. 6 Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity (Apostolicam Actuositatem), §16. Loving Verbs I've always loved nouns. Neatly framed words with clear definitions. Solid, stable words that name safe things, things you can count on and hold and keep. I know now that I've been afraid of verbs. Words that do and have and are. Words that whirl past you so fast you can't catch them, that alter and change things and give ulcers to nouns . Loving verbs is like saying yes to the rollercoaster, going on but still being scared. Loving verbs is saying yes to a kaleidoscope of action and being and having and feeling. Loving verbs is saying yes to Possibility. I think it's time for me to fall in love with verbs. Christen Shukwit OSF May-~une 1993 363 prayer SUZANNE ZUERCHER and direction Liturgy of the Hours: A Reflection "Ritual is the enactment of the myth." --Joseph Campbell The reality of monastic" life has always been formed and shaped around the ritual of the Liturgy of the Hours. In his Rule for Monasteries St. Benedict devoted numerous, if brief, chapters to the content and structure of this prayer, which he called the Work of God. The Divine Office requires that monastics pause again and again, offer praise together, and then move on to the next aspect of their lives. The complete circle of the monastic day gains its momentum ahd energy by stopping for the Work of God. Many monastics no longer spend eight periods daily praying the Liturgy of the Hours. Nevertheless, the pri-ority of this liturgical prayer remains, and they continue to gather daily. For contemporary monastics, as for early ones, this form of worship best manifests what their life together is about. Early monastics were lay persons even in all-male communities, and so opportunities for daily eucharistic celebrations did not exist in many monasteries. In such a context it is understandable that Benedict would place a high priority on the Work of God, which he made the distinctive and constant form of community praise and worship. It remains the heart of monastic prayer life even in this twentieth century. Suzanne Zuercher OSB, well known for her writings and work-shops, has held both administrative and formation roles in her community. Her address is: St. Scholastica Priory; 7430 North Ridge Boulevard; Chicago, Illinois 60645. 364 Re'view for Religious In times when we are so intent on exploring what religious community really means, one place to look for the answer is in this ritual of the Liturgy of the Hours. Joseph Campbell tells us that by examining a ritual we can find out about the myth the ritual attempts to express. For this reason I would like to spend time reflecting on elements of the Divine Office as it is celebrated in monastic communities in order to better understand what com-munity means in such settings. Today's monastic communi-ties say something about who they are as they gather daily for this ritual and worship. Perhaps even they need to pay close attention to what that statement is. Are we overlooking what community life is and needs to remain by failing to examine what may well be its clearest manifestation? Initially, the most basic communication a monastic community makes by gathering for the Work of God is that their life is founded on hope. David Steindl-Rast in his book Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer distinguishes hope from optimism. A hopeful per-son lives in the present. An optimistic one looks ahead, pumping up positive feelings of how good things will be. A person of hope looks with confidence and trust into reality simply as it is right now. He or she--or they when one speaks of a community of hopeful people--finds life in ordinary, humble, actual experience. Rather than having expectations of good things to come, persons of hope have only one expectation: For those who live and wait in the present moment, life/Life will be a surprise. Monastics watch for such surprises. Ritual, Campbell also reminds us, is by its very nature boring. In its repetitiveness it fails as entertainment and distraction. Instead, ritual forces those who participate in it to search beneath the words and actions to discover the reality it gives shape to. This holds true whether worshipers are from Indonesia or Illinois. Boredom demands the deeper search for meaning beneath litur-gical action. Those who observe monastic communities repeating psalmody week after week and year after year may wonder what can possi- The most basic communication a monastic community makes by gathering for the Work of God is that their life is founded on hope. May-j%ne 1993 365 Zuercher ¯ Liturgy of the Hours bly draw them together for so repetitious a ritual. The sequential reading of Scripture, the yearly round of liturgical seasons, the consistent liturgical gestures are rhythmic, to be sure. To some, such repetition may appear empty and uncreative; but for monas-tics, whose worship is formed around this liturgy, such ordinari-ness underlines the reality of all human life and, consequently, of their life together. It calls to them, demands of them, that they look more deeply into what their lives are about. Eventually, if they are to continue to gather for the Hours, they are forced to cut through ritual to discover what that ritual signifies. It is dif-ficult, if not impossible, to endure the repetitive round of common prayer without such a breakthrough. Monastics who do not respond to this challenge to go deeper either go to sleep or despair. Sooner or later they absent them-selves psychically and physically from gatherings of the commu-nity in prayer or otherwise. Those, however, who hang, on in the face of meaninglessness can be led to the conversion at the heart of monastic commitment. Anguish and desperation can lead to rebirth and transformation in this as in other aspects of the spir-itual life. We do not willingly plumb our lives. We do so only when something demands that we move from the obvious to what that obvious is really expressing. We are forced to ask some questions: Why do we come together, stop our work, come home early, make sacrifices to be together for this time of prayer? What is the mean-ing behind what we do and say here? Do we believe all this, see it as important, even primary? Such questions are about the liturgy. But they are also, if we look closely at them, questions about community itself. Do we really see significance in using up our energies in praise of God together? Given life/Life as mystery, there is no final answer to any important human question. That is possibly why we keep asking what community is over and over again, generation after gener-ation, even though we have a Rule to guide us. Our human nature ultimately insists on experience. Experience is how we learn our answers. Liturgy of the Hours revolves around a lived experience of virtues we have all learned about which form the bedrock of the spiritual life. It makes these virtues concrete. First, we find faith in the gathering of the community, and we believe that life/Life will be found here. Then we recognize that the space in which we 366 Review for l~eligio~s gather is a sacred place where holiness will quicken us; for this we hope. And when it does bring the energy we call spirit/Spirit, we are truly one people, God's family, united in love with those who gather here and with the world of which we are a microcosm. Indeed, the place of our gathering for liturgy is sacred, but the spiritual spills over, if it is gen-uine, into all the other aspects of life: to the kitchen, the grounds, the classroom, the social agency, the hospital ward, the parish offices, the artist's studio. All are sacred places, all filled with objects and growing things and others who are sacred vessels. Benedict told his monastics to pause wherever they were in their work for God's Work, the Liturgy of the Hours, to remind themselves that everything is sacred. They were not to make life holy; they were to remind them-selves that it already is. Another element of monastic community is stability. Sometimes misunderstood as never going anywhere, stability does have something to do with being together in physical space. There is symbol in gathering. When community members come in one after another and take their places for the Work of God, their gathering together says what people want and need to hear expressed: You can count on my presence. Seeing the same per-sons gathered for prayer day after day makes real the word fidelity. The action of monastics looking around and noticing commu-nity members assembled with them is itself a form of prayer--a consoling and strengthening reminder that we wait as a people for our God (o come to save us. The monastics who gather share daily living, values, com-mitment; They are the same people who will be together in wor-ship and in all the other moments of existence as well. Praying together stands for and ritualizes all our being together. Talk and write as we will about the importance of being one in spirit, actu-ally hearing the voices and observing the silences and singing the psalmody with community members provides a needed testimony of this dedication to one another. The physical setting and its rituals offer another reflection on monastic community. As weeks pass, those who participate in the Liturgy of the Hours assume first one role in the ritual and then another. From presider to chanter, to reader, to the one who Praying together stands for and ritualizes all our being together. May-gTune 1993 367 Zuercber ¯ Liturgy of the Hours intones the various choirs, to merely being one of the group at prayer, the rhythm of life involves numerous tasks. The rhythm of monastic community is similar. One may be the prioress for a time, and then the procurator or the formation director, the gar-dener or the cook, the principal of the school or a teacher, the hospital administrator or a staff nurse. Monastics move easily and regularly throughout their lifetime in one another's company from the responsibilities of authority to those of obedience. They do so simply; it matters little in their life together what title they may have or how much prestige it carries. If today they have a larger role, yesterday they were one of the group and tomorrow they will be so again. Prolonged and consistent living among the same people pro-vides opportunity for a unique sort of learning. All the ministries monastics assume in the community and beyond it are for ser-vice, and this service changes. When a group lives in continuity with one another, moving from role to role is a normal, unim-pressive experience. Members give of their talents now in one way and now in another. The content of the Liturgy of the Hours is almost entirely scriptural. Meaning comes from the long and nourishing story of the Judeo-Christian tradition found in both Old and New Testaments. The history of redemption is larger than any indi-vidual person or any community, but Scripture provides words for the human experiences lived out by the whole group and each of its individual members. Monastics ponder the Scriptures until its words--and more importantly, the message they proclaim-- permeate their lives, are absorbed into the marrow of their bones. Body and mind and feelings soak up the liturgical seasons in their cyclic rhythm. In my own experience I once met a group of spiritual direc-tors who were to companion some monastic women on their first directed retreat. These directors expressed concern about how to introduce praying with Scripture. To their surprise, the monastics they directed not only understood the relevance of suggested pas-sages, they were able to add many others on the same theme. The directors were amazed at how steeped these women were in the concrete experiences which various Scriptures highlighted. Many of them had done litde formal scriptural study, but the constant association of the texts with their day-to-day lives had blended both together. 368 Review for Religious The simple reflection on the Gospel which the Liturgy of the Hours provides testifies to the natural, nonelaborate quality of the best of prayer, the best of living. There is design and order in the structul'e of God's Work, but medieval embellishments have been done away with in these times of ours. Monasticism is again being expressed very simply in its most basic and original form, and its prayer ritual has assumed some-thing of the natural breathing in and out of word and silence. As a result monastics experience the order and peace found when an appropriate amount of structure shapes life. It is important that what is and needs to be predictable not degenerate into rigid formalism. Monastic liturgy makes the statement that, as is true for all mature persons, mgnastics need to learn to bend with changing breezes without uprooting themselves as they do so. Perh.aps the most signifiEant statement the Liturgy of the Hours makes is that "it is good for us to be here." In the end, community is its own justification as is prayer. Religious life is valuable simply because it is. People live in community; it is the human thing to do. The kind of community people choose varies according to who they are. Monastics live their kind of commu-nity life primarily because it "fits" them. They find their whole-hess with other people who, like them, seek God, the Work of God and obedience as described in the Rule for Monasteries. When members of monastic communities live their under-standing of who they are in a whole and happy way, they cannot but witness to God's love and peace and joy. They do so simply by their lives. Of course, it is true that any whole person is called to care and to serve~ to be concerned and to work for the good of others. Monastics, therefore, find that they cannot contain what God has given them. It overflows to those around them and cre-ates yet another expression of stability in the environments in which they live. The vision of monastic community that underlies this article is idealized, to be sure. So, too, is the fantasy of perfectly carry-ing out the Liturgy of the Hours. Such perfection never happens. There are coughs and sneezes; people read too softly or too loudly, Perhaps the most significant statement the Liturgy of the Hours makes is that "it is good for us to be here." May-3~ne 1993 369 Zuercber ¯ Liturgy of the Hours too slowly or too fast. People forget to perform their assigned role in the ritual and the flow of things is upset. Differing inter-pretations about how the psalmody is to be read or sung by the group create subtle conflicts. All of these imperfections, and many more besides, limit the beauty and peace of liturgical celebration. Despite such imperfections, monastics continue to gather together for this less-than-perfect expression of a community life that is also less than perfect. They watch and wait, not knowing at what hour the Bridegroom will come in the form of some insight, some consolation, some discernment, some energy released from image or symbol, some decision to act. The Spirit blows when and where it wills. Those who wait find their quick-ening at the point of what we might Fall readiness--a readiness which differs for each person. It demands a culmination of a num-ber of life experiences to reach such a ripeness. Monastics gathered for Liturgy of the Hours never know when their individual hearts will be warmed, when the heart of the person beside them will be set on fire, when the community as a group will hear God's response to the Spirit's groaning within. But they wait, nonetheless, with a certain amount of patience and good humor for these freeing moments to occur in the world of time. This reality best describes for me what community is. It has not always been my description of our life together, but in recent years community has come to mean waiting with one another for each person's time. The ritual of Liturgy of the Hours celebrates and makes that description clear over and over, day after day. It, indeed, enacts the reality we struggle to define, the myth of reli-gious community. 370 Review for Religious KENNETH C. RUSSELL Get Serious! The Monastic Condemnation of Laughter /~,n, chapter six of his famous rule, St. Benedict bluntly forbids talk leading to laughter,''1 Later he notes that a monk has reached .the tenth step of humility when "he is not given to ready laughter:, for it is written: 'Only a fool raises his voice in laughter'" (Si 21:23).2 This condemnation of mirth is not, we must note, some oddity that can be explained away on the basis of Benedict's personal history or the troubled period in which he lived. His outright condemnation of the joviality we applaud was echoed in other monastic rules and in the critical comments of church fathers such as St. Ephrem and St. John Chrysostom.3 This harsh attitude toward laughter seems strange to us and even downright unhealthy. The early spiritual masters frowned on laughter; we, on the contrary, are suspicious of seriousness. ' In today's world all truth is spoken with a smile, as Horace rec-ommended, and Woody Allen, despite his recent troubles, is the only Hamlet we are willing to tolerate. Why Laughter Was Suspect But what prompted the first monks to condemn laughter? The scholars who have explored the early monastic rules and the sayings of the desert fathers offer various explanations. For one thing, laughter disrupts monastic order. It shatters the silence that represents the readiness of a disciple to listen.4 A monk who Kenneth C. Russell is a professor of the theology faculty at Saint Paul University. His address is Saint Paul University; 223 Main Street; Ottawa K1S 1C4; Canada. May-June 1993 371 Russell ¯ Get Serious.t is busy laughing is not ready to hear whatever may be spoken to him by the Holy Spirit or the abbot. In the monastic context it is the abbot's duty to speak and the monk's to listen,s The monas-tic rules are particularly hard on the effort to provoke laughter. In terms of order, this all makes sense because a joker in the clois-ter is obviously the equivalent of the clown in the back row of a classroom competing with the teacher for the other students' attention. Monasticism's reasons for rejecting laughter went deeper than that, however. The early monks prohibited laughter because they associated it with an arrogant, self-satisfied disdain for God and neighbor. Did Jesus not in fact say, "Woe to you who laugh now; you shall weep in your grief" (Lk 6:25)? And where in the New Testament does it say that Jesus laughed? This may not seem an important point to us, but the early monks took the failure of the gospels to show Jesus laughing quite seriously. They were not the only ones. Not even popular piety, which was ready in every cen-tury to fill the gaps in the gospel narrative with legends and sto-ries, ever developed the image of a lighthearted, laughing Jesus.6 Why this suspicion of laughter in the first Christian cen-turies? There would seem to be cultural as well as religious rea-sons for this uneasiness. In the tight-knit societies of the ancient world, laughter was likely to be laughter at someone: the for-eigner, the deformed, the handicapped. It separated the person who had done something "funny" from the group and made him or her a legitimate object of scorn. Laughter mocked and excluded the outsider. This social reality is reflected in the view of the ancient Greeks who, though they recognized risibility as a dis-tinctive human quality, concluded nonetheless that laughter was unbecoming to a mature human being because of its characteris-tic cruelty.7 The world in which monasticism took shape was sev-eral centuries away from the classical era, but the same high regard for how one appeared to others and the same sensitivity to shame were operative. Laughter, therefore, could be seen as a destruc-tive and even satanic force,s We must not think, however, that the fathers and the early monks favored a kind of pious gloom. They did not. In fact, some of those who made the harshest remarks about laughter were well known for their geniality and cheerfulness. What they frowned on was a certain lighthearted devil-may-care joviality. But why? To get to the heart of the matter, I think we have to look beyond the 372 Review for Religious historical situation and the predictable considerations of monas-tic discipline to the very essence of laughter. This is the only way we can discover what the fathers were really condemning and determine whether what they said has any message for us today. What Is So Funny? It seems to me that humor springs from the tension between our spiritual aspirations and the physical limitations imposed on us by our bodies and our confinement in a physical world with laws of its own. Comedy, in other words, is built into our very being. Even when we avoid the ridicu-lous pretensions that blind the proud to the banana peel right in front of them, we are funny creatures. Our efforts to go up the down escalator, our inability to guarantee that the soup in our spoon will reach our mouth without mishap, and all the other follies of daily life constantly remind us of our basic humanity or, to put it differently, of our littleness and dependence. Our comic condition mocks our solemnity? Therefore, if we have a prudent measure of humility and a min-imum of wisdom, we cheerfully accept our role in the human comedy and laugh at ourselves. We also laugh at others, but usually because we identify with them and see ourselves in their pratfalls. That is why Charlie Chaplin holds our attention or why we laugh at the-shy scientist in The Gods Must Be Crazy who falls all over every bit of furniture in sight in the presence of the attractive young woman who has entered his life. "Isn't it the truth!" we say. Male or female, we know what it is like to be completely overwhelmed by the attractiveness and charm of another human being. We have all been there, and our laughter celebrates our humanity and the glory of its fragile being. Our laughter testifies that the world, for all its troubles, is a joy-ous place and humanity, for all its pain, a wondrous thing in the hands of a God who can be trusted. Faith and cheerfulness would seem to go together. Our laughter testifies that the world, for all its troubles, is a joyous place and humanity, for all its pain, a wondrous thing in the hands of a God who can be trusted. May-June 1993 373 Russell ¯ Get Serious! But does our laughter always stand in such a healthy rela-tionship to the basic seriousness of life? What about the cynicism and despair that echoes in much of our laughter? For, indeed, we use laughter, not only to relativize the tragic dimension of life, but also to trivialize it altogether. Laughter can be a way of saying, "Hey, when it comes to silliness and stupidity, we're all in the same boat!" or it can be a frightened, frenzied dance over the abyss of anxiety. Laughter can be a life-affirming chuckle or a panicky giggle. Laughter, therefore, is not necessarily a sign of faith, nor is it necessarily, to use .the title of Richard Cote's contribution to a theology of laughter, "Holy Mirth." 10 It may, indeed, signify a brave stance before the meaninglessness of life. It may be a deter-mined retreat from a truth too dismal to contemplate. It may, ultimately, be an avoidance of seriousness. The Nature of Laughter We have lost the ancient world's suspicion of laughter, but it remains true, nonetheless, that making someone the object of laughter can be a disguised act of aggression. The same chuckle that mocks the other may comfort the joker with the consolation that he or she is not "like that." Whether crude or subtly sugar-coated, this alienating humor is the basis of most racial jokes and stories. Is this cruel aspect of humor just a negative twist that can be explained away by human sinfulness, or is it, in fact, the very basis of laughter? Surprising as it may seem, most philosophers and psychologists who have studied laughter connect it with aggres~ sivity and defensiveness. You may hit your neighbor with a feather duster and protect yourself with a water pistol, but you do hit him and you do defend yourself. In the evolutionary and anthro-pological way of looking at humanity which these thinkers adopt, laughter is partly a protective device, like the cuteness of small ani-mals, and partly a barrier erected to protect the group from the unfit and different. Laughter offers an alternative to a direct assault in those circumstances where overt aggression would be ill-advised. "If you can't hit him, tickle him to death, or make him so uncomfortable he gives up and goes home." The experts seem to consider laughter akin to the excited, mocking behavior of the likes of Tarzan's Cheetah.11 374 Review for Religious Are the psychologists and phenomenologists right? They cer-tainly seem to be on target when they describe how laughter func-tions in society. We have all, at one time or another, used laughter to disarm someone who has assumed an aggressive stance in a conversation, or we have, conversely, "jokingly" taken a verbal punch at someone we dared not face off with seriously. But must we fol-low them when they explain laughter in purely evolutionary terms? Must we see it merely as an outgrowth of aggression and defensiveness? Is laughter--harmful or helpful, loving or hateful--merely an amoral by-product of our swing down out of the trees? Is it someth!ng that will van-ish once genetic engineering succeeds in bleaching aggression out of the human gene pool? The notion that laughter is rooted in the desire to figh.t and defend ultimately cloaks the most lighthearted laughter in very dark colors indeed. It is surely prefer-able, therefore, to view laughter as a God-given, inherent human characteristic and not merely as a stained leftover from some newly grounded ape with the jitters. It is a proper human attribute that can be used, like most things human, for good or ill. Why, then, was laughter so harshly condemned by the spiri-tual masters of early monasticism? It is true that they placed a high value on the gift of tears which enabled a monk to lament his sins .and, indeed, the human condition in its alienation from God, but they certainly did not favor going about under a dark cloud.~z Sadness, after all, is one of the spiritual disorders in the list of passions that John Cassian handed down to Western monasti-cism. 13 We have to keep in mind that cheerfulness is one thing, the deliberate effort to provoke laughter quite another. What Laughter Does It seems to me that, to hold the monastic condemnation of laughter in perspective, we have to keep in mind that cheerfulness is one thing, the deliberate effort to provoke laughter quite another. Cheerfulness is the mark of someone who knows the May-.]une 1993 375 R~ssell ¯ Get Serious! score, as it were. Confidence in the providence of God and faith in the resurrection of Christ make Christianity a joyful religion. Therefore, those who penetrate to the heart of things, the wise, are inclined to be cheerful. However, if they heed the warning of St. Benedict, they will not "love immoderate and boisterous laugh-ter." L4 Certainly they will "speak no foolish chatter" and will not say anything "just to provoke laughter." ~5 Yet surely there is much to be said for the effort to make peo-ple laugh. After all, jokes, wit, and "foolish chatter" function as social lubricants. They act as icebreakers and frequently provide an interlude of relaxation and entertainment in the tense envi-ronments in which many of us operate. This is certainly true, but nonetheless I am inclined to say that, even at the best of times, laughter is a movement toward the surface, toward the shallows. It is always escapist. It is always a distraction because it is always a movement away from the quiet center of one's being. The fact that clowns and clowning around distract us does not, of course, make the effort to provoke laughter an evil. Laughter has its proper, place and its uses. In the hustle and bus-tle of the large, impersonal metropolis in which most of us earn our living, it is a marvelous instrument of social interaction. It helps us survive in a world of strangers. We may not know one another's history or evefi what the person next to us does when he or she is not working in this office, serving on this committee, or attending this class; This may be regrettable on a theoretical level, but the truth is that things would not go smoothly if we had to establish a deep interpersonal relationship with the mul-titude of people we meet. We encounter them in a specific con-text where we wear, as it were, a name tag referring to only one aspect of our personal history. We are "employee," "tennis part-ner, . student," or whatever. We want to be known and to feel that we fit in, but at the same time we have no desire to expose our pri-vate life to people we meet in this one-dimensional setting. Shared laughter allows us to achieve these contradictory goals. It binds the group together by touching our common humanity and, by veer-ing away from a focus on the personal, it protects our privacy. Laughter keeps everything light and frothy as it should be among those who work in the same place or band together to pursue some common social or recreational goal. This'is not the perspective that preoccupied the early monks. Therefore, their derogatory assessment of laughter should not 376 Revie~w for Religious be read as an attack on the social use of humor nor interpreted as a put-down of stand-up comics or, for that matter, the office wiseguy. The words of the fathers were addressed to those who had withdrawn from the turmoil of life and the humor that helps it function pleasantly. They were addressed to those who had, as it were, gone apart to concentrate. An effort to deliberately pro-voke humor in a setting which, by reason of its very seriousness, was surely prone to the laughter rooted in the human condition was obviously inappropriate. Laughter was as out of place in this setting as it would be on a green during a pro tournament. It broke the pros' concentration. Worse than that, the inclination to stir others to laughter indicated that a monk had fallen victim to the restlessness and distraction that the desert tradition called acedia.16 Conclusion Does this ancient suspicion of laughter have anything to say to us today? I think it challenges all Christians to ask, "Why am I laughing?" Does our joviality spring from the confidence that gives rise to cheerfulness, or is it perhaps anxiety in cap and bells faking nonchalance in the entrance hail of death? Is it the prod-uct of faith in a loving God who demonstrated his seriousness by making humans glorious beings and his love by giving them two feet to fall over to help keep things in proportion? Or is it the by-product of unbelief that opts, despite it a

Issue 5.4 of the Review for Religious, 1946. ; RE VOLUME V / J,ULY 15. 1946 " Nu~BE~,~- ' , , CONTENTs "ORIGINAL SIN AND EDUCATION~Cyril VSIlert. S.J. " " 21,7 A TIMELY PAMPHLET . ¢ -.'. . , .' , 228 ~CONCE~NING DISTRACTIONS~ha'rles F. Donovan, S.J, ~ 2;29 IN CASE YOU DON'T KNOW IT~ * 232 "SAINT APPEARED TWICE"--CIem~t J. McNaspy, S.J . 233 ~ PLAN OF SELF-DENIAL WITHIN THE 'REACH OF ALL ~ "Robert B. Eitem S.J . " 239 gP~LS ~ORVOCAT~ONS ., . ~,.~ 2~ SPEAKING' OF NAMES--Claude Kean.O.F.M . DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE . ,249 OUR CONTRIBUTORS " . . TWO HE~RTS--W. H. Hingston S.J '. ~ 251 ANN~N~EMENT . - . ~. ~_. ~-25~ RECEPTION OF SEMINARIANS INTO RELIGIOUS INSTI~UTES~, Adam C, Ellis, S.J . :BOOKS RECEIVED . ' ~ ' 263 /QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ' ,~ 22. Permission to Use G~ld Watch . 23.,Number of Delegates for General Chapter: Soliciting Votes 26~' 24. Use of Income from Special Fees '. . ~. 26~ 25. Religious Candidate Whose Parents Have,Bad Reputation 266~ ~ 26. Going to Confession in Order of Seniority . . ~ . 266 27. Communion Sundays ahd Contests to Promote Frequent Communion 267 28. Order of Precedence in Mdther House " " 268 BOOK REVIEWS-- ' , ~,~ The Mystical Life; Meditatio~ on the Passion: The Catholic Centre: Mission for Samaritans: Forming a Christian Mentality; How to Medi-tate; The Mystical Baldy of Christ: La ~iete Eucharistique: John Henr~ , , . Newman: Centenary Essays; The T h"ird Day Mano'logy: Mast'er and~ - Model: Dove Flights: Kyrie Elei~on:XTh~ P~ychology of Liturgical MU- " sic; The Life,of Father Pro 271 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. ~uly, 1946. Vol. V. No. 4. Pu~lisfied bi-monthly; January, March:May. July, September. and November at the C011ege.Press,4 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas. *by-St. Mary's College. St. Marys, ,~ansas, . with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered' as second class ~atter/~anuar), ~'15, "1942. at the Post O~ce, Topeka, ~Kansas. under the act of March 3:. 1879. EditgrlaL Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J. G, Augustine Ellard. S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J. Editorial Secretary: Alfred F. Schneider. S.J. " Copyright, 1946, by Adam C. ElliS, Permission is hereby. ~ra~n t e d for- quota't m:"n ~s. of reasonable length, provided due credit "be given this review and the auth6r.' Subscription price:, 2 dollars a year. Printed*ifi ~. Before writln~ to us,,please consult notice on inside 'back over~ ¯ ~' Or~gin~°l ~in ~nd Educa :ion Cyril Vollert, S.J. ~OST OF US who try to keep up with educational ~V~ controversies and discussions have~ become some-what surfeited with reiterated assurances that the one hope of salvaging this creaking world, so near the shoals of disaster, is education. We are told that education can save democracy, resolve the .c~lass struggle~ and confer on man. the good life.- " The striking t~I-iing is, much of this is true. But to realize'these great expectations education must be rightly conceived and rightly directed. It must be true education for man as he actually is; and it must be aimed at the right goal. Most of the. arguing about education is futile, and therefore fruitless, ' because those whd contribute the never~e.nding stream of articles, addresses, and books about education are so'often, unrealisticAn their view of the p.er~son who is to b~educate~d.or are wrong in t~eir idea.of t~e~upshot ofthe educational process. They are trying to stee~la rudderless sh~p throagh an uncharted sea to an unknown port. unless[we are right.in our notion of~the objec-tive to be a.t~ta[ned and of the~p.erson wh9 is to be educated, we are scarcely,.in a position to decide what the ~educational process ought to ~e. , . I,n this article.I s~all not pr3sume to fix the ~ltimate goal of education. Readers of this periodical know very. ~well what it is: ,God, whom we are to possess in the eternal happiness of the beatific vision. Nor shall I rashly attempt to outline an educational program. My purpose will be to describe the beneficiarydr" such a program and to indicate 217 CYRIL VOLLERT ' Reoiew /or t~elipiotts the proximate end to be achieved. The artist cannot pro-duce a masterpiece unless he knows the material he has to work on. Neither can the teacher succeed in transforming an uneducated person into an educated person unless he understands man as he actually is. The raw material of the educational' process is a boy or girl born in original sin, and still suffering the results'~ of original sin. This statement is not naive. It is not a bogy of a bygone day. It is true today and Will remain true for all time. Such a view is the only realistic view. Any other notion is false, or at least inadequate. But even tki'e truth that the person to be educated began life in original sin and still staggers under the burden of the consequences Of origi-nal sin may be distorted. To see the truth, two extremes have to be avoided: a vapid optimism and a groundless pessimism. Clear vision is n~eded, unobstructed either by rose-colored lenses or by smoked glass. The optimistic vie.w, credited by romanticists to the philosophy of Jean Jacques Rousseau but "actually as old as Pel~ag~us in the fifth century and his iritellectual ancestors, is that every man at his origin is wholly good. Let him alone; do not hamper or misdirect the natural play of his thought-processes and appetites; and he is capable of 'ifidefinite growth ingoodnegs. Signs of the break-up of the "electiv~ System" point to th~gradual abandonment of this view. But many. educators still do not know wh~t is to replace this shallow optimism. Rousseau and Eliot are no longer the .leaders to the promised land. Nevertheless the typical modern educator remains a Pelagian. /] The pessimistic view is also hoary with antiquity. Its crudest form, Manichaeism, regards all matter as evil. Therefore man, so far as he is a corporeal being, is evil. He is hopeless till he. gets out of his Body. A less irrational 218 1946 ORIGINAL SIN AND EDUCATION variety of this pessimism is the notion, characteristic of uncontaminated early Lutheranism and Protestantism generally, that original sin intrinsically corrupted man, l'eft him forever a sinner ihcapable "of morally good actions, and destroyed his free will. Nothing can really correct the depravity of Lutheran.man. His defilement can be covered up byChrist's merits, but he himself stays a sinful wretch, utterly corrupt. A trace of this idea of man, greatly diluted, is found sometimes among Catholics, even amdng educated Cath-olics and religious. They may have a notion, not very-pre-cisely formulated, that man's nature, though not wholly corrupted by original sin, was inwardly wounded so that his understanding, considered on the purely natural _level, is now intrinsically darkened and his will is intrinsically weakened. Those who harbor such an idea of man may have been Subjected to defective instruction On this point; or they may have failed rightly to grasp what was correctly taught; or they may have had teachers who repre-- se, nted a very small, and practically unimportant,-minority opinion tfiat man actually was thus injured by original sin. But there is no sound theological basis for this per: suasion. The truth is that man, coniidered simply as natural man, is as whole today, in intellect and will, as was man regarded in his purely natural endowment when he came from the creative hand of God. In other words orig-inal sin left man in no worse condition, on the purely human level of his mind and will, than he was before Adam cast his momentous decision against God. What is true in all that we hear about the disastrous effects of Adam's sin is this: the first man deliberately renounced God and thereby lost the supernatura! endow-ments which God had conferred on him for the whole 219 CYRIL VOLLER~. 'human~ race. Adam was created not Reoiew for Religious only in'a state~ of ¯ na.tural:perfecti0n, but .was elevated to.the~sonship of God by sanc._tifying grace,. Mor9o,ver,, to~ complement th!s~divine -gift and to enable Adam to preserve it for0himself and .the entire human family, God added other remarkable.gifts, notably, t_he.~gift of.integrity whereby all hispowers affd faculties were perfectly~subordinated to his. reason and.~.wi11., and the gift of immortality whereby his. body.~asi~sub~, 'jected to his~soul so that it was liberated from the necessity of fa!ling into corruption and death. These inconceivably .great bounties, all of ,,them beyond ,the capacities ,of human na°ture, Adam. received for himselt and for all his,~descend- By:_sinning Adam lost~them all~. He lost originals, jus-tice for himseff 'and fo~ his posteri.ty., His children and his children's children down to the end of time (with the unique)exception, ofo.th~ Bles'sed V4rgin'Mary).were begot-ten in.a-sta:te,.of estrangement from God. Instead' of.being ,bOrn sons. and daughters of God in sancti£ying grace: the,y. were,born.%without that relation to God,,,.the-only Fight relation.to God once God bad,elevated mankind i(in. Ada_m). to:the,supernatural level:~ ~They were born ~in,:the stat&of . ~ ~W.ith the sin inherited from" Adamgo theieffects.of, the sin:loss'[0f,the othe'r accompanying 'gifts, integrity, and im-morgality.:,,. ThereforeAdam's~children,are worse off ~ihan-he~-~ as.,.~ Forthey all come into°the,W.ofld withbut.-the grage of di,v, ine~sonship,, without integrit~y, without immottalit, y: ,Adam s,mn £change mankind for the wors~, ifi!,soul and.in :,, --But Adam's~ sin ,did not wreck his. human nature as. such.' We are no w6rse Off now than we ~oul'd have been if God had never elevated Adam to be His ~ad0pted son, with this exception: we ought to be biafn with sanctifying 220 July, 1946 ORIGINAL SIN AND EDUCATION grace, and we are not; find so we are born in a state dis-pleasing to.God, a state of sin. ~l~rue, if we ~compare ourselves with .A'dam as he actually was in Paradis'e, we are far .inferior,,. We are deprived'of the supernatural and.preternatural Preroga~tives¯ that. made him so extraordinarily perfe~t~a man. P~i0r fo baptism we lack the divine sonship he had; and so we come into the world as sinners. And even though.we-.recover tl~e . grace of divine sonshil3 in baptism, we lack the gift of integrity: and so we find in otirselves an unruly mass of conflicting .powers, the 10w~r at odds with the higheL th6 body unsubservient to the soul. We lack the gift of immor-tality,. and so we succumb to illness, wounds, gradual cor-ruption, and death. But if we regard only Adam's nature itself unperfected by any of these gifts, oar own natures ar'e just the same. Adam's-nature, left to itself, ,had the sameelements and equipment as otirs. If he had not had the gift of integrity-he. too w.ould, even without any sin, have experienced the same conflict among his faculties. His senses would have sought their own pro~er objects just as gtubbornly as ours do,-against the will's consent. 'His body .would have been exposed to illness, decant, and death. All this appears, quite reasonable. Our first pgrents, as ,they .actually were, with God's supernatur.al and preter- ' natural gifots added to" their natural make~up, were clearly superior to .tis. Bui if we disregard Whatever is preter-n~ atural arid supernatural, we headily seb th~at they .had the same nature as we their children have. : Only one thought, nagging at our memories of what We have heard and read, keeps thrusting forward an objdc-tion; we have been taught that, as a result.of original sin, ourintellects have been darkened and our wills have been weakened. This ii :the very statement in the elementary 221 (~YRIL VOLLERT Re~oiew for Religious catechis~ most 6f us have studied: "Our natur~ was cor-rupted by tl~e ~in of our fi~st parents, which darkened our understanding, weake.ned our will,.and left in us a strong inclination :to evil." ' ' This brings us to the heart of our discussion:, just what this statement means. It means that, without the gifts of original justice,'-particularly integrity and immortality, our minds are less able to acquir~e truth and our willsare less firm in pursuing good th.a.n if we had those, gifts. I~ does not mean that original sin has .intrinsically harmed our minds and wills so that their natural power to khow and ¯ will has b~en destroyed or i~apaired, ~ The doctrine taught by the familiar catechism of our childhood is of course true. But the trUth.admits of better wording; and the recent revision of this catechism puts the matter more clearly: "The chief punishments of Adam which we inherit through original sin are: death, .suffe)ing, ignorance, and a" strong inclination to sin." What~ever is taught by the ~.hurch about t.h~ darkening of the intellect and the weakenirig of. the~will can be under-stood, and actually is understood by .all great theologians;, in .the sense of a deterioration as compared .with the mind and will of man in the state of c;riginaljustice. .This is easily perceived, in .the °casfi of the will. God ~en~riche, d Adam;s nature, with the'gift of integrity, which lined up .all his powers and passions under, the control of his reason and will so that his animal appetites could not take the initiative in attracting ~him toward evil and could no~ prevail .against the command of'his will., In punish~ ment for his sin, Ad,am lost thisomarvelous gift for him-self and for all of us. We do not possess the gift of integ~ rity, and'so *there is lacking in us the perfect order among. our various powers ~and appetites which that~ gift would have proc~ured. In. other words, we are subject to unruly 222 dulq, 1946. ORIGINAL SIN AND EDUCATION c'oncupiscence, which means simply that each of our .appe-tites seeks its own good heedless of the good. of the whole person. When an attractive object confronts any of our senses, that sense can immediately reach out for the object quite independently of. the will's.consent, and even against the will's command. By that very fact our will is weakened. Concupiscence pulls us toward the tempting object even though we realize that taking it involves sin. We .may "already have reached out to seize it before the mind adverts to what we are doing: And even after the mind does take notice, the enticement still persists, the tug is still felt. We are much less able to resist the allurement than if the Senses were fully under our cohtrol. The will may say, "No!" Sense appetite says, "Yes!" And both will and sense appe- .,.rites. are mine. I am being torn between a higher and a lower good. I can resist, because :my will is still in charge. But often I give up; especially if, the battle is a long one. My will does not resist; I surrender, satisfy my lower craving at the expense of moral good, and so I sin. Adam in the state of original justice would have under-gone no such struggle. His will could simply have said, "No!" The sense appetite would, have straightway obeyed. Indeed, the sense appetite could not have been attracted to the object in the first place without the assent of the will. Therefore'my will is weaker than his; but only because.of the pull of concupiscence. My will, as a natural faculty just in itself, is in no way weakened by original sin. The same is the case with our intellect. Adam had a preternatural gift of infused knowledge. We have not. Therefore our understanding is dark as compared with his, for .his was bathed with divine light. If Adam had not ~inned, he would not have handed on his special, infused gift of knowledge to his descendants. For this knowledge 223 CYRIL VOLLERT Review [or Religious was a personal gift with-vc~ich God eciUipped the~fii~st-man, created.aS he Wasin adulthood in intimate communion with God and with a special office as teacher of the children.he was to beget. ~: ~ ._ ,. ~ - ~ :,~,.- ,~ Adam had, yev other endow, menfs~perfecdnghis intel-lect, Alohg with. the sanctifying grace that~ele~ated him to dupernatural heights went the infused'~virtues, theological and moral. Among these are faith and prudence,., which resided, in his intellect. These'he would h~ve~transmitted: But. he sinhed,~and,so could not. transmit sgnctifying grace and, all 'the:accompanying.gifts. We,~ born without.~sanc-tifying~, grace, begin life deprived of the infused virtues, .includidg " those ,.which would have.equipped ~our minds With a habitual~aptitude for higher truths, In this respect, too, our. minds are defective as com#ared with his before the Eall: . _ ~Bu~-here we must'consider another factor, which is :sel~ dora,well,brought out. In sinning, Adam~ lost, 'besi~h sanctifying grace>~ith its cortege of infused.'virtues, ,th~ preternatural~ gif~s~: of,integrity and immortality. with:~heqos£of, immortality~w_¢nt the loss of impassibility, 6r :immuflitw,.to~sfl.ffering, disease, and death~.,~:~His body was no longer.perfectl~ subject;to his sou.L: ~ ~ From' Adam.weinherit ~bgdies ~bereff of these~ gifts. .Not bnly are we sfibject to 'conCupiscence,~ b6t me-have .,bodies unprot&ted, from ~harm-bythe -g "~ "f t~s~ .:.o.~lm~"m -ortahty and impassibility.,. Ou~. souls are immorthl, ~but tEey ha.re not the' pow&~to i~part., i~mortality to bur bodies. ~us.left ,their nat6ral ~eakness; our bodies easily giveAn, to f~tig~e, .to a thousand different, diseases,',to, the decrepitude of advancing age, .and~:.to dissolution. All. this,,has weighty ~consequences for ~0ur ~no~ledg~ and our (apacity to learn. Obviously~ ,the,pull 0f-c6ncu~iscence,is a tremendous obstacle to the acquisition~of knowledge. Web.have a kin~ 224 ORIGINAL SIN AND EDUCATION ship for the concrete, the. sensible. Higher truths, especially the truths of theology, ,religion, and metaphysics, hav~ -little charm for most people. They waht to know and experience what is pleasant and easy. Whatever has a sur-face interest excites them. The clang of the fire-engine bell~ upsets the class; not only children in third grade but university students, and the professor himself, feel the urge fo rush to the window. Philosophy is hard put to it to rdsist the seduction of the radio. Mathematics runs a poor ~second to.movies. A game of ball in the nearby playground is. more fun than geography or arithmetic. Shakespeare. and Thackeray have less appeal than the funnies. Another important consideration, is the fatigue that goes with thinking. Continuity is essential to study. But the brain soon wearies and seeks distraction. Even under -the most favorable circumstances, sudh as absolute quidt. freedom from interruption, and robust health, mental con- ¯ centration is extremely hard work. We know how right Aristotle was When he remarked, "Learning is'accompanied by pain[" The experience of students is well formulat,ed in a wise man's saying that has passed into a p~overb.: "Knowledge maketh a bloody entrance." But ideal circumstances are rarely granted to us. Leisure for thinking is a luxury. The very necessity of caring for the bbdy's needs takes up the most valuable portion of our time and eneigies. The majority of mankind must spend half or more of each working day in sheer toil for bread~ What leisure is left is without the freshness of mind required for acti,~e thought. -Even when a person has leisure and opportunityfor learning, his bodily condition is often a deterrent to efficient °study. The eye too soon grows dim, and reading has to be rationed. Hayfeve-r, sinus infection, a cdld in the head, the hundrei:l ills that plague mankind, all. militate against the ¯- 225~ CYRIL VOLLERT ~ Revietu /or Religious attention, correlation, and penetration required for ¯ rained.thinking and for the mastery of but a single province of human kno,wledge. ~f~to such bodily distresses we add the emodonal~bias that s~ems froni concupiscence and ,impedes the disinter-ested pursuit of truth, if we take account of the environ-. mental restrictions that, as in Soviet Russia', block access to th~ sources of truth, and if with allthis we mix in the lying propaganda, rooted in selfishness or in bigotry,, that not only closes off truth but teaches error, we can go very far in explaining the darkening of our under~tandin.g that is a result of original sire , Truly, our ability to gain knowl-edge is grievo.usly inferior to that of Adam when, before he rejected God's grace, he was shielded from all these evils by his preternatural gifts of immunity to concupiscence, suf-f~ iing, and bodily dissolution. But our natural faculty of intellect was in no way intrinsically injured by original sin. Our intellect and our will are the same now, considered as purely natural perfec.-' tions, as they would have been if Adam had handed down to-us original justice instead, of original sin. Our intellec-trialand volitional inferiority results from our lack of the preternatural gifts that would have removed all obstacles to their perfect functioning. Such is the teaching of all front, rank theologians, a teaching based on their study of revelation. The punish-ment of original sin, St. Thomas notes, is restricted to the withholding of the supernatur;il goods gi:anted by God to. our first father-for transmission to his posterity.1 ~ Su;irez agrees with Aquinas: The common and true doctrine is that the powers of man or of his free will, rhgarded from the standpoint of the perfection they would ha~,e had in the state of pure nature, were not diminished in iCompendium Theologiae, 1 226 Julg, 1946 ORIGINAL SIN AND EDUCXTION fallen nature by original sin; they are inferior only when compare~' wxth the strength and integrity conferred on them by original jus-rice. -~ - St. Robert Bellarmine teaches the same doctrine: The corruption of nature resulted not from the lack of any natural gift, nor from the presence of any" evil quality, but from the . sole loss, owing to Ada~'s~sin, Bf the supernatural endowment.8 Thus the raw material of our educational endeavors is ~the boy or girl, the young, man or woman, with intelle'ct and will essentially unimpaired on the natural plaiae. Our aim in education should be to develop this goo,d natural equipment and to transfigure it with all the super-h~ itural ,goods Christ has given to the Church for t.he benefit of His brethren. Revelation, the Church, the sacraments, ~sanctifying grace,'the infused virtues and. actual graces and all that the Church_disp0ses of for building up the body of Christ must raise and0perfect the souli of men together with their" faculties, xspecially their powers of inteIlect and wiff. The proximate purpose of our educational work must be to train.the youth entrusted to us so to master thdmselves that, within ~he. supernatu0ral sphdre to which they have been re-elevated by Christ, they may pumue the Truth which is God, and embrace the Good, which is also God. The closest possible approxim:ition to the original in.tegrity must be the goal to which we lead our limping, students. This is no mean ambition for those whose life'long voca-tion lies in the classroom and on the campus. The same goal.is the one we religious propose to reach in our own self,education. But in addition to the bottom-less treasury of graces open to all Catholics, we enjoy,'in" our ascetical striv~ings, certain freedoms that can bring us much closer to the original freedom Adam had. Our privi-lege js brought home to us by the matchless,champion who ~DO gratia, prol. 4, c. 8, n. 5. 8De gratia primi hominis, . 5. 227 CYRIl., VOLLERT -upheld t~ae greatness of the religiot~s state against pertly attackers of his day~ ¯ The exercise of perfection requires that a person 'd6 away witl~ whate~'er can impede him from directing his affections wholly to God; ¯ for in~this consists the perfection of charity. There are'three obstacles of this sort. T14e first is the desire for external good£ This' is removed by the vow of poverty. The"second is the proclivity for pleasures of sense, among which lustful delight isthe keenest., This is surmounted by the vow ol~ chastity, The third obstacle is the deordination of th~ human will. And this.is corrected by,the,vow of " obedience.4 Thus with intellect and will intrinsically good and unspoiled in their natural soundness by original sin, we C~n with Ggd's grace'overc0me all hindrances and eventually make ou~r .own, in limited degree, the perfection of tl~e sec-. ond Ad:;m, J~sus Christ. We cannot, indeed, ever in this" life attain to the integrity of original justice; Christ did0not ~ restore that extraordinary privilege to redeemed man: ~ BuS as brothers and sisters of the God-man, or truer still, as living members of His body, we can get closer to the second ~dam, and therefore closer to God, 'than the first Adam was ~ in his primeval innocence. And so our last state can .be better ~han the first. ~ '~St.'Thomas, 8umraa, II-Ilae, q. 186, a. 7. A TIMELY PAMPHLET~ ':The Guide Posts of the Almighty to Perma~ient Industrial,Peace" presents a "plea for .the Ten Commandments as the only solid basis for lasting peace, industrial and international. The section which describes the rights and dutie~ of 'labor and management is particularly"excellent. Every emp!oyer and every laborer might well read this with profit. The pamphlet is from the pen of the Most Rev. Richard J. Cushin.g, D.D., Archbishop og Boston, and is published by the Radio Re151ies Press, St. Paul, ,Minnesota. Price: I0 cents. ~ 228 Concerning Dis :ra t:ions Charles F~ Donovan, S.d. THERE is an aspiration which I should like torecom-mend; yet I fear it might be misunderstood. It is: "Jesus, be my distraction." Now distractions are bad, they are sappers of spiritual energy, things to be avoided. And obviouslq we' do not intend to couple the name of Jesus with anything evil. But. there are certain characteristics of distractions which would be worthwhile if transferred to the thought of Our Lord, namely, their persistence, their fascination,.and their seeming ubiquity. It is these qual{- ties ofdistractions I have in mind when I say, '"3esus, be my distraction," which is a brief way of saying, ",lesus, be the magnet of my mind, the channel of my thoughts, the theme of my day from task ~o'task; when dut.y of any sort commands the center of the stage, lurk in the wings of my heart, and the moment I pause, the moment I am free ~et the spotlight of my soul rest on You alone." Every day at Ma~s the priest exhorts us, "'Sursttm corda'" (Lift up your hearts). And we respond,"Habemus ad Dorninurn'" (We have them lifted up to the. Lord). This lifting we reaflifm daily is not our passive elevation by God to the state of grace. When we receive grace,~Christ stoops and does the lifting. Yet even with grace we may remair~ earth-bound and inert. The lifting w~e profess when we say. "'Sursurn corda'" is an active elevation, our cooperation with Christ, an ~ffort to use His grace to meet Him on His own level. As Dora Augustine Baker puts it in the 'vigorous English of Shakespeare's time, we mean the "forced but very facile elevations of the will, that bluntly or blindly heaves itself up towards God." We-heave ourselves in spirit 229 CHARLES F. DONOVAN Review for Religious towards God in hope and love and joy. A distraction-, therefore, is truly a fail--not necessariI~ a fall in the sense of sin, btit a descent from the heights of communion with Christ. If we are habitually distracted we really should answer the priest, "'Habemus ad humum'" (Our hearts are fixed on the earth, on dust, on our own level). There is a fervor, a preoccupation with God which in the face of a present and pressing tluty, like signing checks or making out report cards, could be called a distraction. Some of the saints have been "bothered" by such distrac-tions. Saint Ignatius, 'for instance, sometimes had to be dispensed' from reading the Office because during it he would experience ecstasy and thus be kept from other daily business. Saint Teresa was often afraid to think of God, lest she experience some divine visitation that wquld interfere ~vith her work or embarrass her in public. BUt most of us need have no worry about such piotis distrac-tions. It is not often the thought 6t? God-that makes us' shabby workers. Our trouble is generally not that prayer keeps us from mundane things but that mundane things keep us from prayer. Our mind-wandering tends to be from God to creatures, the kind of distraction to wh{cb that religious referred who complained, with healthy self-criticism, that his new superior conducted-such prolonged ~zisits at chapel after meals that he ran out of distractions and had to' pi~ay. Now if we really have .our hearts lifted ad Dominum, if our habitual tendency and spontaneous impulse is to think of Jesus, then distraction in prayer becomes not impossible, but at least unpleasant and of slight Spiritual d~nger, like a ¯ fly buzzing around our prie-dieu. There are also distractions whicb occur all day !ong even in non-prayer time, but which don't actually keep us from our work. These are, therefore, rather potential thah 230 July, 1946 CONCERNING DIS, TRACTIONSj real distractions. Theyare our worries, our enthusiasms, our pet interests, the things which are just outside the. focus of our attention or just below the surface of consciousness, to whichthe mind tends to revert over and over dttring the day. If these concerns, these potential distractions,-are intense, the person who has them is said to be preoccupied or to "have something on the mind." Wouldn't it be won-derful if we were so intimate with Our Lord that we could be said to have Jesus on our mind? Of course, that is the ambition of all religious, to be so in love with Our Lord that He is our dominfint interest, our hobby, the object of . our ardent enthusiasm, our companion day and l~ight. Finally, there are the distractions which we seek, favor-ire" topics to which we let: our mind lazily turn in moments of relaxation, familiar themes which we find congenial and. particularly helpful when we are trying to get to sleep. The subjects that we choose for such distractions are indicative of our spiritual health. _The old saying, "Tell me~ whom you, go with and I'll tell you what you are," is applicable to mental as well as to persgnal companions. If wespon-taneously- turn to worldly thoughts, then we a.r.e very probabl); worldly ourselves. If our favorite reveries are spiritual, our character is most likely spiritual. Habitual 'and sought distractions, the recurrent musings of our idle moments, can be of tremendous influehce in our - spiritual lives. They not only indicate character; they also form character and spiritual taste. Wl~at we think ofand enjoy thinking of~when we are free, when the rule is not directing us, and the choice of mental occupation is up to ourselves, both manifests and shapes the inner self., These chosen reveries can be the occasion when temptation is most .likely to assail us. They can be little secret escapes from the cloister and from the spirit of religious life. Therefore it is of first importance that we cultivate lofty and holy 231 CH'ARLES F. DONOVAN mental companionships so that our idle moments will be in keeping with the tone of our religi0,us profession and will strengthen rather than dissipate our religious spirit. As ~ Kempis says (Bk.iii, ch.58)~ "That cometh in'to my mind which by custom pleaseth me best to think upon: and where my thought is accustomed to be, there is that which'~I love." What nobler~ theme, what~holief com-panion gould we have for our unpres~ribed and effortless meditations than Our Lord Jesus Christ? Wouldn:t we be in a blissful state of spiritual perfection if~. during the day's work we looked forward eagerly to those moments of rest, especially the moments ~ before sleep, when-we would be able to think easily and lovingly of. ,lesus, and say with the poetess, "I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart?" In Case You Donq: Know It-- The Catechetical Guild Educational Society publishes a first-class magazine entitled Catholic Youth. $1.50 per year, for ten issues: 15" cents pet"copy; quantity rates to ~chools and churches on r~quest. Write to: CatholicLYouth, 128 E. Tenth Street, Saint Paul. I" Min-nesota. Another Catechetical Guild project is Post-Reporter, Catholic Youth's own newspaper. It is published every second Monday during the school year. $1.00 for full school year; 5 cents for single copies: bulk rates on application. ¯ Address, as above. The Dominicari Fathers~'of the Province of St. Albert tile Great publish The Young Dominican for the benefit of young men~ho aspire, to become Dominican students. The paper is attractive and informative. Copies are sent.on request. Address requests to Brother Bede's Mail Box, Dominican House of Studies, River Forest, Illinois. The Missignar~r 'Sisters of Mother of God recently began publi-cation of The.Ark, "a. monthly periodica, l devdted to ecclesiastical and' cultural affairs, p~rticulaidy Of Eastern Rites." "Subscription: $2.00 per year; 25 cents per copy. 232 Sain : Appeared Clement J. McNaspy, S.J, AM WRITING this just after giving Holy Commumon in.one.0f the.'most favored and sacred spots in our coun-try. It is the nearby convent infirmary. .The com-municant was a lay sister of the Religious of the Sacre'~d Heart. I don't know her name. The convent is .really c~alled the College of the Sacred Heart; it is located in Grind Coteau, Louisiana. If you have never heard of Grand Coteau, let me assure you.that it is one ~f the least worldly villages anywhere. T.here is no motion picture in town. There is not even a chamber of commerce. A stranger would probably~call it a "sleepy" town. Yet few towns in the United States have known such spiritual activity. For one. thing, Grand Coteau boasts a retreat house where the spiritual, exercises are made almost weekly by sizable groups of laymen. There is too a desuit-novitiate within the city limith; and no ridigious need be tol~l that a novitiate can hardly be called a "sleepy" place, especially at recreation time. But Grand ,Cot ea 'u s c.laim to. veneratioo goes far .beyond this. o As you ~drive'along Louisiana. Highway No; 5 toward the. outskirts of the village of Sunset, you are sta~rtled by a garish-(fortunately, somewhat fadi'ng) 'placard: National Shrine, Saint A15peared Twice." ~An'd the sign points to Grand Coteau.,Jhidden beneath pines and oaks and moss, one mile north of the highway. -l~his gives away Grand Coteau's secret. One of the very few first-class miracles performed in the United Sta~es and officially accei0ted by the Church took place th.ere, in ¯ that very infirmary where I w.as just privileged to gi~re 233 CLEMENT J. MCNASPY Review for Religious Holy Communion. No, the miracle didn't happen yester-day. Yet o'nly a few weeks a~o we buried ninety-six year old "Tante Yomme," who when in school at'the convent had been a witness of the miracle, the last surviving wit-ness. Besides, private archives have a way of annihilatink even decades of years; and the kindness of Reverend Mother Superior of th~ College of the Sacred Heart has put into my hands these treasured documents, original affidavits and first hand descriptions. It is engaging to read among them Sister Mary Wil-son's personal account: how she was cured of~a disease diagnosed as incurable. There glo.w warmth and imme-diacy in the young novice'-s story. She hurries along, ingenuously, simply, impatient of conventional syntax and punctuation, not even careful to sound completely consist-ent. Here are her own words, as copied from the document heretofore unpub!ished.1 Tie very next day (December 10, 1866) I was worse than I had ever been before up to that time, all hope of getting better abandoned me; I felt getting weaker and my sufferings were so intolerable that it seemed to me that it was impossible to bear them long--Given up by the Doctor I disposed myself to receive the.Holy Viaticum this was oix the 10th of December and on the llth the Father gave me the - last Plenary Ifidulgence. One of our dear Mothers brought me a picture of Blessed Berch-marts on~the 6th and said that the community was going to make another Novena to Blessed BerchmansI looked at Mother and in my incredulity asked her, if there was any other saint left that they had not already importuned; for my dear Mothers and Sisters had already made so many novenas that I thought neither God nor the Saints were willing to confer any favor upon me ". I do not think I had eaten an, ounce of food for about forty days, during that time I had taken nothing but a little Coffee or ,tea which" for a week before I recovered, I could no longer take; and for two weeks no medicines had been administered--the Doctor said 1To facilitate reading, dashes have been inserted in the text. 1946 "SAINT APPEARED TW~rCE'' it was useless 'to torture me more so he stopped giving me any; the last two days I was unable to swallow even a drop of water . ¯ Owing to the condition of my mouth and fongue it was greatly feared I would not be able to swallow the Sacred Host--the Father therefore gave me but a sm~ill particle~it was with great difficulty that I could receive even this; the Father perceiving it remained b~; my bed,side with ciborium in hand until he had the perfect assurance that I had swallowed it,~this however could only be affected by means of a teaspoonful of water, and attended by. intense palm Being Unable to speak I said in my heart: "Lord, Thou who seest how much I suffer if it .be for your honor and glory, and the salvation of my soul I ask through the intercession of Blessed Berch-mans a little relief and health, otherwise give me patience to suffer to the end, I am resigned"--then placing the. image of Blessed Berch-mans on my mouth, I said: "if it be true that you can work miracles, I wish you would do something for r~e,--if not I will not believe in you. ~I can say without s~cruple or fear of offen'ding God, I heard a voice whisper: '~Open your mouth." I do so as well as I felt some one put as it were their finger on my tongue and immed~ ately I was re|ieved. "I then heard a voice say in a distinct and loud tone: "Sister, you will get the desired habit, be faithful, have confi-dence, fear not!" I had not yet opened my eyes, I did not know who was by my bedside I turned around and said aloud: "but Mother Moran I am well"--then standing by my bedside I saw a figure he held in his hand a cup, and there was some lights burning near him--at this beautiful sight I was afraid--I closed my eyes and asked: "is it Blessed Berchmans", He answered: "Yes, I come by the order of God, your sufferings are over, fear not !" I opened my eyes but he was gone. The Sister infirmarian had gone down to the chapel to receive Holy Communion. I sat up in the bed I felt no pain. I was afraid it was an illusion and that my cure was not real--I turned over and over in the bed but without pain--I then exclaimed: "It is true, Blessed Berchmans has cured me." , The Sister infirmarian soon returned from the Chapel and made her'act of thanksgiving before a little altar in the, infirmary. I did not speak to her: in about three quarters of an hour Mother Superior came in to see me, fearing at the same time to find me in the agonies of death,--but what was not her great surprise when she met my eyes which had not been opened for six days and heard me wish 235 CLEMEN'T J. MCNASPY Review ?or Religious her good morning. Mother in utter amazement drew back and exclaimed: "and what, those eyes!" then s~eing my mouth perfectly healed.she added: "that mouth!" On and on, page after page, Sister Mary Wilson details her dreadful illness, how the doctors had given .up ,hope, and the aftermath of her cure. Equally impressive, also in these archives, are the sworn accounts of D~octors James G. Campbell and Edward Millard, both.of whom certify, in stolid.professional language, to the miraculo~us cure. Dr. Millard concludes in these words: N(~t being able to discoveb any marks of convalescence, but an immediate r'eturr~ to health from a most sever~ and painful illness, I am unable to explain the transition by any ordinary natural laws. I hereby declare under the sanctity of.my oath that the above state-ment, according to the~best of my knowledge and belief is entirely true. (Sig1~ed) Ed. M. Millard. M.D., Grand Coteau, La., Feb. 4th, 1867. Sister Wilson's close friend, Mother Moran, has for-tunately also left ah eyewitness account. Her sisterly sympathy for the young postulant so .eager to receive the habit is felt as we read along: ' Wednesday evening, Miss Wilson asked me if it was night; for her eyes being continually closed, she could not distinguish' between night and day.On hearing my answer, she rejoined: "I never more expect to see the l.ight of day. I cannot pbssibly endure such suffering much longer." - She then with perfect composure gave me several commissions, requesting me t~ attend to their execution after her death; she expressed her lfiappiness in dying at the Sacred Heart (Convent), and entrusted me with the expressing of her thanks for all her Mothers and Sisters from whom, she said, she had received so many p~oofs of affection and tender charity. Her weakness was so great, that-her voice was scarcely audible, and she spoke with such difficulty that it required over an hour to articulate these few" words. Next morning I was surprised to fintl her still living: this day, Thursday,. certainly surpassed all that had preceded, in the intensity-of pain; her half opened mouth displaying a tongue swollen, inflamed and raw, gums and teeth all 'clotted with black corrupted 'blood, 236 "SAINT APPEARED TWICE" excited an involuntary sensation of horror followed by a deeper ,senti-ment of the most. tender compassion in every one. who saw her in this condition. Mother Moran goes on to tell how exulta~ntly Sister Wilson leaped from what was thought her deathbed, and she reports the physician's reaction when he ~ame to visit his dying patient: Not being able to assign any natural ~ause capable of producing such an effect, .he several times repeated: '~Really, Miss Mary, I can-not understand it! But one thing is certain, if you recover, it is cer-tainly' not to medicine or to my care that you are to attribute your cure." - Among other interesting documents from the convent archives are the-sworn testimonies of Fathers Nachon, Benausse, and Serra, all from th~ nearby. Jesuit college, who had assisted the postulan.t with the last sacraments. Each of these Fathers writes in his own hand, in a personal way, with distinct individual touches. As you read along you wonder if they thofight it odd of Blessed John Berchmans to by-pass his own brethren's house to appear in a neigh-bo~ ing community. If they felt sensitive on this point they surely show no-indication of it: in fact, they seem almost proud that the Blessed had chosen one of their spir-itual charges to work perhaps his greatest miracle. More arresting, probalSly because less technical and formal, is a letter from Father Na~hon to a. Miss M~ry Perry, who would seem to be a non-Catholic. Writing enthusiastically just four dfiys filter the miracle, the~Father tells ~f tlqe fl~ry ~tirred up fill around Grarld Coteau~ ~The moral that he draws is~ possibly .l~ss significant in ourbwn. claywhen Loubdes and Fatima are so widely talked about. He writes: You see, child, that the time of miracles is not entirely passed away. There is nothing astonishing for us Catholics, since we know that~the saints are powerf.ul with God and that nothing is impos- 237 CLEMENT J. MCNASPY sible to God. We may rejoice it has happened amongst us because it excites us to devotion, and contributes to. animate our faith. No wonder that the Archbishop of New Orleans immediately started canonical proceedings to investigate the miracle.' Rome moves proverbially slowly, l~ut after tire-less probing and cross-examination the Church was at length satisfied and set its seal of approval on 'the mirac~- lous healing. It was officially accepted for the canonization of the young Blessed; who henceforth is' thought of as peculiarly belonging to Grand Coteau. For generations now the citizens of the little village have simply taken their privilege for granted. They are not at ali surprised that Heaven should have chosen Grand Coteau to break through to earth. And visitors usually make just that comment. For there are visitors to Grand Coteau, even though no one pushes publicity. Thereare the devoted alumnae who return to dear "Coteau" to see favorit~e old teachers or justthe hallowed, tastily land-scaped grounds. Students of the modern college, and academy attract relatives'and friends. And often enough devotees of azaleas, live-oaks, or Acadian lore are drawn to Grand Coteau. All these, quite naturally, spend some time in prayer in the infirmary. Periodically a .group of" retreatants from the retreat house will also come, and once a year the Jesuit novices and scholastics pay a pilgrimage of homage to their young con-frere. "The small room where the apparition took place has been cony6rted iiato a tiny chapel dedicated to St. John Berchmans. Onl~ two quiet mu~al~ and a notice placed where.the Saint stood remind one that this is one of Ameri-ca's treasUred shrines. "° " ,238 , A Pla°n of.Sei -denial Wi!:hin :he Reach of All Robert B. Eiten, S.J~ ~N ~CATHOLIC LIFE the principle of self-denial holds ~an important place. Yet it is a fact known to all that in i?his~ matter of self-denial there is danger of going to extremes--of failing either by defect or by excess. Those :who are too ,easy on themselves practically exclude the likelihood or even the possibility Of their reaching high perfection.; they go against the injunctions of Our Lo~d and the Chur.ch, and they oppose the common teaching .of ascetic writers. On the other hand, those who overstep their powers and go to the other extreme run the risk of broken health, shattered nerves, and even the loss of vocation. These latte} try to follow a special path without a special c,all; with only ordinary g.races at their dispoiaI they try to follow a way of life that is possible only with .e~xtraordinary grace. There havd tJeen, and there are, souls who have a special vocation to continuous heroic mortifica-tion and even vOluntarily-sought sufferings. These souls need" particular guidance; what we say here is not for them. But concerning those souls--whether priests, religious, or lay peoplemwho Seek high perfection with the aid, at least normally, of only ordinary graces, one might ask.: What~measure "of self~denial and mortification is to be expected of~ them? The answer to this question is~ con-tained in the following program. 1. To begin with, a large number of acts qf-self, abnega,ti0n and mortification can be practiced by ca?~fullg observing the Commandments, thelaws of the Church, and 239 ROBERT B. EITEN for Religious the duties of our state of life includiag the rules and customs of_our religious institute; and by patientl~l bearing those sufferings which a life of carff, ul and reasonable fidelity to grace imposes on us. This does not mean that one will never slip here and there;, for to observe peffectt~l over a long period of time the rules of at least some religious insti-tutes requires special graces over and above the ordinar!l or~es.~, It is well for religious to remember that this is no small program; for a careful observance of the rules makes. great demands in the matter.of self-effacement and morti-fication. St. 3ohn Berchmans declared that the common life was his greatest mortification. 2. Many sufferings, hardships, sorrows, and denials come to us in the ordinary pro.vidence of God. Some~times Divine Providence makes great demands. This was the case during Wokld War II when many, besides sufferingth~ loss of dear ones, had to er~dure such things as destruction of property, poor wages, nearly impossible rationing limi-tations, and so on. It is clearly the will of God that we bear such sufferings at least without complaint, and patiently. Sufferings of this kind may come to us from queer, sorts of cau.ses, cond.itions,, a~nd occasions. They~ .m~,ay come from superiqrs.,I from e~quals,, o.r frominferio, rs; from.t,he i~justice and frqm the justic~e of. others; from ,the sins, o.r.even from the generous but tastl~ss cha~rit, y of°others; or from inani-mate. creation, as~ ~n, othe cas~ "of bad Weather, t~ornadoes, floods, and so fbrth. 3: The, well-estab!ish.e~l and reasonable c.onventions, of polite society which make for proper refinement;~etiquette, ci~lture, neatness, and general social decency, algo provide 1Obviously the fact that we might be assisted only by ordinary graces should never be a pretext for carelessness in observing our rules. Thus we must seriously apply ourselves to their observance as far as we can and ask.God for the h~elp needed tO observe them perfectly. 240 _ '." ~JuJv, 194~5 ~ ~ ~ A PLAi~I OF.SELF-DENIAL~ ~ ~_ ~mucb material for self-abnegation and restraint. We, ought -~to respect these conventions" i'n a spirit of love" of the neigh-bor for the love :of,God since-these things make'life more ~ livable. Theie is r;o reason why their observance cannot-be ~upernaturali~ed. Included here are, such-things as table _ .manners, which should be exquisitely delicate but Without _.affectation; deanlinehs and neatness about our person,. office,- and room; .proper restraint in both the quality and.~ oquant~tg of' food; proper deference shown towards certain /persons.by reason of their age, sex, and rank;~ politeness and the avoidance of all vulg~arity; and, in general,, restraint in our conversation. "- Here it is well to include the mortification involved correcting deflects of disposition" and character. These -('&fects make Us deficient and negligent in the performance . our,duties and their are annoying to others. Slipshod .work, absent-mindedness, failure to return things, frequent boast" fulness, sarcastic language, a ~failure to keep appointments, "all are examples of the defects here referred to. In brief, we should always be and act the perfect, cultured Christian~ gentleman. We may well keep in mind St. Anthony'.s saying_that a saint would be-at home in any society. Such. deportment too (to dwell on another point casually) would be an effective means of fostering and getting voca, tions, oY°Ung people would be fascinated by what they. see -in us and would want to share with us that life which seems _to bring with oit, as it should, such refinement, culture, and fine iense .of propriety. ~ 4. Besides the foregoing instances of the cross which, ° wd~might say, are imposed upon us, there still remain mor~ ~tificati0ns and sufferings which we freely impose on our-~ Selves. ~ In other words they are entirety-voluntary, ~vith-" ' out° any obligation of i~recept or necessity~ All founders ROBERT B. EITEN ~-°-~ " ' Reti~ew for Religious; -of tel.i~i6us orders and all great spiritual~ writers, agree that voluntary penances are in some way an essential element of serious" tending towgrds perfection. Besides-the exercise humility and the cross, these v~oluntar~r penances prsvide,.~ for the.exercise of other virtues. o True, these voluntary mortifications must be practiced° prudently .and under the directi6n of the superior or of a goqd spiritua~l director. Norm.ally we should not, orat least need not; wait for them to propose what v61untary mortifications are to be practiced. Usually such things as ¯-spiritual attractions, reading, the insi)irations of gra~e, and~ so forth will suggest to us what might be done. After thiriking over the matter seriously, we propose, to .our. superiors or spiritual directors what vol~untary mortifica~ tions we .would like to practice. We then follow out their directions. This obedience will protect us against excesses ",in ~ith~r direction. Of course.no one needs permission to practice any of the mortifications mentioned or suggested under No. 3~ above.~ In spite of all the safeguards provided,by consulting,, and following the advice of superiors and spiritual diiectors in this matter, there remain sd,me obscurity and uncertainty - as to what and bow much voluntary mortifica.tion should ¯ be undertakenl An excellent practice might be, perhaps~. to,ask God to. send us in His providence those physical and , mental sufferings which are proper to help us reach.tl'iat~ d~gree o~ perfection to which He has called us. Such a request, if it is sincere, includes the firm resolve to conform ~ourselv~s to His will in all sufferings and hardships__w~hich He-may fiend us. ' 5. Fi~nally, it is not too much to expect fervent souls to, have at least the desire to .desire affronts, humiliationk re~'roaches, misunderstandings, and so forth. A better, dis- positidn:wouldbe to d~slre, tolong for, and to love thes~;~: ver~ things just to be like Qbrist and to help Him mo~e~" ~ffectively in the great workof the redemption. : However . ~ofi"hcco~nt of human misery and frailt~ a soul might.not these ~eneroOs dispositions. If' one has, howeqer, the'desire_to desire these things, he is by that very .disp0si-tion ~rep.aring himself for an actual desir~ and love of. :~ffronts, humiii~tions, and.so on. 7 " Here we might add that souls ought to try to mairftain a ~pi~i~ of cheerfulness in all circumstances of life; whether -'these be e'asy to bear Or very tr~ring. S. uch a spirivadds much, me~it ~and abnegation to mortifications alrea'dy practi, ced. 'A~nd how such a c6nstaht cheerfulness impresses others f, or. the better! To be cheerful at all times're~u~ires gr.eat abne-gation- anal perhaps at times a special grace.Well mi.ght We, ask,God to give us this .grace. ,,:o ~ The t~oreg~ing program of self-denied seems to be pos-sible for all. No one-will ~oncede that- it is an easy one; ~and, yet no' one can Say that it is impossible. It is sweetly: r_easonablg, not violent; yet it will make us like Christ ~Crfi~ified and will make us active collaborators with Him in the g.reat work of the redemption. '~?' P~erh£ps someone, may ask why nothing has been said~ ,.~bout gictim souls, that is, souls who offer themselves and their whole lives with all the sufferings, ti:ials, humilia-tions, mortifications, and so forth contained:therein to Gbd ::.~":jus~ as Christ did upon His entrance into the~ world °-(.~f: Hebrews 10: 5-10.) By. way of reply we may say that: souls who feel themselves supernaturally" urged to ~:his kind of offering, may follow si~ch an urge. Obviously tl~e motive for so doin~ may vary. ,It might, for example be to offer self for the' same intentions that .Christ had; or tb fill':up in one own s flesh~ what is wanting in C.hnstos ¯ o - . 243 ~ROBERT B,~ EI~TEN = ,~, ~ pfission~ fOr"~the Church.-- f.~Colos~sians 1 : 24~ 5 : Thi~--- ~victim-life, th~s.3pds(Slgte-of the cross and suffe)~ag; i~ ¯ grand:vocation., It does not, however, n~cessarilg in~olve~. any more moriifica~ions tha~ tBose~ we have ~mentioned,butT only gives special force to the ~o~i)e f6~ beating them:. _ If however there is question of a victim-sohl in the limited sensd that is, of one who_ ~sks for exceptional ~uffe)i.ng, what should be done? .No~ally,~one should~ not ~.permitt~d to makesuch'a request for-sufferi~g,~asq~ -may show a lack of humility and can emily lead to illu- ~s~ons( But if it is clear that an-individaal-has a special vocation for this type of life, then such a one should fi~stbe thoroughly,t~sted. After suNcient p~oof of the call to such a l'ife of ~uffering, the soul may offer itself to God in this very cult vocation. ~ ' "' " Let us hope that the abov~ Pr9grhm wiil clarify -'t}rs,fo~ us and that we.may "by the mercy of God"~present :our '"~odies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto"God; ~0fir] re~sonable service" (Romans 12;, 1).= . ~I am 'much indebted to De Smedt (NOtre vie surnaturelle, volume 2, "pp.~472 252) not only for much of the ~aterial- found here but also in some wag fdi~the i~spiiation to write this article. ~ -~ .APP[AL5 FOR VOCATIONS ~ .~ ~he following vocation folders and pamphlets rely chiefly on excelle~t and well cffosen photographs to make their appeal: Modern Samaritans, from the NoVitiate "df~ the Alexian Brothers. Clayto~. Missouri: How about gou? (an appeal t~pros~ pective ~riest candidates) and Co~e In (an appeal for fay. Brothers), b6th from "~th~ Dominican House of Studies. River Forest, Illinois:'A Life to Give, from th~ Sisters of St. Casimir, 26.01 W. Marquette Road, Chicagq 29, Illinois: Dominican Sisters: St. Marg o~ the Springs, from the Novitiate.-St. Mary 6f tile Springs, Columbus 3. Ohio;Whg a Hospital Sister? by Rev. Dr. L. Rumble. M.S.C., fiom Radio Reply Press, St. Paul, Minnesota. * Our Ladg's Fz, ends, by Rev. Ju~ Senieur, O.F.M.Cap., describes the work t~e R~gina ~leri Society for the spiritual and financial suppprt of priestly and reli-'~ gious vocations. It. is .published by the Catholic Uni4ersity Cofiference of-Clerics and Religmus. C.S.M.G,, Cathohc Umverslty, Washmgtqn 17, D. C.~ . :~ '-- " 244 - "~,HE visitor,~a gray-hai~ed alumnlus of th~ college~, ~was [~, movifi~ about the° crowded recreation room o[ the faculty" friars, greetirig old acquaintances and ~aking new ones. He approached a card table where, over unfin-ish~ ed pinochle, three.~ unfamiliar friars stood awaiting him. "Tom Casey, class of '13," he ~smiled brgadly, hand extended. "Onesimus," .smiled back the first. "Eleuthe[ rius," smiled back the second. "Symphorianus, smiled the third. And albeit no stranger to Franciscan-phenomena. Tom Casey, class of '13, blinked hard and made a que4~r frog-like noise in°theback of his throat. "Where do you peo131e[get those names?'" he dazedly wondered. Here were names not found.~ven in his prayey-book Litany of the~Saints-though .surely there are enough odd ones in that long list! NOr had he ever, iffal[his long years and his wide travels, encountered those names among the living. If~the~y reminded him~of anything~subsolar at all, it:wa~ of Pullman sleeping cars---or of the Latin play in hi~:.4ophbfiiore year:~or of just" plain "printer's pie:' '~ What a downright shame, his meditation concluded, that nbr~ m~il"youhg men, oprobably christened :John, Wflham, Pat-rick; should now have to confront mankind as Oneslmus, "Eleutherlus, Symphorianus! -~ ~" Undoubtedly,~the religious n~mes of many of~us~d6 ~starfli~ the si~cular eai. They may at first hav~ ~tarfiede v~e ~n our ~own. Wi~: i~robably had "h.oped for something, con[ ventio~al; but the superior, with the finality"~of Z~icl-Jar~, siinply ~declared, "This is hi~ (or her)" r/am'e," and uttered bizarre syllables. A'ndothat was'that. Or, if permitted to CLAUDE KEAN Review for Religious choose our names, we probably found the community's nomenclature as depleted as Kresge counters at closing time on Christmas Eve; and what we got was what all earlier customers hadjudiciously foregone. So the names that many ,of us bear are admittedly unusual. Are they, therefore, absurd? Or may it not be that, compared with the proper names of many layfolk (names which were selected from unrestricted possibilities), our abnormal names are actually quite normal? or oub apparently mean-ingless names are at least relatively, fraught with remark-ab, le significance? From stray evidence now and then I have long sus-pected that the answer lies in our favor. From a half-hour of recent research, I now know for certain that it does. The "research" consisted in a mere scanning of proper names in the.telephone book of a representative eastern clty of the United States. Under the A alone, I found a hundred proper names, male and female, much morfi extravagant than any ever imparted to friar or monk or Sister¯ or Brother. ' To be specific, who. of us, even though destine~dot9 teach geography, is named Maryland, .or Virginia,; 6r,Columbia, or Dallas; or St,aten, or~ Reno? O~who of u~, e,ve ~n~th0.u.gh a ngt,ed nature-lover,. ~ . .bears the. name of Fern,~.~,or,Ivy, or Myrtle, or Reed, or. Violet, or, Daisy,~ or Pansy?., ~ Or ,who of .us, e.ven,thgugh avowedly interested in the classic, long,ago," wears toga-like the name of Homer, or Ca.to, or ~.~Virgil, or Caesar, or th~ myrtle-laden name of Phoebe, or Penelope, or Vesta? Or what choleric character among us is openly known as'Hasty?--what phlegmatic as Tranqu.ilisim~?-- what cynical as Burr?mwhat loquacious as Verba or Vow, els? Yet, as the telephone book plainly attests, laymen who possess these given names do walk and breathe, 246 SPEAKING OF NAMES A few names that occur-under theosame letter A savor of surrealism: Bushrod,.Hedgecomb, Hunk, Whip. Others would seem to suggest endearment: A1icebelle, Birdie, Bowie, Dernie, Goldie, Hommey,-Libby," Shorey, Sibbie, Trudie, Wadie. A sizeable percentage looks yearningly,- though uncertainly, towards the glory that,was Rome and the grandeur that was Greece: Aetha, Al"eathea, Cleora, C1evius, Euna, Iola, Lathena, Lesbia, Nova, Orpha, Thea. Several others walk in veiled oriental mystery: Arsinoe, Bayan, Desma, Zelma, Zetta. There is something of a faded Elizabethan charm in Clift, Bourne, Dell, Teare; and something suggestive Of remote constellations yet undiscovered in Arie, Angrous, Elsir, Louv~enia, Norment, Ord, Sigrid. The rest, howeyer symbolic, are not ~iuite clear in their allusions, and must be listed as mere vocables: Alonda, Armeita, Awillda, Beekman, Belva; Buxton," Demleta, Ena, Grice, Kermit, Lola, Lona, Lora, Ponten-ciano, Reta, Rulloda, Velma, Wilda, Worth. Now, it is no concern of mine--apart from the admin-istration of baptismmwhat names people bestow upon 'their offspring. In the exercise' of American freedom of expression, they may even, if they so wish, prefer numbers to names. (Ripley discovered not long ago anAmerican youth with the proper name of "Eleven."). Nor-do I in the least imply that odd names denote odd characters, that "that which we do call a rose by any other word would" not "smell as sweet." My sole contention is that, as mere~ alphabetization, the secular nomenclature equals in singu-larity, and .frequently even excels, the religious. And ~he Bell Telephgn¢ Company is. my star witness. But names are more than vocables: they are symbols. And the modern secular trend in names indicates the com-plete secularization of modern thought. Gone now are 247 CUAUDE KEAN Review/:or .Religious the.days~when~ the-names of~_men-=:as well as of the,ships they° sailed,and the ,new lands they discovered--were drawn from the rich vocabulary ~of Catholk,Faith. Gone,~ too, for the most part, are the days when devout Protestants turned to their Bibes in search of worthy nami~s for their newborn. In an age turned materialistic, men are more and mor'e taking ~their names not from God's great, but~from the:world;s great: from poets and philosophers of, a~cient Rome and Greece;. from~literati~urs of later eras (my tele: phone~ list includes Milton, Addison, Scott, Emerson, Haw-thorne~) ; from .modern scientists, like Burbaiak and Edison, and modern statesmen, like Roose~celt and Churchill. ° In even'.m6re articulate expressionof, th~ materlahstlc spirit if has now b~6m~ th~a~epted prhctice tona~e pkr-s6ns fiot¢.Mte~ other persons~ but affei things hft~r flbra . and:fauna,~ and geograpb~cal~it~s; and '~vefi mechanical objects.~ -This~ ph~ndmenbfi wOuld, to~do:i~'.ju~tlce~ ~req~i~ a Chesterton's~afysis: :.~ut,ev~n'on tge gu~face~ ~4t, to c~!l,~a.gifl ~'Petunia;,)'.;~or a;boy "Ohio", or '~Derrick":. '(and theg~ does.~,exist, a.[.b~y with: that name), is2 nbt]perceptibly ~ny;~more~?ra.tio~al.~,than. to. call ~a ~favorite .p.etuma.~ . Ger-tr~ fle,:5,or~.the stxte of OhiO~"Harold,'' or a~derrick,,,on 4be property', , "~ rl' .~1,~,- .".d" " , ¯ '~ '~ -,-~ ~. - :~ ~TBa'~: be ,to,hea~n, ~he~.figm?s" that we~rehg~ous-bear ar~,the -names obpersons. , ~nd" at"that,~ no ord~narF per-sgns: -Pe~ha~s~hose'p~rs6nshv~d m~the fat-off ~ast. "Per-ha~ little' i~'kfiooh Oaboot-them~x~pt ,tfi~t "a ~N~o or'3 Tr/j~h~r'~fi ,Diocletiah ~Ut th~ to death:; W~rid has not e~n th~"vag~egt memory 6f~the~.~-'rYet~they are the truly gr~at"~of"the 'h6~an race;.and ~God knows them~well., In their :flames ~we have inherited a, lustrous lggacy~ of honor, ~ special tide-to: protection and~aid. And in-.those names~ we h~ve~,6ur~inspiration fovholy living and DECISIONS OI/: THE HoLY SEE. dying--as :Ruskin .words it; . l~ifting hol.y hands without-wraith, and sinking to blessed ~sle~p.withoht fear." So what 6dds if ~the lay-w0rld pities 0r plllor,es us fdr ohr names? 0 What odds if not one person in ten cab pro~ nounc~e those, names fl~uently, and~,,not one in twenty can ~spell them correctly? We know the inner worth of those flames. And as to their ,outward form, well, an occasional glance at the telephone book will afford us unfailing peace hnd satisfaction. ~ .~o~yember'21, 1945:o The Sac~'d P~nite£tiary announced th~/t His " Holiness Pope'Pius XI~i in ari audience granted to the Cardiri~l Pen[- . tenfiary M~jdr ~n Ndve~ber 8, 1~45, h~d gracio~s~ grafit~d t~al indulgence o~ fifty days to the f~thful who devoutly,k~ss the ring of a p~efect apostohc. Th~s ~s t~ same indulgence which the faithful may gain by devoutly k~ss~ng the r~ng of an archbishop or bishop (Pr~es et Pta O~era, n. ~}0). Prefects apostohc are prelates'in m~s~ slon countries who govern a t~rr~tory call~ a prefecture apostohc. Usua!ly they. are not b~s~ops: h~fi~ the special ~r~nt recbunt~d 'abd~. Pemtent,ary answered ~ree questions regarding the p~ous exerc,se of the Way qf the Cross: I. According "to a decred.,dated August 6, 1757, it~ is~provided that for the pious exercise~0f the Way df the Cross, when otherwise a disturbance might be daused, a~priest and two clerics or cantors may ~ake the rounds, pausing at each station and reciting the accustomed prayers, while the faithful ie~ai~ing ia' their places give the responses. Question: Does this de~i~e.~ hold~ .only fgi, th~ ~.bublic~, exercise~ of the Way of the Cross made in a church, o~ does it hold ~hefi this exer-cise is m~de~by religious in their chapels?. - Answer: In the a~rmative to the first part, in the ndgative to the second. II. Questior~: Whether under the circumstances-mentioned in the decrees of Februa~'y 27, 1901, and of May 7, 1902 namely, when 2~49 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE all the religious cannot go in a body from station to station in their chapel without causing a disturbance be~cause of the smallness of the place they can gain the indulgences connected with the i~ious.exer-cise of~the Way Of the Cros~ i'f only one re, ligious (B~roiher or Sister) makes the rounds f~om station to station and reads aloud ~the accus-tomeffprayers, while'rthe rest remaining in their places rise and genu-flect there.for each station? Answer: In the affirmative. " III. Question: Whether in the same circumstances already de-scribed for religious and following the same method, the faithful who live a common life, as mentioned in canon 929 of the Code of Canbn Law, can gain the indulgences attached to the pious exercise of the Way of the Cross if one man or woman, respectively, makes the rounds of the stations of the Wa.y of the Cross and recites the cus-tomary prayers? Answer: In the affirmative. Questions I and II tell us that in a religious community chapel it is not necessary to have the priest recite the prayers for the Way of the Cross; it suffices for one of the religious, Brother or Sister, to make .the rounds from station to station and to recite the customary pray-ers. ~ This has be~n explained before in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (I, 1942, p. 424; IV, 1945, p. 61). Question III extends the same privilege to communities of the faithful living a common lifb, for instance, nurses in/training in a h~pital, old folks living in a home, orphans, studehts at a boarding school, an~ so forth, so that the group may gai.n the indulgence in the chapel if one of their number, man or woman, makes the round of the stations and says the accus-tomed prayers, while the rest remaining in their places answer the prayers and rise and genuflect at each station. OUR~CONTRIBUTORS o ~LAUDE KEAN is on the faculty of Holy. Name College~ the Franciscan house of studies, Washington. D. ~C. He formerly taught at St. Bonaventure College anc~ served as spiritual director of the Franciscan Brothers of Brooklyn. W.H. HING-STON is spiritual director at ~lesuit Seminary, Toronto. CHARLES F. DONOVAN has just completed a year of ascetical study at St. Robert's Hall. Pomfret Center, Connecticut. CLEMENT ~1. MCNASPY is a professor of classical languages at St. Charles College, Grand Coteau. Louisiana. ROBERT B. EITEN, a professor at the University of Detroit, is much interested in ascetical subjects. CYRIL VOLLERT and ADaM C. ELLIS are members of the theological faculty at St. Mary's College, St. Marys, K~nsas. 250 Two I-[eart:s* W. H. Hingston, S.J. IN HIS RADIO address at the close of the Fatima jubilee (October 31, 1942) Pope Pius XII consecrated the wsrld to the Immadulate Heart of Mary. In the same year, on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, he pub- -licly repeated this. consecration and ordered that, as a per-petual memory of this solemn consecration, the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary should be celebrated annually in the universal Church. In obedience to this, order the Sacred Congregation ' of Rites had a new Office and Mass com-pose& and these were presented .to the Holy Father for approval on December 10, 1943. A decree of the Congre-gation of Rites, dated May 4, 1944, which incorporated the text of the new Mass and Office, ordered that the feast 15e celebrated annually on the Octave day of the Assump-tion, August 22. ' Despite the fact that the decree promulgating the feast was issued two years ago, this year may be the first Oppor-tunity for many of us to make,~use of the new Mass and Office~. The occasioh seems an apt one for recalling some of the basic thoughtspertinent to the devotion to the Immacu-late Heart of Mary, and particularly for considering the relation of thii devotion to theworship of the Sac'ted Heart of Jes~us. Obviously there is an intimate link between the devo-tion to Mary's Heart and tha(which we render to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The same saint was employed by Provi-dence to initiate simultan, eously both devotions. No hearts *This article appeared in slightly different form-in The Canadian Messenger of the Sacred Heart, December. 1945, pp. 778-782. It is reprinted here with permission. 251 .W.~ H. HINGSTON Review [or Religious were ever so united by resemblance and by affection as those of .Jesus and~ Mary. The very flesh of Jesus came from Mary alone through the power of the Holy Ghost. Yet under,the outward likeness of the two beautiful devotions there are fundamental differences; and it is the purp.ose of this a~rticleto set forth briefly the resemblances and the dif2 ferences as a help toward an und~rst~indirlg piety. ¯ There is an essential 'difference to b~ observed from~the oai'set between the Form fff devotion paid to the Sac}ed Heart of Jesus and that paid ~o the Heart of HiS Moth'~r, .be.cause of the fact that in one instance veneration is ren- "d~red tO a divine Person and in the other t0a human son. Since all devotioh goes to the person whom we invoke or honor, it is e¢ident that there must be an infinite distance in this regard between the cultus of the Heart of the God- ¯ man and the cultus of the Heart of .Mary; between honor shown to God_and that shown to a creature no matter how highly favored. ~ To mark t~is essential distinction it seems pre, ferab, le, when speaking of the~ heart ofMary alone and'apart from the heart of Jesus, to use .the words H61y Heart. 0f.Mary, or Immaculate Heart, or Most"Pure Heart of Mary: rati~r than '"Sacred'" Heart ofeM~ry. That i~s whhtthe~Church d6es. Sh~ employa the.title Sacred Heaitof M~ry onl~ in the combified "title of ihe Sacred "Hearts of 5es~s and Mary. Apart°from t'h!s~ preliminary consideration, which.is of a general nature and recalls that first and most essential dis~ tinction which is never lost sight ofo by Catholics but is s~mply taken for granted, there ale other .important dis-tinctions to be made. They relate to the-three chief way~ in which we can co sider a~ay°devo~iofi, or:t0 tde t fire leading aspects under which a dev6t~on may be stud~ed. These are: i'ts ma.,terial object, its f6~mal obje~ct, it.s sp~dia.l 252 appeal~:-i'Th,ough these.wolds ~ay~ ~ound a bit 'technica),~: ~:.-x.~_~;tlSey-~ire very Useful :and '~ccurate;~ and we have all ::.(~li~rized ~ith them thrs~gh~the explanatiSns ~whidh-~e ~a~e Often~h~eafdof the de~otion to the.S'acred Hea;t Jesus. Now on each of these three fundamental ~eadings, ~;~Which together sum up a devotion, the differences between_ "~he~cultus of the Heart of Jesus and that of the H~art Mary are mgmficant and p~ofound. ¯ ~ -~irst~ then, as to the material object. In both devotigns .~a humafi heard.of flesh is presented forour veneration. Yet " ~t Once,we note a profound difference. ~The hea?t of Jesu.s :~" isin ~tself an object of ~doration. It is adorable because ~ is g~a~t.Bf that ihdividual human gature which the Divine :~ ",W0rd" mbec~0 m"m g " ~ncarnate took to H"~ m s~elf and" made Hi_s .Very own.~ It' is part of Him. Though a created object, ~-t~gfigh-a mgtenal thing, ~hough Buman flesh, .~t ~s ~he.heart ~f the Son of God madeMan. The honor, we kh~w /'~ m~s~inciude ad;ratiom "In contrast to this; iff the --,:~ 2~i~n ~to .the heart of Mary such ~eneration i~ refid~fed as~" ~ay~ be paid to a 5feature, b~t nothing o~ the adoration. ~ t~at belongs to God Mone. - N~vertheless, adoration is not the .principal act in th~ ~Tdevotion ~,t~ .the Sacred Heart. The human h~art.of the ;~Sa~ior is:~resented to us nbt primarily.that, we may r~nder ~-~,adoration~ bui because of what it stands for, the hu~" -heart:being the natural symbol of human love.~ T. he_~ight 6f the heart of Jesus spontaneously calls to mind His human -i~ l~ve,for His Father and for us. Uoiversally the he~r(is ~.,. looked upon .as the organ, or at least the symbol-of,ldve. ~So fiatural_a symbol of love is it, that in every lan~uhge the h~art.of a ~an is taken for his inward dispositions.--Aman" ~:. <" .- who - is generous, kind, sympathetic is spoken o~" as big--. ~,'hearted, ~tender-hearted, and so f~rth; or else; if he m~ni- 253 ,W H HINGSTON , ~ ,7~ * ~ ~Reoteto for Reltgtous ,, fegt no such pleasant~characterlstlcs,~ he is spoken of as hard-., h_eart~d, cold-hearted, heartless.~ - --~ N~w that thes~e preliminary observations .have beeri ~ade, we daft completeour statement regarding the materml - j,obj~ct i~ the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus~an'd,say' F_hat it-is His heart of flesh taken as the natural symbol Of " His hhman lo;¢e. The natural sy.mbolism of the heart p.la~cs a large pii,~t in the devotion, which would not be underitandablewith-.-. out'~t. In the devdtion to Maryls Heart on the contrary, the symbolism of the heart is faint and not at all empha-. sized, ,th~ reason being that it i~ not.so much her~love as her pUrit~y and her fidelity that we consider. Our attentibr; ~alled far more to the purity, htimility: and. Other vir~ue~ of ithat most faithful heart than to the~ qualities of its love., It ts~ riot hard to discover the reason why in the,devotion to t~he Heart of Jesus such emphasis is placed on the natural sym-b01ism of the heart, and why such emphasis, is lacking, from, "the'~correspbn.ding devotion to the Heart of His Mother. This will become still more apparent when we consider the_ ,f, ormal object of each devotion. A first difference between. "the t~vo devotions is thus found evenin the matefial object; which in both devotions is the heart of flesh, but in ~ach t~e~ ~ l~eartfis viewed under a somewhat different asp, ect. ~A setond and more pronounced diffe~rence lies ifi tl'ie~ - .formal object of. each,, d~voti6n. - The formal object of the devotion to Jesus' Heart is His human love for m~n. ,-,, Note in'the first place t.hat it is His human love which is stressed: -~a'ther 'than His divine love. Coeterrial with the FatheY~' '/he Wor& the~Second Person of the m6st adorable,_Trini_ty~, ,has known from ~everlasting and has loved witff an eteriaal love,each one of us. Yet it is not this eternal lovebelonging -to His divine n~ature that we c~nsider in His Sacred Heart:,,~ ~, ' dul~l, 19~ 6 "~ ~ ' ' TWO HEART~. . .~ We~ read-therein His huma~-10k~e. The symbolism of the heartdna.kes this perfectly clear, for tl~ heart i~ the symbol ~ of h~uman love, no~of divine love._ Besides, the love'of ['Jesus is presented to us as a suffering love, andonly the" .human in Him can suffer. " We venerate the human love b_y .which a divine Person loves us. Yet Christ's eternal love 5, belonging to His divine nature, though it is not and cannot properly be symbolized by any .natural symbol," is by no, ,means excluded from this°devotion. -After all, we love that ,Person Himself who loves us and suffers for u , and Him as He is, whole and entire Hisvery self, .the~ one living principle of a lov~ that is both human'and divine. The.Woid having been made flesh, having becorhe P0S- - sessed of a human °nature like ours, now loves-with a love that began only at His Incarnation, that is truly .human,- -xhat is ~harged with all the emotions of man's spiritual will -*and is colored with all those feelings that have their roots -., in- the sensitive part "of man's bodily make-up. Christ, though~a divine Person and not a human person, loves even ¯ in the, manner that human p~rsons love. He experiences, 'tOo, the consequences of human love, even to the suffering ~ Which unrequited love entails. The greater the capacity_ ~-~ .for loving, the greater the capacity for. suffering. The more -. rintense and unselfish theaffection, the ,greater the anguish-when such affection, goes unrecognized .and is not returned: Note in th~ sed6nd place' that it is Jesus" human love ° ~or. men that. is .the formal object, rather than His htiman 10re for His Father. Undoubtedly Christ, in the-human" nature that He had made His own, loved FIis Father with a,_ll the strength Of His human will; yet it is not this lmre -for His.Father that is dwelt upon, but His love for mdn_. '-"Behold the Heart which has so,'loved men," were His words to St. Margaret Mary. In contrast to this we find that in the devotion to the" Most Pure Heart.of Mary the formal object,, insofar ~is it ¯ is love and not fideli.ty, is love for her 3esus and for her _G~d, not her love for ma'nkind, at least not primarily her 10re for.mankind. We do not positively exclude from our-~ thoughts in this devotion the motherly ,love that she bears to all mankind; but our attentiofi is focused on something ¯ ~lse, rlamely, on the complete and unique absence of all self-love, on the absolute fidelity to grace, on the devotedness of-- M~ry's heart to God. . " Thirdly, there is the special appeal to be considered in each of .these two devotions, outwardly so alike. ,Here the contrast is most marked. In the devotion to_ His Sacred Heart, 3esus makes an appeal to us by His very love for to love Him i[~ return. He opens His breast, bares-His'heart - to us, reveals it afire with love for. us, bleeding for us, ~giving itself to uS without holding back anything, even t~o the Cross, even to the Eucharist; He even humbles Himself before us and shows us the wounds thiit our indifference and -. coldness have inflicted upon Him, piercing His v.ery heart. His fs a suffering love, arld.there is an awful pathos in'His hOpeal, t-he appeal of the~ Son of God begging of His crea~ tures the favor of being loved in return. Our Savior appea~l~. ~strongly to our feelings; but it would be a grave mistake 6n_ our.part and a complete misunderstanding of His plea were we to content ourselve~ with~ giving Him in answ~er mere;. ~ pious sentiments. He ga~e us deeds! He pleads for real reparation, exercised not so much in the way that at6nemen~ ~ is usually exercised, ~amely, by works of pe~nance, bfit° rather by works~ of love, especially through the ever more ,perf~ect doing of His Father's will and the perform~ance of acts ofde~votion towards Himself in the Eucharist. In "the devotion to the Most Pure Heart of Mary~ there" duly, 1946 " Two HEART~ -is also an appeal, of course, but it is not an impassioned appeal, nor are we besought to love her. She does not show us the love of her heart for us, as 2esus does, and beg us to love her in return. Unquestionably Mary has loved and actually does love us much, incomparably more than any one, save only her Son, has loved us; but there is nd allusion ~o this in her appeal. Mary's love is also like her Son's, a suffering love; and it is significant that those sufferings by which she shared in the Passion to such an extent that she is deservedly styled Queen of Martyrs were all endured in her sinless heart; for of bodily sufferings we bare no record. It is furthermore a historical fact that c6mpassion for the broken-hearted Mother--so bravely standing beside the.Cross, as St. 2ohn presents her, or with the torn and lifeless-form across he/ lap, as Christian piety has long depicted her first led the faithful into the sanctuary of Mary's suffering, heart. Nevertheless the sorrows 0f Mary form the object of a distinct.and much more ancient devo-tion in the Church; and in the devotion to the Most Pure Heart the thought of compassion is not prominent. The heart of Mary° is usually depicted encircled with fragrant roses to denote the flowers of many virtues, with~ which it is adolried, not with,thorns. The specia! appeal in this devo-tion is reilly a .very ge.ntle and very sweet and persuasiv.e invit~ition to highdr ~hings. ~ It is a call to .lead an interior life and to imitate the Blessed Virgin by purity of,life, ,by perfect.chastity~ of;th~ affectigns .which are to be. dlrect~ed ~ avcay"~ro, m°creatures,wl~oliy tO G~d, by the practice' of all those wrtues that are particularly dear to her Son. 2esus, because He is God, draws us by the cords of Adam to himself, to the Divinity. Mary because she is a creature draws us, not to herself but directly to her Son, to .her God, to Him who is in truth her child, born of her, yet 25.7 W. H. HINGSTON Review for Religious who can say of Himself: "I and the Father are one'.' (John 10:30). "Amen I say'to you, before Abraham was made, I am" (John 8:58). "Philip, he that seeth Me, seeth the Father also" (John 14:9) " The two.devotions closelycorrespondwith'one another, yet each in its own sphere. They are not on the same footing. Devotion to the Heart of Mary is really a beau-tiful pendant to the devotion to the Heart of Jesus. Her heart is, after His, the most beautiful thing in all creation, because in every way the most perfect copy of His. Upon such beauty the angels gaze in rapture. To portray it is beyond the reach of words. Yet in contemplating Mary's loveliness let us guard against the mistake of far~cying that her very greatness keeps her aloof, a sublime but ethereal beauty far removed from us, dwelling above all angels and saints in the court of the Most High. The symbolism of ~tie heart ought to save us frdm. this baneful illusior~ and should impress' upon us that Mary's is a warm and comfbrting loveliness, tender ~and sweet, and constant and motherly. The tho~ught of this should .fill us~ With confidence rather than with awe. Shh can be approached in all our needs and in our every mood. She can comfort as.none other can, for the heart of the Virgin Mother has experienced sorrow of e;cery kind and has ,known such depths of human v~oe tha~ all other anguish compared to hers must seem bearable and light. But, far and above all, tile heart of Mary overflows with joy; and no one can approach her in thought and no( feel happier for it. She takes her children by the hand and leads them straight to the Sacred Heart of Jesus along the way of encduragement, and hopefulness, and holy joy. The resemblanees between the two devotions are man, r and obvious. Reflection and meditation bring out the differences, and with clearer knowledge comes a deeper 258 July, 194i5 TWo HEARTS understanding of both these lovely devotions centered upon two human hearts that beat in unison. What does the devotion to the Most Pure Heart of Mary add to our devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus? It supplies an additional motive for trust in Him. Mary is so approachable, so understanding, so near to us! She is just one of ourselves. 'And withal how close she is to Christ! How dear to His Heart! How worthy by her stainless purity to plead the cause of us poor sinners with Him, who is the fruit of her womb, and to lead us to Him. Besides, a'better realization of the fundamental differ-ences thatexist between the two devotions brings out cer-tain aspects of the devotion to the Sacred Heart of desus which otherwise might never have been so clearly under-stood. In'this sense devotion toMary's Heart is seen to be a complement to the devotion to the Sacred Heart, which ii itself rooted in the mystery of the Incarnation, with which Mary was so intimately associated in the divine plan. But, best of all, there is the encouragement given us by Mary's life to lead an inner life. The attractiveness of . Mary's example is .best studied in its source, her heart. There we can appreciate the exquisiteness of her every action, feel the warmth of her tender affection, and breathe in the entrancing fragrance of her purity, which rises like incense in a pure white cloud from the selfless sanctuary of her immaculate heart. ANNOUNCEMENT It is even more ditScult to get pap~,r now than it was during the war. For this reason we are reducing the size of the REVIEW from seventy-two pages to sixty-four pages. The amount of matter in each number ~ri!l be about the same as we are using more small type than usual. .We shall return to the 72-page issue just as soon as we can get some guarantee of a regular supply of paper. 259 Recept:ion of Seminarians int:o Religious.lnst:it:ut:es Adam C. Ellis, S.3. ON JULY 25:194 l,.the Sacred Congregations of Religious and of Seminaries issued a joint decree regarding the reception of ex-seminarians into a religious institute and the admission of ex-religious into a seminary. This decision was duly" publi.shed in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (1, 1942, p. 71), as was also a private an-swe~ regarding the same given on May 11, 1942 (III, 1944, p: 67). A number of problems have arisen regarding this decree. Recently we received copies of Commehtarium pro Retigiosis which had been delayed by the war. One of these (XXIII, 1942, pp. 226-237) contains an interesting commentary on this decree written by His Eminence, Cardinal La Puma, then Prefect of the S. Congregation of Religious, who died in 1943. Although the Cardinal did not intend to give.an authentic interpretation of the decree but me.rely a pr!vate or doctrinal interpretation, as he himself tells i~s, yet since he was co:author of the decree there is no other person better qualified.to explain it to us; and we are happy to give our readers the substance of his commentary. We shall omit those parts which pertain to the reception of an ex-religious into a seminary, and confine ourselves to the parts which are of interest to-religious the reception of an ex-seminarian into a religious institute. For a better understhnding of the matter, we repeat here that part of the decree which pertains to our special subject: ~ "Likewise, before those who for ahy reason whatever have left a,semlna[y are a'd-miffed fo a religious family, the religious superiors shall have recourse to the S. Con-gregation of Religious, which will inform them of their opinion (;ud;clum) after having cons;dared all the circumstances of the case." The fact that the document issued by both Congregations jointl~r is called a decree should not be_overstressed, since-it provides little more than.a caution and a necessary re~medy to secure the faithful observancd of certain important prescriptions of t_he Codewhich have been treated too lightly. Much less is this document to b'e considered as a general decree, or new law, since it was not prepared in a plenary session, and it was not approved in focma speci~ica by the Holy Father. 260 SEMINARIANS RECEIVED INTO RELIGION The decree does not establish a new impediment to entrance-lnto' religion or into a seminary; nor is previous permission, properly so-called, to be asked from the SS. Congregations to admit a person into a seminary or into a religious institute since this is left to the proper superiors. The SS. Congregations are to be consulted; and after con-sider~ ng tl~e case,, they will give their opinion (iudicium) ; but thereby they'will neither admit nor impede admission, nor defer it, nor render it more difficult. The SS. Congregations had no thought or intention of. granting to Ordinaries, even indirectly, the faculty to oppose the flee entrance of' seminarians into religion except in the cases explicitly mentioned in the Code--that is, in the case of seminarians and other clerics in sa~red orders and even for these only within the strict and well considered circumstances mentioned in canon 542, 2°, first case: Let us now explain the terms of the instruction quoted above. By seminarg is meant an ecclesiastical.college in which those who aspire to the clerical state are,prepared according to the prescriptions of the law, even though a few lay students are admitted. ;A college to which both clerical and lay students are admitted almost indis-criminately chnnot be called a.seminary. To admit to a seminary means to receive a person as a seminarian; to be dismissed from or to leave a seminary supposes that one who has been a seminarian ceases to be an aspirant to the clerical state by reason of dismissal or voluntary withdrawal. To adn~it to a religious f~mitg means to admit one as a true member, that is "to the novitiate, of a religious institute in which pub-lic vows. are taken, but not to a society of men living in common without public vowS. The words "those who for any reason whatever have left ~a seminary" apply to those who are dismissed from a seminary by superiors as well as to those who leave voluntarily, thereby bidding farewell to their vocation to the clerical state, even though they do so unwillingly because of pressure brought to bear upon them from without. The phrase in question does n_ot apply to those who have completed their studies in a seminary and await ordination outside; "nor does it apply to those who have left a seminary in order to fulfill their, military service but intend to return afterwards, and thus do not renounce their vocation. What about those who Ieave a seminary because theg wish to enter religion? An authentic reply of the S. Congrega6on of Religious given to the question on June-25, 1942 says that "the decree does not 261 ADAM (2, ELLIS affect those who leave a seminary or college in order to embrace the life of religious perfection in some religious institute since these are provided for in'canon 544, § 3." Another class of seminarians who are not subject to the decre'e are those who~though they have truly left a seminary, either by reason of dismissal on account of a lack of talent required, for st6dies, or because they thought they were not called to the clerical state now ask to be admitted to the class of lay brothers in a clerical institute or as lag religious in a non-clerical institute. This means that an ex-seminarian in the strict sense of the term may not be admitted to a religious institute as an aspirant to the priesthood. He may, however, be received as a candidate for the lay brotherhood in a clerical insti-tute, or as a Brother in any non-clerical institute. There are some non-clerical institutes in which a few members are promoted to the priesthood while the majority are Brothers. In this case the ex-seminarian could be received as a Brother, but not as a candidate for the priesthood. If a religious superior wishes to receive an ex-seminarian in the strict sense, that is ohe who has been dismissed from a seminary or who has given up his vocation to the priesthood of his own accord, he must have recourse to the S. Congregation of Religious for its opinion on the case before he can admit him to the novitiate as a can-didate ~:or the priesthood. Meanwhile, however, provfded the superior has re~ceived ttie necessary testimonial letters and is morally certain that no impediments exist, he may admit the ex-seminarian in ques-tion to the postulancy or first probation preceding the novitiate while he awaits the opinion of the S. Congregation regarding his admission to the novitiate. In order to avoid useless delay, which may be harmful to voca-tions, the S. Congregation requires the following documents and tes-timonial letters, written or at least signed by the rector of the semi-nary: (1) testimony regarding the moral and intellectual.qualities of the ex-seminarian; (2) testimonials regarding studies made, as well as progress i~i them, and grades obtained in examinations; (3) tes-timony or opinion about the inclination or propensity of the aspirant towards the religious state; (4) finally, testimony regarding the reasons why the candidate left the seminary and the manner of his doing so, namely, whether he was dismissed or left of his own accord, and whether he left after finishing his studies at the end of the scho-lastic year. These dbcuments should accompany the petition of the 262 duly, 1946 '- BOOKS RECEIVED candidate and should be sent to the S. Congregation of Religious by the religious superior together with any other information which may be judged opportune, either in confirmation, or by way of example, or; finally, as a possible refutation of the statements of the rector of the seminary. Books Received (ApriL20 .to June 20) THE NEWMAN BOOK SHOP, Westminster, Ma~iyland. The Sacred Ceremonies of I2ow Mass. 'By Rev: Felix Zualdi. C.M. $2.00, More About' Fatima and the Immacidate Heart of Mary. By Rev. V. Montes de Oca, C.S.Sp. (No price given.) Life of St~ Stephen Harding. By J. B. Dalgairns: $2.50. A Mystic Under Arms. By' Ft. M:-Eugene Boylan, O.Cist.R. (No price given.) The Spirit of Christ. By Father James, O.F.M.Cap. $2.50. Counsels to Confessors. By St. Leonard of Port Maurice. $1.50. FREDERICK PUSTET COMPANY, New York and Cincinnati. Spirit in Darkness. By Rev. Fr. Brice, C.P. $3.50. H. DESSAIN, Malines, Belgium. Caeremoniale: Pars Altera: De Celebrante. Auctc;r~ J. F. Van Der Stappen. (No price given.) THE BRUCE PUBLISHING COMPANY, Milwaukee. Wisdom /or Welfare. By Sister M. Dolorita, S.S.N.D. mentls in Genere. By Emmanuel Doronzo, O;M.I. $3.75. Shoulder.- By Rev. Thomas J. Hosty. $1.50. $2.00. De Sacra- Straight from the THE MARIAN FOUNDATION, San Antonio. The Golden Thread of Netoman. By ReV. William R. Lamm, S.M. (Paper). $.50 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, New York. St. Paul: Apostle and Martyr. By' Iglno Giordani. $2.50. B. HERDER BOOK ~OMPANY, 'St. Louis. The Mysteries of Christianity. By M. J. Scheeben. $7.50. Christianity: An Outline of Dogmatic Theology for Laymen. By Joseph H. Fichter, S.J. $2.50, JOSEPH F. "WAGNER, INC., New York, Scriptural References for the Baltimore Catechism. By G. H. Guyot, C.M. (No price given.) (No price given.) THE DECLAN X. MCMULLEN COMPANY, New York. Most Worthy of All Praise. By Vincent P. McCorry, S.J. ST. ANTHONY GUILD PRESS, Paterson, New Jersey. Frances Schervier: Mother of.the 'Poor. By Sister Pauline. 263 May a superior grant a Sister with simple vows permls~ion~ fO use a gold watch? A moderate use of an article made of gold is not. in itself, con-trary to the vow of poverty. This is evident from the fact ,that some constitutions approved by" the~HolY See prescribe the wearing of a gold ring. Frequently the constitutions or legitimate custom forbid the use of articles m_ade of gold. In such cases the superior dould not grant permission for the use of a gold watch. But if there is no such prohibition, the, superior may grant the permission, provided that the watch is not so expensive as to cause surprise to the faithful who see th~ religious wearing_it. This element depends upon. local circum. stances and customs. A possible solution for the 'problem involved might be'to have the watch removed from its gold case and put into one of less precious material. ~ 23 Accordln9 to canon law how many delegates are necessary to make up a general chapter representing a community of one thousand Sisters? May delecjafes of the general chapter of a religious communlfy induce other members o{ the chapter, before the election of the mo÷her general has taken place, to vote for a certain group of Sisters whom they wish have fpr council members? Canon 507, § to tells us that "in elections which are made by chapters, the universal.law as set forth in canons 160-182 shall be obsdrved, as well as the constitutions of the institute which are not contrary to this universal lawJ' The Code leaves th.e organization of general chapters of religious institutes entirely to the constitutions. Constitutions approved by the Holy See. usually provide that every house of twelve or more members is represented in the general chapter by the local superior and by at least one delegat~ elected by the mem-bers of the local community. Smaller houses are grouped together to form a unit of from twelve to eighteen members. This group then elects one delegate from among the local superiors and one from amdng the subjects. If the institute requests it, the S. ~ongregation of Religious will allow large communities one delegate for every twelve Sisters. Thus a community of fifty Sisters would be entitled 264 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS to elect four delegates from that community. Paragraph two of canon 507 states explicitly: "All must abstain from seeking votes either directly or indirectly for themselves or for others." This law is dear and needs no explanation. Howe:oct, the constitutions frequently allow the members of the chapter to seek information from other chapter members regarding the qualifications of certain individuals well-known to them. Insuch a case the mem-bers bf the chapter ~hould give the information required, but should abstain from positively urging any member to vote for another mem-ber. Their ~duty should be confined to giving the information requested~ according to the best of their knowledge, in all charity and sincerity. It may be well to note i~ere that 'the delegates elected by the indi-vidual communities sh0uld not be instructed regarding persons to be voted for. This would clearly be contrary to the canon quoted above: The community must have confidence in the good judgment of the delegates ,whom they elect. --24--- A college has regular tuition and board and room charges. Over and above these charges_there are fees in various departments for certain courses, for instance in home economics for food, interior decoration, and s6 forth; in the music department, for the use of musical instruments. In a~ word, these fees are for things used, for materials, instruments, and the llke. Tl~e sum total of fees charged in any department make up the budget of that department. Must such fees be used only as described or may they also be used for the general cjood of the department, for instance to buy supplies, such as records, in the music department; to give the students of that particular department an. outing; to finance a student's trip to-a con-ventlon as a representative of that department? As long as the fees charged to make up the budget of any si'ngle department are used in that dep~rtment~ both justice and Canon Law ate satisfied. ~:~he purchasing Of instruments and stipplies needed for -the laboratory experiments of the department are certainly for the benefit :of the students, and the same inay be said regarding the travel-ing expensesof a representative of the department who is sent to a .convention. And it is perfectly in keeping with the law of,'the Church to use any balance left over at the end of the year to give the students of that department an outing or some other entertainment " to which, payment of the fee for board and tuition gives them no right or cl:aim. 265 QUESTIONS AND ~NSWERS Review for.Religious ' m2Sm, Our constitutions havi~ the following provision regarding candidates for admission: "Their parents must have borne a good reputation; and should these have been under repute of any enormous crime, or have been condemned in any criminal court, the aspirants cannot be received." Does this artlcle of our constitutions oblige us 1o reject an aspirant whose par-enfs are divorced and remarried? Since the constitutions seem to have in mind a crime against the civil law and a condemnation in a civil criminal court, divorce and "remarriage would not come under the prohibition of the constitu-tions. The requirem'ent of a good reputation on the part of the par-ents looks to the edification of th.e faithful. One may say that the parents have lost their good reput~ition if the faithful would be scan-dalized by the admission of their daughter into a religious commun-ity. Hence in our practical case, if the divorce and remarriage are things "of the past, forgotten by most people, there would be no diffi-culty in receiving the aspirant. If they are recent events,, p~udence must dictate whether the reception of the candidate into religion would cause disedification or not. It may be well to note that the constitutions do not positively forbid the reception of the daughter of parents who have a bad reputation, as is the case in the second part of the article quoted. Hence it seems that such a candidate could be admitted even though her parents are divorced and remarried provided her reception would not cause scandal to the faithful. In some instances at least, it might be a cause of great edification: for instance, if it became known that the daughter was entering religion to aton~ for the sins of her parents. --26-- I heard recently of a community of Sisters in ~vhlch custom demands that they go to confession in seniority. Do you know if such a cu'sfom really exists? Would it not be against canon law? It seems to me that confes-sors' might easily recognize their penitents in such circumstances. It is not clear just what is meant here by going to confession "in seniority." If it means "according to seniority groups"---e.g. senior professed, then junior professed, then novices there seems to be nothing particularly harmful about the custom. This arrangement according to groups would simply facilitate good order and could hardl~r be a source of embarrassment to individuals. Very likely our correspondent refers to a case in which indi- 266 Julg, 1946 QUES'~IONS AND ANSWERS Oiduals go according to sepiority. 'We t6o have heard of such a custom, although we do not know of any definite pl_ace where it exists. Strictly speaking, this custom is not against the l'etter of canon law; at, least, we are not aware of any provision of law which forbids it." It'seems to us, however, that such a custom is not in accord with the spirit of canon law. For one thing--as our corre-spondent points Out" it makes it very easy for confes'sors to recog: nize ~oenitents, for if the confessor knows the community at all he will. very likely know something of the order of seniority. This is often embarrassing t6 a confessor and it.is also an obstacle to the perfect liberty of spirit enjoyed by a penitent. At least, many penitents can confess more freely when they are not recognized as individuals. An added inconvenience for the penitent, if individual seniority is insisted on, is the fact. that those who immediately follow her will always know ju,st howlong her confession takes. Also, if she does wish to take a long time, she may be embarrassed at the thought of delaying the others. m27-- What is the mind of the Church on such matters as havln9 contests between 9fades to have the most Communions in a week, and on havln9 compulsory Communion Sundays under those circumstances where the-external pressure on an individual to receive Communion is very 9rear2 The principle for solving questions like this was clearly formu-lated in a reserved instruction issued by. the Congregation of the Sacraments on December 8. 1938. The text of this instruction may be found in The Canon Law Dfgest, II, p. 208. A synopsis of the instruction was printed in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, III, p. 268. The same number of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (III, p. 252) contained the translation of a very thor6ugh commentary on this instruction by Father Emile Bergh, S.3. For an adequate discussion of this impor-tant matter we refer our c~)rrespondent to the text of the instruction and to Father Bergh's article. Answering the question very briefly, we should say: Any prac-tice which induces pressure to receive Holy Communion is wrong and should be changed without delay. If '!spiritual treasuries," contests between classes, Communion Sundays, and so forth, are had at all, they should be conducted in such a way that all indi;ciduals will feel perfect freedom to abstain from Communion if they wish. 267 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Revleto ~or Religious According to our constitutions, .the order of precedenc6 among .the Sisters is as follows: The .superior general always and everywhere precedes all the Sisters including local superiors. Then come: the general council- Ior~ accorcfing to the order of'thelr election; .the secretary general; ~the treasurer general: former superiors general in the mother house (in other houses they follow the local superior); the mistress of novices'. Is this order of precedence to be interpreted as ¯follows? (I) All general officers taEe -precedence over the local superior in pres;ding over the assemblies of~ the mother house community. In other words, in the event .that the superior cjeneral is not i~resent, who presides over the assemblies and exercises of the mother house community? (2) Just what rank and authority, does the Io~al s~perlor of the mother house hold in the mother house? (3) If the mistress of novices is a councillor and the local superior is not, does that fact dispense the mistress of novices from being subject ~o the local supe-rior and excuse her from a chapter presided over by the local superior? (4) Does a councillor stationed in any house other than the m~)ther house take precedence over the local superior? Before answering the specific questions asked above, it may be helpfial to analyze the concept of precedence. Precedence is a sign of g~e~ater honor because of greater e~cellence. It consists in the right to occupy a more honorable place i~a church, in processions, or in assemblies; or in the right to act before others. for instance, to cast a vote ahead of others. This right of precedence supposes-in the person who enjoys it a certain excellence or dignity which places on others the obligation of reverence or obedience to them. Among religious the right of precedence is conferred upon an indi-vidual religious because of th~ office which he holds. Such.an office may or may not have authority over others attached to it. Thus superiors in a religious institute (whether they be general, provincial; or local superiors) have precedence over their subjects by reason of their authority to govern them (canon° 106, 2°). Other officials such as councillors, secretaries, bursars, mistresses of novices, enjoy the right of precedence because of the dignity of their office .even though it does not carry with it any authority over other professed r.eligious. .From the foregoing' it is evident that in assemblies in which no authority is exercised, such as the presence Of a religious community in chapel for the recitation of the office or of othe~ prayers in com-mon, or attendance at meals in the common refectory, it is quite 268 1946 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS r~asonable that-some officials enjoy" pre.cedence over the local superior', even though they-be subject to her in the external discipline of ._the house. They would rank higher in the order of preced.ence~ and would take.a higher.placein the chapel or in the dining room: but .they would not exercise" any, act of authoritg in either place: Such acts "of authority in general:assemMie's belong to superiors only, not to officials who do not enjoy authority over others by reason of their- - office. . The order of precedence in any particular institute is determined by t'he constitutions and by the customs of that institut~e (canon 105, 5°). The common law contains no provisions governing precedence of officials within a .particular institute. According to the present practice Of the S. Congregation,of.Reli-gious, precedence in religious congregations ,is as follows: (1) The superior general precedes all superiors, provincial as well as local, always anti everywhere. (2) The general councillors come next, in the. order, of their election, then the secretary .general and the treasurer general, but only in .the general mother house' in other houses they take their places after the local superior. (3) Former supe~riors gen- ¯ eral come after the treasurer_general, but only in the mother house. Some constitutions give precedence over local s.uperiors to the ~general councillors and to the secretary and treasurer general. Such provisions~ of older con'stitutions would prevail over the piesent practice of the S. Congregation. Any doubts, especially with regard to recently approved constitutions, should be solved according to the pr.esent practice of the S. Congregation. (4) The provincial superior has precedence in all the houses of his province; i~rovincial councillors, provincial secretary and treasurer take precedence but in the provinr cial house only: in other, houses they come after the local sup~erior. Regarding the local superior of the mother house: (1) She gov-erns the community of the mother house just as a local superior ggv-erns a local~ house, that is, in all things pertaining to the community as such,'but subject to (he limitation put upon local superiors by the law of the Church'and by the constitutions. (2) Evidently the superior general takes precedence over the local superior everywhere and at all times; she is not subject to the local S.uperior of the mother house. (3). Unless the constitutions or legitimate "custom~ have exempted higher officers and have made them-directly depend.ent on the superior general, the general councillors, secretary and treasurer ¯ general, exTsuperiors and so forth, are all subject'to the local, s.uperior 269 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS even thotfgh in public assemblies they take a higher place. (4) So,me constitutions provide that the first councillor or any one of the coun-cillors appointed by the superiqb general~ shall be local superior of the mother house. ' The mistress ot: novices and the novices are subject to the local Superior in all matters pertaining to the general discipline of the house (canon 561, § I). The fact that the mistress of novices is also a general couricillor would not change her relations to the local supe-rior of the mother house unless the constitutions or legitimate custom place her direct.ly and immediately under the superior general. In this latter case ~i distinction would have' to be made. In her official capacity as mistress of novices, she would still be under the general authority of the lo.cal superior together.with her novices by reason of the legisla-tion- of the Code; but in her private capacity ~s a general councillor she'would n6t, but: would be directly finder the authority of the. supe-rior general. We are ready- now to answer the questions asked above:. 1. In the absence of the superior general, the local superior of. the mother house presides over .all assemblies of the mother house com-munity. Officials--such as general councillors, the secretary general, the treasurer general--may precede th~ local superior in such assem-blies, that is they may occupy a higher place of honor; bfit they do not fireside, tl'iat is they do not exercise any authority, ianless legiti-mate custom gives them the right so to do. 2. The local superior~ of "the,mother house exercises the same authority over the community as such as does any other local superior over her community. All Officials, the superior genera.1 alone excepted, are subject to her regarding the general discipline of the house, unless -the constitutions or "legitimate custom have exempted higher officials from her authority and have made them subject to the superior gen-eral alone. If the mistress of novices is a councillor and the local superioress. is not, the former wo~uld still :be subject to the local superior in. the chapter of faults presidedover by the local superior, unless the coun-cillors have be~n~explicitly excused from such s.ubjection either by the constitutions or by legitimate custom. , 4. NormaIly a general councillor stationed in another house wh{ch is not the mother house does not take precedence over the.local superior unless the constitutions or legitimate custom explicitly so declare. 270 THE MYSTICAL'LIFE. By Pascal P. Parente, S.T.D., Ph.D., ~J.C.B,.A, s' s o "c,ate Professor of Ascetical Theology,. Catholic University of America. Pp. x ~- 272. B. Herder Boo~( Company, St. Louis, 1946. $2.50. This is the companion volume to the same author's The ~tscet[cat Life, which appear.ed two years ago and contained an announcement of this work. With it Father Parente completes his systematic sur-vey of the spiritual life, and gives us the first study of the kind to ema'nate from an American theologian. Thus it possesses a certain histo'ric~l distinction. In content it is just about what one would expect in a brief intro-duction to mysticism. The first part of it is entitled "General Aspects and Basic Elements of Mysticism," the. second "Mystical State~ in Particular," and the third "Mystical Phenomena."' The last chapter discusses the practical questions of direction for mystics, the perusal of mystical literature, the vocation to the mystical life, °and desire for it: Without saying much about the controversies which have enlivened mystical theology i~i recent years, Father Parente generally steers a middle course between the doctrines of the" extreme schools. \ He is a strong advocate for the distinction between acquired and infused ~onteinplatlon. Rather singularly and originally he pro-poses that the difference is neither specific nor one of degree,-bu.t one of iaianner, of the way in which contemplation comes to one. It is highly uncertain whether St. Teresa, for instance, and others who ha~e experier~ed the diversity, would agree that there is not a greater distinction. In describing the prayer of quiet, the first of the "infra-ecstatic states~,'' the author writes: "As a matter of fact, God by reason of His omnipresence does not enter but simply makes Himself known to the soul" (page 121). Is there any such perception or . experience in" acquired Eontemplation? The vocation to mystical graces is not universal, but, at least practically, restricted to a limited number ofsouls. 'It is rather characteristic of this ~rork that it opens with an inter[ esting account of the ancient pagan mystery cults. It contains rela-tively much from Scripture and also from the Fathers Of the Chfirch that illustrates or supplies analogues to mystical phenomena. The cases botfi of Teresa Neumann and of Padre Pio of Pietralcina, the 271 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Relioious first stigmatized priest, are .treated professedly. ~-G. AuG. ELL/~RD, 8.2. MEDITATION ON THE PASSION. Compiled from Varlou~ Sources, with an Introduction" by the Reverend Reginald Walsh, O.P: Pp. rift ~ 305. The Newman Bookshop, Westm. lnsfer, Maryland, 3946. $3.'/5. "Reaction to a meditation book, especially t'o a book on the P~is-sion, is aft'extremely personal thing. What strikes a responsive chord in one person may prove dull finduninspiring to another. Yet, in spite of the uncertain personal factor; this book is .likely to please and to be helpful to almost anyone who sincer.ely wishes good meditation matter on the Passion. The various chapters treat of the entire Pas-sion'with thoroughness, yet without that meticulousness that makes one nod drearilywhile preparing his meditation. The. points are well planned and gasiiy fixed in the mind. The reflections are sound and agreeably warm. The colloquies--well, it seems that in affy meditation book colloquies have to be taken as "the bitter with the sweet." At least, this reviewer (behold :the personal element!) would be well pleased: if all meditation books dis.pensed with the Ohs .and Abs that give colloquies the fingernail-on:the-blackboard effect. But it is only fair to say ~hat if you like colloquies, you will likethese; and if you do not like them, you can. easily skip them, for they are clearly labeled. The meditations were composed originally by a ~ister who was mistress of novicek for thirty years. The editor has omittedthe parts that applied to ieligious women as such; hence the present edition is useful (decidedly so) to ~ill.--G. KELLY, S.3. THE CATHOLIC CENTRE. By Edward Ingram_ Watkln.Pp. 261. Sheed' and Ward, New YorE, 1945. $3.00.- The republishing of this book Six years after its first appearance is subely, due as much to the book's intrinsic merits as to the fact that Mr. Watkin's more recent Catholic Art and Culture has made his name and w(~rth known to a greater number of readers. This earlier work takes its name from the fact that "Since Catholic Christianity is the supreme :and most complete revelation of religious truth, and the philosophy which it implies the most.balanced and comprehen-sive i.nt~rpretation of human experience, we shall expect to find Catholicism and the philosophy it demands occupying a central position between all extremes and one,sided excesses, reconciling and 272 dulg, 1946 ~ BOOK, REVIEWS balancing[them,by m~aintfiining the p~ositive truth they'contain'~aiad rejecting their~exce~ses and exclusions." The detailed exposition of the ways in which Catholicism is central,~ complemented realistically by the fa~t, that "As. actually~ practiced and understoo& ho.wever, Catholicism is not the perfect oia media, nor do.es .it occupy the exact centre of. human thought and action" because of~human 1.imi-" tations "gives, the author materi:~l for a skillfully integrated., bogk. He~outli~es the ideal, searches out and b~ings under a very uncom~ .plimentary spotlight remediable defections from the ideal; and pro-poses various readjustments by .way of constructive criticism: The attentive reader will not always agree with Mr. Watkin, but he cad hardly fail. to-be,prodded into serious thinkihg oi~ fundamental .questions.--C. DE MUTH, S.,J. MISSION FOR SAMARIT.AN$. By Anna Dengel, M.D. I~p. x -[- 126. The ~,:~ Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, 1945. $1.75. Medical rriissions is" a,live subject,in the Catholic' mind. Here we hav~.~short .bier-comprehensive treatment from the pen of a pioneer in the movement. The doctor'and the religious in Mother Dengel speak on every page. Not only is she a skilled practitioner,~but she hfis~studied ~he;history °bf:her :field thoroughly. Her statements,~are carefully~ weighed anff sulS~orted; by c0nvincing~evidence. ceeds in stirring the heart to an.appreciation for her ideal,~the win_ning 6fpagan souls for,Christ by~supplyin~ them with.the expert medical ~a~?e of religious .doctor~ and.nurses. Christ is responsible; :for the Catholic attitude~'towards the s!~ck: He first healed men's bodies and.then won their~souls: Mother Dengel has it ~thiit one purpose of His coming was to. renew the weak.ened h~man"body for.the sake of thesoul. She~ puts before us the response ofthe Church tboChrist's~example and precept. ~ Universal care ,of the si~k and°diseased'has flourished wherever~Christ's Church has~ reache& The lat~er half~ of the book is of intriguing'interest. ~ The medi-c~ il situation of mosto of,our mission~fields, includingeven the,,Negroe.s and white vagrants of America, i~ briefly but chpably described. Tbe picture is indeed pathetic, all the more so because ignorance, super-station, and~lack of facilities i~ccount for so much needless suffering. Mother De_ngel shows us ou~ opportunity: if with complete unselfish-ness we devbte ourselve~to the restoration of pain-wracked bodies, we can be sure that the grace of Christ, working through us,¯will take care of their souls. R.D. HUBER. S.J. ,.273 BOOK REVIEWS FORMING A CHRISTIAN MENTALITY. By the Reverend Killan J. HennHch, O.F.M.Cap. Pp. xll -t- 288. Joseph F. Wagner, Inc., New York, 1945. (No price g~ven.) This book, designed as a companion volume to the :author's Youth Guidance, was written to aid priests, teachers, and parents in their direction of'young people. The work is divided into two parts. The aim of the first is to promote the spirttuahzatlon of individuals in their preparation for married life. The second part continues this project with a description of the Christianization of the famil,~ through the liturgy. Father Hennrich's qualifications for this task are attested by his many years of experience in dealing with'adolescents and by th6 dozen or more books he has written in the past several decades-on various phases of Catholic social activities. The exposition is rather abstract and impersonal, almost wholly unrelieved by graces of style, variety, or sprightliness. But preachers and educators who study the book perseveringly will find that it outlines a sound program for the instruction and religious guidance of young men and women. C. VOLLER'I', S.~I. HOW TO MEDITATE.BY Rev. John P. Roothaan, S.J. Translated by Rev. Louis J. Puhl, S.J. Pp. viii + 72. The Newman Bookshop, Westminster, Maryland, 1945. $1.25. First published in 1837, Father Roothaan's little treatise De Ratione Meditandi has become the classic exposition of the so-called "Ignatian Method'" of prayer. Not that St. Ignatius ever intended that religious and other pious persons should confine themselyes to this.rigidly methodical form of prayer for the rest of their lives. He himself "suggests bther forms in his Spiritual Exercises; but he intended it to serve as an introduction to and foundation for a life of prayer. Hence the translator tells us in his introductory note: "It is an undeniable fact that here even the most unlettered beginner will find a clear, easy, fruitful method of meditation that can easily be adapted., to personal needs and dispositions." Normally the religious who has seriously practiced this funda-mental method of prayer, as explained by Father Roothaan, will in due time pass on to the practice of affective prayer: but even he will find it helpful if not necessary to fall back occasionally upon the method d~scribed by the author. It is always a safe refuge in time of spiritual dryness and affliction. ¯ 274 July, 1946 ,~ BOOK REVIEWS Thi~ little book should b~ in the hands of every novice. Older ¯ religious will 6nd it u~eful reading "to spu'r them on to greater dill-gence in practical .and fruitful prayer, and zeal in the pursuit of per-fection." This reviewer .regrets exceedingly that this English version of Father Rootbaan's classic was not publ.ished ~n pamphlet form so as t6 give it a wider distribution.--A.C. ELLIS, S.J. THE MYSTICAL BODY OF, CHRIST. By Frledrlch Ji~rgensmeler, D.D. Transl,,fed by H. Gardner Curtis. Pp. :~09. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, J945. $3,00. The first section of this book discusses the biblical doctrine.and offers an excellent presentation of the importance and place of the Mystical Body in the divine plan of salvation. The second part develops the author's conviction that this ~ys~ery is the fun~amental~ principle of asceticism. /, The translation from ~bicb this photographic reproduction was ma'de is yery disappointing. After comparing several sections of the book, sections of ten to fifteen pages in length, with the original German, this reviewer was astounded at the many inaccuracies found in the translation. Furthermorel ~t times, phrases, clauses (in fact, sometimes' whole sentences) have been~ omitted. For example, we. read (p. 64) : "The Second Person of the. Godhead u, nited mankind to Himself in a hypostatic union." And, again (p. 81) : "Christ is distinguished from the Father and the Holy~ Ghost by the circum-stance .of His human, existence." .Needless to say, the original Ger-man does not have such ambiguous-(to say.the very least)~ doctrine. The last paragraphs of pages 65~.~66, and sections of pages 69 and 70 are very inaccurately translated. In general, religibus who have not studied theol0gy will find this book too ponderous. Sections, especially the treatment of the Mys: .tical. Body in the ascetical life, will be .helpful. But we cannot ,. recommend the English translation.--M. LA PIETE EUCH,~RISTIOUE By J. F.Ber~ube, s.s.s. Pp. 151. La Libr'-'qrle Eucharls÷ique, 514,.avenue Monf-Royal Est, M<;nfreal 34, 1945. (No '" prlce-given,) The source,, the means, ~nd the end of a11 our life of grace is 2esus Christ. The Holy Eticharist, ~because it c6ntains the whole Christ, must therefore be the source, the means, and.the end of .our spiritual 275 BOOK REVIEWS R~oieto [oF Religidus life. How the Eucharistic Christ, in the ~acrifice of the' Mi~ss, in Holy Communion, in the Real Presence, is the all and all of our tioliness, and fl0w we should respond to these profound truths-- .l~his is the book's important message to the faithful. It is followe.d by two eloquent~ inspiring pronoi~ncements of Pius XII

Issue 25.6 of the Review for Religious, 1966. ; Implementation of Vatican II by Paul VI Religious Community and the Primi-tive Church by Thomas Barrosse, A Reflection on Perfectae Caritatis by Gustave.Martelet, S.J. The Family Fallacy by Hilary Smith, O.G.D. Are Teaching Brothers Still Needed? by J. M. R. Tillard, O.P. Devouonal Confession by Dale Olen, O.F.M.Gap. Deepening Vocational Com~nitmen~ by Sister Marian Dolores, S'.:N.J.M. Humility and Pei'~onality by wali' s. S.S. Subli~nation~ by.Sister M. Rosalie, O.P. Religious and Gr~duate!!Studie~ by Michael P. 8heri~n, Blueprint.for Dialogue by Thomas Dubay, S.M. Survey of Roman DoE~uments Views, News, Previews QuesUons and ~nswers Book Reviews Indices for Volume 25, 1966 939' 971 986 1000 1018 1030 1042 1051 1055 1062 1070 1084 1088 ]092 1106 1127 VOLUME 25 N'UM~ER 6 ~Vovember 196~ Notice to Subscribers Because of constantly increasing costs, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS finds it necessary to increase the cost of its individual issues as well as of its sub-scriptions. The new rates, effective in 19(37, will be the following: (1) Individual issues of the REVIEW will cost one dollar; this price will apply not only to all issues beginning with 19(37 but also to all previously published issues. (2) Subscriptions in the United States, Canada, and Mexico will cost $5.00 per year; $9.00 for tw9 years. (~) Subscriptions to other countries will cost $5.50 per year; $10.00 for two years. (4) All the above prices are in terms of U.S.A. dollars; accordingly all payments must be made in U.S.A. funds. These prices wilI affect all individual issues sokl on or after January 1, 1967. The new subscription prices will be applicable to all subscriptions-- new and renewed--beginning with the January, 1967, issue of the REvmw. PAUL VI Implementation of Cer-tain Decrees of Vatican Council II The~ postconciliar administration of the Church clearly requires that there be established for the Church's affairs new norms and dispositions which correspond to the requirements of the Council and which are better adapted to the new goals and areas of the apostolate that the work of the Council has brought to the Church's at-tention as existing in the world of our time--a pro-foundly changed world that needs the full glow of light and longs for the supernatural warmth of charity. Because of these considerations, as soon as the Council was finished, We accordingly established study commis-sions to collect, each in its own area, information and to frame a practical program; the purpose of all this was that definite norms might be set down for the implemen-tation of the conciliar decrees which had already been granted a delay from imm. ediate execution. These com-missions, as We wrote with satisfaction in Our motu pro-prio letter, Munus apostolicum, of June 10, 1966, dili-gently occupied themselves with their assigned task; and at the assigned time they made known their findings to Us. After We had attentively considered their findings, We judged that it was now time for the aforementioned norms to be published. Since, however, the'entire mat-ter is one that pertains to discipline, an area to which ek-perience may be able to contribute further suggestions; and since, moreover, a separate commission is engaged in the revision and emendation of the Code Of Canon Law in which all the laws of the Church will be codified to-gether in a fitting, appropriate, and determined way; We * This is a translation of the motu proprio apostolic letter, Ecclesiae sanctae, issued on August 6, 1966; the translation was made [rom the Latin text as given in Osservatore romano, August 13, 1966, pp. 1-3~ 4. 4. 4, Implementation Vatican I1 VOLUME 25, 1966 have thought that it would be wise and prudent for Us to publish these norms for an experimental period. During this interval of time episcopal conferences may communicate to Us any observations and comments which the execution of these norms may convince them should be made; likewise, they can also propose new ideas to Us. Accordingly, after thinking the matter over carefully, on Our own initiative-and by Our apostolic authority, We decree and promulgate the following norms for the implementation of the decrees of the Council beginning with.the words: Christus Dominus (on the pastoral office of bishops in the Church), Presbyterorum ordinis (on the ministry and life of priests), Per[ectae caritatis (on the adaptation and renewal of religious life), and Ad genres divinitus (on the missionary activity of the Church); and We order them to be observed for an ex-perimental period; that is, until the new Code of Canon Law is promulgated unless in the meantime the Apostolic See should provide otherwise. These norms will begin to be effective on October 11, 1966, the Feast of the Motherhood of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the day on which four years ago the Council was solemnly inaugurated by Our predecessor of venerable memory, John XXIII. All the matters determined by Us in this motu proprio letter We order to be fixed and unalterable, all contrary things, even those worthy of very special mention, not-withstanding. Given at Rome at St. Peter's on August 6, 1966, the Feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the fourth year of Our pontificate. Paul PP. VI ÷ ÷ ÷ Paul REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS NORMS FOR THE DECREES ON BISHOPS AND ON PRIESTS The episcopal office, which the Second Vatican Coun-cil has clarified in the dogmatic constitution, Lumen gen-tium, and in the decree, Christus Dominus, was divinely established for the building up of the Mystical Body of Christ which is the Church. For this reason these holy pastors must show a perse-vering zeal in the fulfillment of their duty of teaching, sanctifying, and shepherding the People of God. In doing this, they should generously share with the roman pon-tiff the solicitude of all the churches, they should ear-nestly provide for the good administration of the dio-ceses entrusted to them, and finally they should work together for the good of their several churches. In the direction of the dioceses e.ntrusted to them the bishops require helpers and counselors, the first of which are the priests; hence bishops should willingly listen to these latter and even be desirous of consulting ~hem, though in all matters there should always be retained as fixed the bishop's power of acting, freely, of setting up directives and norms, and of enacting laws in accord with his own conscientious concept of his office and with the principles of the government of the Church (see the dog-matic constitution, Lumen gentium~, n. 27). In order, therefore, that the bishops may be able to fulfill their pastoral duty more ea,sily and fittingly and in order that they might translate into practice the prin-ciples solemnly approved by the Council in the decrees, Christus Dominus and Presbyterorum ordinis, the fol-lowing norms are established. Distribution of the Clergy and Assistance to Dioceses (N. 6 of the decree, Christus Dominus, and n. 10 of the decree, Presbyterorum ordinis) 1. If it is deemed opportune, there should be set up at the Apostolic See a special committee the purpose of which will be to provide general ~rinciples for a better distribution of the clergy in the light of the needs of the various churches. ,, 2. It will be the duty of patriarchal synods and of epis-copal conferences, the prescriptionls of the Apostolic See being observed, to enact ordinances and to publish norms for the bishops by which there may be secured a fitting distribution of the clergy coming from their own terri-tory as well as of those coming fr6m other regions. Such a distribution should provide [orl the needs of all the dioceses of a given territory; the welfare of the churches in mission lands and in countries~ with a lack of clergy should also be cared for. Therefore, every episcopal con-ference should establish a commission whose work it will be to investigate the needs of the various dioceses of the territory as well as the possibilities of the dioceses for giving from their own clergy to other dioceses, to put into execution the determinations made and approved by the conferences with regard to the distribution of the clergy, and to convey these determinations to the bishops of the territory. ~ 3. In order that the transfer of clerics from one diocese to another be made easier--the p(actice of incardination and excardination being retame~d though ~n a form adapted to new circumstances--the following prescrip-tions are set down. § 1. Clerics in seminaries shoqld be trained so that they are solicitous not only for ithe diocese for whose service they are ordained but also for the entire Church + + + Implementation o~ Vatican Ii VOLUME 25, 1966 941 Paul VI REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS and so that with the permission of their own bishop they are ready to devote themselves to particular churches whose needs are great. § 2. Except in the case of genuine necessity in the home diocese, ordinaries and hierarchs should not refuse permission to go elsewhere to those clerics whom they know are prepared and whom they judge to be suited when such clerics ask to perform their sacred ministry in regions having a serious lack of clergy; however, they should see to it that the rights and duties of these clerics are defined by a written agreement with the lbcal ordi-nary of the region that has been asked for. : § 3. In the case of clerics 'intending to transfer from their own diocese to a diocese of another' country, the same ordinaries should see to it that they are adequately prepared to exercise the sacred ministry in such places; that is, they should see to it that such clerics .acquire a knowledge of th~ language of that region and that they have an understanding of its institutions, of its social conditions, and of its usages and customs. § 4. Ordinaries can grant their clerics permission to transfer to another diocese for a determined time, which caff also be renewed indefinitely; t.his should be done, however, in such a way that such clerics remain incardi-hated in their own diocese and enjoy, when they return to it, all the rights they would have if they had devoted themselves to the sacred ministry in it. § 5. A cleric, however, who has legitimately transferred from his own diocege to another is ipso iure incardinated into the latter diocese after five years if he has manifested in writing such an intention both to the ordinary of the diocese he is in and to his own ordinary provided that within four months neither of these has expressed in. writing a contrary opinion. 4. Moreover, for the accomplishment of special pas-toral or missionary activities for various regions or social groups which need special help, there can be usefully established by the Apostolic See prelatures which consist of specially trained priests of the secular clergy and which are under the direction of their own prelate and possess their own statutes. It will be the duty of this prelate to: establish, and di-rect a national or international seminary in which stu-dents are appropriately trained. This prelate also has the right of incardinating such students and of promot-ing them to orders under the title of service to the prel-ature. The prelate should provide for the spiritual life of those promoted under the aforementioned title, for their special training which should be completed without de-lay, and for their special ministry in the light of agree- ments made with the local ordinai'ies to whom the priests are sent. Likewise, he should pro~,ide for their decent sus-tenance which should be met by the agreements that have been made or by the goods 0[ the prelature itself or by other suitable means. Similarly, he should provide for those who because of poor health or for other reasons must give up the work entrusted to them. Provided agreements have been made with the prel-ature, nothing prevents laymen, whether unmarried or married, from dedicating themselves and their profes-sional experience to the service of the prelature's works and undertakings. Such prelatures are not to be established except after consultation with the episcopal conferences of the terri-tory in which the prelature will carry out its work. In doing its work, the prelature should take every care to observe the rights of the local ordinaries and to have close and continual relationships with the episcopal con ferences. 5. Finally, with regard to the use of ecclesiastical goods it is also within the co~npetency of patriarchal synods and episcopal conferences to enact ordinances by which, attention being paid first of all to the needs of the dio- 'ceses of the territory, there are imposed on the dioceses certain levies to be paid for the sake of apostolic or char-itable works or for the sake of churches which possess 'small resources or which for special reasons are in need. Power ol Bishops o[ Dioceses (N. 8 of the decree, Christus dominus) 6. The norms for the execution of number 8 have been established in the motu proprio apostolic letter, De episcoporum muneribus, dated June 15, 1966. Fostering Pastoral and Scientific Study (N. 16 of the de-cree, Christus Dominus, and n. 19 of the decree, Presby-terorum ordinis) 7. The bishops, either individually orin cooperation, should see to it that during the year after, ordination all priests, even those engaged in the ministry, complete a series of pastoral lectures and that they also attend at stated times other lectures which are to provide them with the occasion of acquiring fuller knowledge of pas-toral matters and of theological, moral, and liturgical science, of strengthening their spiritual life, and of com-municating in a mutual and fraternal way their apos-tolic experiences. The bishops or the episcopal conferences, according to the circumstances of each territory, should see to it that one or more priests of proved knowledge and virtue Implementation Vatican H VOLUME 25, 1966 943 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~944 be chosen as., directors of studies for the purpose of pro- . rooting and: organizing the pastoral: lectures as well as the other helps judged to be n.ecessary for the ~cientific and pastoral fqrma.tion of the~priests of a given territo~; such helps incl.ude st.udy centers, traveling libraries, cate-chetical, homiletic,: or liturgical congresses, and ~the like. Remuneration and Sbcial Wellare of Priests (N. 16 of the de~ree, Christus Dominus, and nos. 20-1 of the de-cree, Presb~?terorum ~dinis) 8. Patriarchal synods and episcopal conferences should see to it that norms be set up, whether for each diocese or for several dioceses in common or for the entire te~i-tory, by which appropriate provisions are made for the due sustenance of clerics who are or have been engaged in the service of the People of God. The remuneration to be made to clerics should be essentially the same for all in the same circumstances, due regard being had [or the nature of a given office and for circumstances time and .place; the remu.neration should be sufficient .to enable clerics to lead a decent life and also to be of help to the poor. ¯ ,The reform of the system of benefices is entrusted to the commission.for the revision of the Code of Canon Law. In the meantime bishops, after conferring with their council of priests, should take care to provide for a just distribution of goods including also the revenues coming from benefices. The same episcopal conferences should~see to it that at least in those regions where the sustenance of the clergy depends completely or in large part on the offer-ings of th'e faithful each diocese has a special fund in which off, rings for thi~ purpose are collected. The ad-ministrator of this fund should be the bishop of th~ dio-cese ,himself who can be ass!sted, however, by delegated priests and, when it is advantageous, by laymen experi-enced in financial'mhtters.' Finally, the same episcopal conferences should see~ to it that in each country, ecclesiastical and civil laws always being observed, there should be either interdioc-esan institutions or institutions coestablished [or vari-ous dioceses" or'a consociation for an entire country by which sufficient provision' may be. made' under the vigi-lance of °the hierarchy for an adequate health insurance and benefit program and for the sustenance of-clerics who are sick, injured, or aged; It will be left to the revision 0f the Code of Canon Law to set down conditions for the establishment in each diocese or region of another ,common fund by which bishops can meet other obligations to persons serv-ing ~the Chulch and provide [or other needs of the dio- cese and by which richer dioceses can also help poorer dioceses. Care o1 Special Groups (N. 1"8 of the decree, Christus, Dominus) 9. 'In consideration ~ of today's great numbers of emi-grants and' travelers, the episcopal conferences' are asked to entrust to a specially delegated, priest or to a special commission everything pertaining t.o the study and direc-tion of the spiritual care of th~s~ groups. Nomination of,Bishops (N. 20 of the decree; Christus Dominus) . ¯ 10. Wi~h full retention of the roman pontiff's right of freely nominating and constituting bishops and without prejudice to the discipline of the Eastern Churches, the episcopal conferences in accordance wi~h the norms given or to be given by the Apostolic See should each year consult in secret and with prudence about the pro-motion of ecclesiastical persons to the office of. bishop in their territory; and they should propose the names of candidates to the Apostolic 'See. Resigr~.ation of Bishops (N. 21 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 11. For the implementation of the prescription of number 21 of the decree, Christus Dominus, all bish-ops of dioceses as well as other persons comparable to them in law are 'earnestly requested that before the com-pletion of their seventy-fifth year~ and of their own accord they tender their ~resignation of their office, to the.c6m-petent authority which will provide for the matter after considering all the circumstances of each case. A bishop whose resignation from office has' been ac-cepted can maintain, if he desires, his residence in the diocese. Moreover, the diocese itself should provide an appropriate and worthy sustenafice for a resigned bishop. It is the duty of the conferences of bishops to determine in a general way 'the conditions according to which the dio(ese should fulfill this duty. Boundaries o[ Dioceses (Nos. 22--4 of the decree, Christus Domin~us) 12.- § 1. In order that the boundaries of dioceses can be duly revised, the episcopal conferences, each for its own territory, should examine the present territorial di-visions of. the churches, setting up, if necessary, a special commission for this. For this examination it is necessary that the status of the dioceses with regard to territory, persons, and things be duly investigated, Individual bishops who are directly affected as well as the bishops ÷ ÷ ÷ Implementation vatican 1I VOLUME 25, 1966 945 ÷ ÷ ÷ Paul VI REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 946 of the entire ecclesiastical province or region within whose limits the revision of dioceses takes place should be consulted; as far as possible there should be used the help of genuinely expert persons whether ecclesi-astical or lay; the intrinsic reasons suggesting the chang-ing of boundaries should be considered with calmness; there should be considered for possible introduction all the changes treated in numbers 22-3 of the decree,~ Christus Dominus; in the divisi6n or dismembering of dioceses care should be taken to achieve an equitable and suitable distribution of priests and of seminarians, regard being had for the needs of the ministry of salva-tion to be exercised in each diocese and for the special circumstances and wishes of the priests and seminarians. § 2 With regard to the Eastern Churches it is desira-ble that in determining the boundaries for eparchies account should also be taken of the greater closeness of those places in which the faithful of the same rite live. Faculties of Auxiliary Bishops (Nos. 25--6 of the de-cree, Christus Dominus) 13.-§ 1. Auxiliary bishops must be established for a given diocese whenever this is demanded by the genuine needs of the apostolat~ exercised there. In the matter of the power to be given to an auxiliary bishop the chief considerations to be kept in mind are the following: the welfare of the Lord's flock that is to b.e shepherded, the status of membership in the episcopal college with which the auxiliary is honored, and his effective cooperation with the bishop of the diocese. § 2. The bishop of the diocese should make his auxil-iary either a vicar general or syncellus or an episcopal vicar, dependent, however, in every case exclusively on the authority of the bishop of the diocese. § 3. In order that the common welfare of the diocese be sufficiently provided for and that the dignity of the auxiliary bishop be safeguarded, the Council desired to make known its wish that when a see is vacant those who possess the right of doing so should entrust the di-rection of the diocese to the auxiliary or, when there are more than one, to one of th~ auxiliaries. Neverthe-less, ~ unless in a given case some other arrangement be made by competent authority, an auxiliary bishop as vicar general or as episcopal vicar does not lose the powers and faculties he possesses by law when the see is occupied. When, therefore, an auxiliar)~ is not elected to the office of vicar capitular, he retains the power con-ferred on him by law until a new bishop takes possession of the see; he should exercise this power in full concord with the vicar capitular who is the head of the admin-istration of the diocese. Episcopal Vicars (N. 27 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 14. - § 1. The new office of episcopal vicar was legally instituted by the Council in order that the bishop through the increase of these new co-workers might be able to carry out his pastoral direction as well as possible. Therefore it is left to the free decision of the bishop of a diocese to constitute one or more episcopal vicars accord-ing to the special needs of the place; moreover, his fac-ulty remains intact of naming one or more vicars general according to the norm of canon 366 of the Code of Canon Law. § 2. Episcopal vicars who according to the bishop's nomination are such in a given part of the diocese or in,~a certain type of activities or with regard to the faith-ful of a given rite or to groups of persons possess the ordinary vicarious power which common law gives to the vicar general. Therefore, within the limits of their com-petency they have the habitual faculties granted by the Apostolic See to the bishop as well as the execution of rescripts unless something else has been expressly pro-vided for or was purposely reserved to the person of the bishop. Nevertheless, the bishop of a diocese is free to reserve matters that he chooses to himself or to the vicar general; likewise, he is free to confer on the episcopal vicar the special mandate prescribed by common law for certain matters. § 3. As a co-worker of the episcopal office the episcopal vicar should refer everything done or to be done to the bishop of the diocese; moreover, he should never act in opposition to the latter's mind and will. Furthermore, he should not neglect to institute frequent conferences with the other co-workers of the bishop--~specially with the vicar general in ways to be determined by the bishop of the diocese; the purpose of such conferences is to strengthen unity of discipline among the clergy and the people and to obtain greater results in the diocese. § 4. A request denied by a vicar general or by an epis-copal vicar cannot be validly granted by another vicar of the same bishop even though he has considered the reasons for the denial of the vicar who made it. Moreover, a request denied by a vicar general or syn-cellus or by an episcopal vicar and afterward obtained from the bishop is invalid if no mention was made of the previous denial; a request, however, denied by the bishop cannot be validly obtained from a vicar general or an episcopal vicar without the consent of the bishop even if the previous denial has been mentioned. § 5. Episcopal vicars who are not auxiliary bishops are nominated for a set time to be determined in the very act of establishing them; nevertheless, they can be re- + + + Implementation Vatican I1 VOLUME 25, 1966 947 + ÷ ÷ Paul Vl REVIE~V FOR RELIGIOUS moved at the will of the bishop. When the see is vacant, they lose their office unless they are auxiliary bishops; it is, however, advisable for the vicar capitular to use them as his delegates so that the good of the diocese will not be harmed. The Council of Priests and the Pastoral Council (N. 27 of the decree, Christus Dominus, and n. 7 of the decree, Presbyterorum ordinis) 15. The following points refer to the council of priests: § 1. In each diocese according to ways and forms to be determined by the bishop there should be a council of priests; that is, a group or senate of priests representing the priests as a whole; this senate is to be such that by its advice it can effectively assist the bishop in the admin-istration of the diocese. In this council the bishop should listen to his priests, consult them, and confer with them about matters pertaining to the needs of pastoral work and to the good of the diocese. § 2. Insofar as they have a part in the care of souls and in the works of the apostolate religious will also be able to be admitted among the members of the council of priests. § 3. The council of priests has only a consultive voice. 24. When the see is vacant, the council .of priests ceases unless in special circumstances authenticated by the Holy See the vicar capitular or the apostolic admin-istrator confirms it. However, the new bishop will establish his own new council of priests. 16. The following points refer to the pastoral council so highly recommended by the decree, Christus Dominus: § 1. The work of the pastoral council is to investigate and appraise all pastoral works and to make practical conclusions concerning such works. All this is to be done in such a way that conformity with the gospel be pro-moted with regard to the life and action of the People of God. § 2. The pastoral council, which has only a consultive voice, can be constituted in various ways. Ordinarily, even though by its nature it is a permanent institution, its membership and activity can be for a definite time, performing its work on given occasions. The bishop can convoke it whenever it will seem opportune to him. § 3. In the pastoral council clerics, religious, and lay persons, specially chosen by the bishop, have a part. § 4. In order that the purpose of this council be actu-ally achieved in practice, it is desirable that its work in common be preceded by previous stndy with the help, if the matter warrants it, of institutes or offices which are at work in the area of the council's purpose. § 5. When hierarchies of diverse rites are present in the same territory, it is strongly recommended that as far as possible the pastoral council be interritual; that is, that it consist of clerics, religious, and lay persons of the diverse rites. § 6. Other dispositions are left to the free determina-tion of the bishop of the diocese, account being taken of the matters mentioned in number 17. 17.-§ 1. In matters involving the council of priests, the pastoral council, and their relations to each other or to the committees already existing by reason of present law, it is advisable that the bishops, especially when they are met in their conferences, take common counsel and publish similar norms in all the dioceses of the territory. The bishops should also take care that all diocesan councils be coordinated as closely as possible by a clear-cut determination of competency, by mutual sharing of members, by common or successive sessions, and by other such means. §2. In the meantime until they are revised, the bishop's councils that are in existence by reason of ex-isting law, that is, his cathedral chapter, his group of consultors, and others of the same type if there be such, retain their own work and their own competency. Suppression of Rights and Privileges in the Conferral of O~ces and Benefices (N. 28 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 18.-§ 1. The good of souls demands that the bishop possess due liberty to confer offices and benefices, even those without the care of souls, in a suitable and equi-table manner on the clerics who are best fitted for them. The Apostolic See will no longer reserve to itself the conferral of offices or benefices, whether with or without the care of souls, unless they be consistorial; in the law of the formulation of every benefice those clauses will be eliminated in the future which restrict the freedom of the bishop with regard to the conferral of the benefice; non-onerous privileges, hitherto granted to physical or moral persons and involving the right of election, nomi-nation, or presentation for any non-consistorial office or benefice, are abrogated; also abrogated are customs and rights of nominating, electing, and presenting priests for a parochial office or benefice; the law of competitive examinations is suppressed for offices and benefices, in-cluding those without the care of souls. With regard to what are called popular elections, it is the duty of the episcopal conferences where such elec-tions exist to propose to the Apostolic See what seems ÷ ÷ + Implementation of Vatican I1 VOLUME 25, 1966 9,i9 ÷ ÷ ÷ Paul VI REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 950 most opportune with a view of abrogating them as far as possible. § 2. If, however, rights and privileges in this matter were established by reason of a convention between the Apostolic See and a nation or by reason of a contract made with physical or moral persons, the matter of the cessation of such rights and privileges must be taken up with the interested parties. Deans (N. 30 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 19.-§ 1. Among the closer co-workers of the bishop of a diocese are to be included those priests who exercise a pastoral function of a supraparochial nature; among such are vicars forane who are also called archpriests or deans and among Eastern Christians protopriests. For the exercise of this position there should be appointed priests who are outstanding for their knowledge and their apostolic activity and who, when they are given due faculties by the bishop, can suitably promote and direct common pastoral action in the territory entrusted to them. Accordingly, this office is not affixed to a deter-mined parish. 2. Vicars forane, archpriests, or deans are appointed for a set time to be determined by special law; however, they can be removed at the will of the bishop. In the case of the nomination, transfer, or removal of parish priests in the territory of which the deans are in charge, it is advisable that the bishop of the diocese consult them. Removal, Transfer, and Resignation of Pastors (N. 31 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 20.-§ 1. Without ~rejudice to the present law of religious, the bishop can legitimately remove any pastor from a parish whenever in the opinion of the bishop his ministry, even without any serious fault of his own, is made harmful or at least ineffective because of any of the causes listed in law or for similar reasons; until the revision of the Code the mode of proceeding in this matter is to be that laid down for irremovable pastors (cc. 2157-=61 of the Code of Canon Law), the law of the Eastern churches retaining its force. § 2. If the good of souls or the'need or welfare of the Church. demands it, the bishop can transfer a pastor from his parish in which he is successful to another parish or to any other ecclesiastical office. If, however, the pastor refuses, the bishop, in order that the transfer be validly enacted, should follow in every detail the way of acting noted above. § 3. In order .that the prescriptions of number 31 of the decree, Christus Dominus, can be put into execu- tion, it is requested of all pastors that of their own accord before the completion of their seventy-fifth year they submit their resignation to their own bishop who, hav-ing considered all the circumstances, will decide whether to accept or defer the resignation. The bishop should provide those who resign with suitable sustenance and habitation. Establishment, Suppression, and Change of Parishes (N. 32 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 21.-§ 1. Every effort should be made that there be suitable partitioning or division of parishes in which because of the excessive number of the faithful or the excessive extent of the territory or because of any reason whatsoever apostolic activity can be exercised only with difficulty or in a less than suitable way. Likewise, parishes that are too small should be united into one as far as the matter demands and circumstances allow. § 2. Parishes should no longer be united by full right to chapters of canons. If any are so united, after consul-tation with the chapter and the council of priests they should be separated and a pastor established-~selected either from the capitulars or not--who should possess all the faculties which belong to pastors .according to the prescriptions of law. § 3. By his own authority and after consultation with the council of priests the bishop of a diocese can es-tablish, suppress, and change parishes; however, he must do this in such a way that if there are conventions be-tween the Apostolic See and the civil government or if there are rights involved belonging to physical or moral persons, the matter be suitably adjuste~d with the pre~ ceding subjects by the competent authority. Religious (Nos. 33--5 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 22. The norms set forth here apply to all religious, men and women, of whatever rite, but without prejudice to the rights of the Eastern patriarchs. 23-§ 1. All religious, including .exempt ones, working in places where a rite different from their own is the only one or is so much greater with respect to the num-be of its faithful that in common estimation it is judged. to be the only one, are dependent on the local ordinary or hierarch in those things which involve the external works of the ministry; and they are subject to him ac-cording to the norms of law. § 2. Where, however, there are many local ordinaries or hierarchs, the same religious in discharging their func-tions among the faithful of different rites are bound by the norms which are given by the common consent of these ordinaries and hierarchs. VOLUME 25, 1966 951 Paul, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS , 24. Although. the exemption of religious within its own legitima.te confines also applies in mission localities, still, because of the special circumstances of the sacred ministry exercised in those places and according to the' mind of the decree, .dd gentes divinitus," the special stat-utes are to be observed that have been giv.en or approved by the Apostolic See with regard to the relationships be-tween the local ordinary and the religious superior, es-pecially in the case'of; a mission entrusted to a given institute. 25.-§ 1. All religious, including exempt ones, .are bound by the laws, decrees, and ordinances enacted by the local ordinary with regard, to the various works con-cerned with the exercise of the sacred apostolate as well as with pastoral, and social action pr~scribed or recom-mended by the local ordinary. § 2. They are likewise bound ,by the laws, decrees, and ordinances ~nacted by the local ordinary or by the conference of bishops regarding among other things~ the following matters: a) the public"use of all means of social communica-tion according to the norm of numbers 20 and 21 of the decree, Inter miril~ca; ~ . , b) attendance at public spectacles; c) membership or cooperati.on with societies or asso-ciations which the 'local. ordinary or the episcopal con-ference has declared forbidden; d) dccle~iasti~al garb, thqugh there remain in force canofi 596 6f the ~Code of Canon Law and canon 139 of the Code of Canofi Law f6r. the East'.ern Church; the matter of ecdlesiastic.al g~.,rb 'is to include the following regulation: The l'6dal, ordinary or the episcopal confer-ence, in order ~6'~ ~oid'scarid~ilizin'g the faithful, can prohibit, the clergy, both secular and religious, including the exempt,,on~s., from publi,cly wearing lay garb. ¯ 26. Furthermore, the sarape ~r$1igio~us are bound by the laws and decrees' efia~teff by the local ordinary with re-gard to the public exercise 6f -~orship. They "are bound to this in their 6wn churches" ~nd in their public as well as their semipublic oratories if the faithful ordinarily attend them, without prejud.ic~, however,, to the rite iegitimately used f~r theirs.,, own c.ommunity only and account bei.ng taken of ~the o'rdo for the choral Divine Office and for the. sacred functions pertaining to the spe-cial purpose ~f"the institute. 27.-§.1. The epis.copal .conference of each nat.ion, having consulted the religious superiors involved in the matter, can determine norms with regard to the soliciting Of donations;, the~ norms must be observed by all reli-gious, not excluding those who by reason of their insti-. tute are called and are mendicants, without prejudice, however, to their right to beg. § 2. Likewise, religious should not begin the collec-tion of funds by means of a public ,subscription without the consent of the ordinaries of the places in which the funds are collected. ~ 28. The proper or special ~vorks of ~ach institute are those which with the approval of the Apostolic See have been undertaken from its foundation or on account of venerable traditions and which accordingly have been defined and regulated by the constitutions and other proper laws of the institu.t_e. These works, should be zealously fostered by' re!igious, special account being made of the spiritual necessities of the dioceses and fra-ternal concord being maintained with the diocesan clergy and with other institutes engaged in similar works. 29.-§ 1. The.proper or special works exercised in the institute's houses, even those that are rented, are de-pendent on the superiors of the institute who should direct and regulate them according to the constitu-tions. Nevertheless, works of this kind are also subject to the jurisdiction of the local ordinary according to the norm of law. § 2. However, works, ' even though proper and special to the institute, which are entrusted to it by the local ordinary are subject to the ordinary's authority and direction, there being retained, however, the right of religious superiors to watch over the life of their mem-bers as well as to watch over, together with the local ordinary, the execution of the functions entrusted to them. 30.- § 1. ~)ther matters of law being observed, a writ-ten agreement should be made between the local ordi-nary and the competent superior in the case of,the com-mitting of a work of" the apostolate to an institute by the local ordinary. This agreement among other things should clearly define details concerning the work to be done, the members to be .devoted to it, and its financial aspects. § 2. For these works genuinely fitted religious should be selected by their proper ,religious superior after mu-tual consultation with the local ordinary; and if it is a question of an ecclesiastical office to be conferred on a member, the religious should be nbminated by the local ordinary himself, with the presentatibn or at least the assent' of his proper superior and for a period of time determined by mutual consent. 31. Even when'a task is to' be entrusted to a given religious by the "local ordinary or by the episcopal con-ference, this should he"done with the consent of his superior and through a written agreement. ÷ ÷ ÷ Implementation oJ Vatican H VOLUME 25, 1966 953 Paul VI REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 954 32. For a serious reaSon any religious can be removed from the work entrusted to him both at the wish of the commissioning authdrity after the religious superior has been advised arid at the wish of the superior after the one commissioning ~has been advised. In this matter both have parity in law and the consent of the other is not required; neither one is bound to disclose, and much less to prove, t6 the other the reason for his decision, without prejudice, however, to non-suspensive appeal to the Apostolic See. 33.-§ 1. The local ordinary by his own authority and with the consent of the competent religious superior can entrust a parish to a religious institt~te even by erecting it in a religious church of the institute. This commis-sioning of a parish can be done permanently or' for a def-inite period of time; in either case it should be done by m~ans of a written agreement between the ordinary and the comp'etent superior of the institute; in this agreement among other matters there should be expressly and clearly set forth mat'ters pertaining to the work to be done, the persons to be assigned it, and to the finances involved. § 2. With the permission of the proper superior the local ordinary can constitute a religious as pastor of a parish not entrusted ~to the inStitute; in this case a spe-cially adapted agreement should be made with the com-petent superior of the ~nstltute. 34. - § 1. A religious house, whether formal or nonfor-mal; pertaining to an exempt institute cannot be sup-pressed without the consent of the Apostolic See and without consultation of the local ordinary. § 2. Religious superiors should not be hasty in seek-ing to suppress for whatever reason a house or a work; for they Should r~member that all religious have the duty to work hard and diligently not only for the build-ing up and increase of the entire Mystical Body of Ch'rigt but also for the welfare of the particular churches. § 3. When, however, suppression Of a house or work is asked for by superio?s, especially when the reason is lack of persons, the local ordinary should consider the peti-tion in a benignant way. 35. Even.when established by the Apostolic See, asso-ciations 'of the faithful which are under the leadership an~ direction of a religiou.s institute are under the juris-diction and vigilance of the local ordinary who has the right and duty of visiting them according to the norms of the sacred canons. If they are engaged in the external works of the apostolate or in .the promotion .of divine worship, they must observe the prescriptions made in these matters b9 the local ordinary or the episcopal conference. 36.-§ 1. The apostolic zeal of the members of the in-stitutes of perfection who do not profess a purely con-templative life should not be limited to works proper to each institute or to others that are occasionally as-sumed in such a way that local ordinaries, having con-sidered the special characteristics of each institute and with the consent of the competent religious superior, can-not call on not only priest religious but also on all men and women members to assist in the various ministries of the dioceses or regions because of the needs of souls and lack of clergy. § 2. If in the judgment of the local ordinary the help of religious is thought necessary or highly useful [or ex-ercising the multiple work of the apostolate and for fos-tering undertakings of a pastoral nature in secular par-ishes or in diocesan associations, religious superiors should as far as they can furnish the desired help when the same ordinary asks for it. 37. In all churches as well as in all public or semi-public oratories belonging to religious which as a matter of fact and habitually are open to the faithful, the local ordinary can order that episc6pal documents be publicly read and catechetical instructions be given and that spe-cial offerings be collected for specified parochial, dioc-esan, national, or universal purposes, all of which offer-ings are to be carefully sent to the episcopal curia. 38. If the faithful ord!narily attend them, the local ordinary has the right of visiting the churches and ora-tories, even semipublic ones, of religious, including the exempt ones, in order to assure the observance of the gen-eral laws and of the episcopal decrees with regard to di-. vine worship. If it happens that abuse is noted in this area and if warnings given the religious superior have been without effect, he himself can take care of the mat-ter by his own authority. 39. - § 1. In accord with the norm of number 35, 4, of the decree, Christus Dorninus, the general ordering of the. Catholic schools of religious institutes, their right of directing them being safeguarded as well as the norms given in the decree, number 35, 5, concerning the previ-ous mutual consultations between bishops and religious superiors, involves the overall distribution of all Catholic schools in the diocese, their, intercooperation, and their supervision to see to it that they are no less suitable than other schools for the achievement of their c~fltural and social purposes. § 2. With the exception of purely internal schools open exclusively to members of an institute, the schools, colleges, oratories, recreation centers, homes, orphanages of religious institutes as well as other similar institutions of theirs for works of religion or of charity, whether ÷ ÷ ÷ Implementation Vatican I1 VOLUME 25, 1966 " "" 955 spiritual or temporal, can be visited by the local ordinary either personally or through another in accord with the norm of the sacred canons." 40. The norms for the inclusion of religious in dioce-san works and ministries to be exercised under the direc-tion of the bishop should also be applied, suitable adapta-tions being made, to other works and ministries which exceed diocesan boundaries. + ÷ + Paul VI REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 956 Episcopal Conferences (N. 38 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 41. - § 1. The bishops of countries or territories in which an episcopal conference is not yet had should act promptly to establish one in accord with the norm of the decree, Christus Dominus; and they should frame statutes for it and send them to the Apostolic See for examination. § 2. Already established episcopal conferences must draw up their own statutes according to the prescrip-tions of the Council; or, if they already have a set of statutes, they should revise them in accord with the mind of the same Council and submit them for examination to the Apostolic See. § 3. Bishops of countries in which it is difficult to es-tablish a conference, after consultation with the Apostolic See, should join that conference which best fits the needs of the apostolate of their own nation. § 4. Episcopal conferences 6f many nations, that is, international ones, can be established only with the ap-proval of the Holy See whose right it is to establish special norms. Moreover, whenever any projects or plans of an international nature are undertaken, the Holy See should be advised about them beforehand. § 5. Relationships between episcopal conferences, es-pecially those of neighboring countries, can be main-tained in an opportune and suitable way by the secre-tariats of the conferences. The secretariats can among other matters be concerned with the following activities: a) to communicate the principal ways of proceeding especially in pastoral matters and activity; b) to send written reports giving the decisions of the conference or to send the proceedings or documents which are issued by the common agreement of the bishops; c) to point out various undertakings of the apostolate that have been proposed or recommended by the epis-copal conference and that may be useful in similar cases; d) to propose serious matters which in modern times and in particular circumstances seem to be of the greatest importance; e) to indicate dangers or errors in the country that may creep into other nations, making this indication so that suitable and opportune means can be taken to prevent, remove, or limit them; and to do other similar things. Boundaries of Ecclesiastical Provinces or Regions (Nos. 39-41 of the decree, Christus Dominus) 42. The conferences of bishops should attentively study whether the better achievement of the welfare of souls a) requires a more suitable determination of the boundaries of ecclesiastical provinces or b) indicates the establish-ment of ecclesiastical regions. If the answer to these points is affirmative, the conferences should send to the Holy See the ways by which needed revisions of the boundaries of ecclesiastical provinces and the needed establishment of regions are to be enacted in law. More-over, they should indicate to the Holy See the ways in which those dioceses in the territory should be aggregated which up to now have been immediately subject to the Holy See. Pastoral Directories (N. 44 of the decree, Christus Domi-nu$) 43. With regard to pastoral directories, patriarchal synods and episcopal conferences are asked to be prompt in studying the general and special questions to be treated in the directories and to communicate their advice and desires as soon as possible to the Apostolic See. II NORMS FOR THE DECREE ON RELIGIOUS LIFE In order that the effects of the Council may be care-fully brought to maturity, religious institutes should first of all promote a newness of spirit and then in a prudent but inventive way see to the suitable renewal of life and discipline by carefully studying the dogmatic constitu-tion, Lumen gentium (Chapters 5 and 6) as well as the decree, Perfectae caritatis, and by putting into effect the teaching and norms of the Council. The following norms, which apply and give insistence to the decree, Perfectae caritatis, hold with suitable adaptation for all religious, Latin as well as Eastern; they describe a way of proceeding and lay down certain pre-scriptions. PART I THE WAY TO PROMOTE A SUITABLE RENEWAL OF RELIGIOUS LIFE I. Those Who Should Promote a Suitable Renewal 1. The principal role in the renewal and adaptation of religious life pertains to tbe institutes themselves; they + ÷ ÷ Im~lementation o] Vatican 11 VOLUME 25, 1966 957 ÷ ÷ ÷ Paul REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 958 will achieve this especially through general chapters or, in the case of the Eastern Churches, through synax~es. The work of the chapters will be achieved no~t only by passing laws but even more so by promoting ~piritual and apostolic vitality. 2. The cooperation of all superiors and members is necessary, to renew religious life in themselves, to prepare the spirit of the chapters, to complete their work, and to faithfully observe the laws and norms enacted by the chapters. ~ 3. In order to promote a fitting renewal in each in-stitute, within two or at most three years there should meet a specia! general chapter, ordinary or extraordinary. If the chapter itself so decides by a secret vote, the chapter can be divided into two parts separated in time by an interval of generally not more than a,.year. 4. In: preparing for this chapter the general council should make suitable provision for extensive and free consultation of the members and it should put the re-stilts of this consultation into a usable form in order that the work of the chapter may be helped and orientated. This can be done, for example, by consulting conventual and proVincial~ chapters, by establishing comniissions, by issuing questionfiaires, and so forth. ~ 5. In the case of stauropegiac monasteries [Eastern monasteries with' a special type of exemption] it will be the duty of the patriarch to enact norms for achieving this consultation. 6. This general Tchapter has the right to change for experimental purposes .given noinns of the constitutions or, in the case of the Eastern churches, of the typica pro-vided that the purpose, nature, and characteristics of the institute are retained.,. Experimentations in things agaihst the general law, a matter t6 be done with prudence, will be gladly permitted by the Holy See as opportunity war-rants. These experimentations can be extended until the next ordinary general chapter which will itself have the power to again extend .them but not beyond the immediately following chapter. 7. The general council will enjoy the same power in the time period between these chapters according to con-ditions to be determined by them; in the case of the East-ern churches, this power will be had in independent monasteries by the hegoumenos with the lesser synaxis. 8. Definitive approbation of the constitutions is re-served to the competent authority. 9. With regard to the revision of the constitutions of nuns, each monastery after the fashion of a chapter or also the nuns individually should express their opinions which, in order that the unity of the religious family may be fostered according to its own characteristics, should be collected by the supreme authority of the order if there is one and otherwise by a delegate of the Holy See or, in the case of Eastern religious, by the patriarch or the local hierarch. Opinions and advice can also be ob-tained from consessions of federations or from other legitimately convoked meetings. 10. If in monasteries of nuns certain experimentations for a time with regard to observances should be judged opportune, they can be permitted by the general superiors or by delegates of the Holy See and, among the Eastern churches, by the patriarch or the local hierarch. Neverthe-less, account should be taken of the mentality and atti-tudes of cloistered persons who have need for stability and security. 11. It will be the duty of the authorities mentioned above to see to it that the text of the constitutions is re-vised with the advice and help of the monasteries them-selves and that they are submitted for the approval of the Holy See or the competent hierarchy. 1I. Revision of Constitutions and Typica 12. The general laws of each institute (whether called constitutions, typica, rules, or. any other name) should include the following elements: a) gospel and theological principles concerning the religious life and its union with the Church as well as pertinent and specific declarations in which "are recog-nized and preserved the spirit and characteristic aims of the founders as well as the sound traditions- all of which constitute the heritage of each institute" (n. 2, b) of the decree, Per[ectae caritatis); b) the juridical norms necessary for clearly defining the characteristics, purposes, and means of the institute; these norms should not be overmultiplied but should al-ways be expressed in an adequate way. 13, The union of both these elements--the spiritual, namely, and the juridical--is necessary in order that the principal documents of the institutes may have a stable foundation and that a genuine spirit and a vitalizing norm pervade them; hence care should be taken to avoid composing a text that is only juridical or merely exhorta-tory. 14. From the fundamental document of institutes there should be excluded those matters that are already obsolete or changeable according to the customs of a given age or reflect merely local customs. Those norms which reflect the present age, the physical and psychic, status of the, members, and ,the special char-acteristics of today should be placed in secondary docu- 4- 4- Implementation o/ Vatican I! VOLUME 25, 1966 959 Paul REVIEWFOR RELIGIOUS 96O ments which are called "directgries," custom books, or some other such title. " IlL Criteria of(SuitableRenewal 15. The norms and the spirit to which a suitable re-newal should correspond '~hould be derived not,only from the decree, Perfectae caritatis, but .also from the other documents of the Second Vatican' Council, especially from Chapters" 5 and 6 of the ,dogmatic constitution, Lumen gentium. 16. Institutes should see to it that the principles es-tablished in number 2 of the decree, Perfectae caritatis, generally inform the renewal of their Own religious life; therefore: - , § 1. The sLudy and meditation of Scripture should be deeply fostered in all the members from the novitiate on. Likewise, care should be taken that all ,the members ~hare by' fitting means in the mystery and life: of .the Church. § 2. The doctrine of religious life in all its various aspects (theological, historical, canonical, and so forth) should be investigated 'and explained. § 3. In order to secure the good of the Church, in-stitutes should strive for a full. knowledge of their origi-nM spirit so that, this spirit having been faithfully pre-served in the adaptations that are decided on, religious life may be purified 6f alien elements~and freed from ob-solete matters. , ~ ~ 17. Those things are~ to be regarded, as obsolete which do not constitute the nature and purpose of the institute and, having lost'their significance and relevance; no longer truly help religious, life, account,~however, being taken of the witness which the religious state should pro-vide according to its own function., ' , . '~ 18. The way ~of governing should be such that "~hap-ters and councils., each in their,:own ,way should ex-press the shared responsibility of all thd members for the welfare of the entire community" (n. 14 iof the decree, Per[ectae caritatis);,,this will be principally,achieved if tlie members have a truly effective part in. the selection of the'membership bf-chapters and councils. Similarly, the way of governing should be such that 'in~ accor~d.with the demands of modern times~ the exercise of authority is made more efficacious and more unencumbered. Hence superiors of ever.y level should be given adequate powers so that useless or overly freqiaent recourse to!higher au-thorities is not multiplied. 19. Moreover; a suitable renewal cannot be made once and for all but must be fostered in a continuous way by the help of the fervor of the members and by the solici-tude ~of chapters and superiors. PART II MATrER$ FOR ADAPTATION AND RENEWAL I. The Divine O~ice o]'Brothers and Sisters (N. 3 of the decree, Perfe~ctge caritatis) 20. Although religious who recite a 'duly approved Little Office are engaged in the public prayer of the Church (see the 'consfitution, 'Sacrosanctum Concilium, n. 98)., still it is highly recommended to institutes that in place of a Little Office 'they recite either in ~part or in whole the Divine Office so that they may take more in-umate part in the liturgical life of the Church. However, Eastern'members should recite the doxologies, and the divine praises in accord with their own typica and cus-toms. II. Mental Prayer (N. 6 of the decree, Perfdctae caritatis) 21.'In order that reli~gious may participate more inti-mately a.nd fruitfully in the sacred mystery of the Eucha-rist and that their life be nourished riaore abundantly, greater place should be given to mental prayer in prefer-ence to a multiplicity of vocal prayers, there being main-tained,, however, the exercises of devotion commonly re-ceived in the Chui~ch and du~ care being taken that the members are diligently instructed in the conduct of"~he spiritual life. ' III. Mortification (Nos. 5 and 12 of the decree, Per]ectae caritatis) 22. Religious more than the rest of the f~iitfiful should be devoted to works of penance and mortification. How-ever," the ,special penitential observances~ of institutes .should, as far as there is need, be r~evised so that, du9 con-sideration having been given to the traditions of the East .or the West and to modern conditions, the .members can actually put them into practice together with new forms taken from today's mode of living. IV. Poverty (N. 13 of the decree, Per]ectae caritatis) 23. Institutes, especially through their general chap-ters, should diligently and concretely promote the spirit and practice of poverty in accord with the mind of num-ber 13 of the decree, Per[ectae caritatis; in accord with their distinctive nature they should also seek and insist on new forms of poverty which will make the exercise and witness of poverty more efficacious for the present time. 24. Institutes of simple vows should themselves decide in their gdneral chapter whether there should be intro-duced into the constitutions a renunciation of patrimony + + ÷ Implementation 'Vatican II VOLUME 25, 1966 961 already acquired or to be acquired and, if it is decided to do so, whether it should be obligatory or voluntary and when it should be done, that is, whether before perpetual profession or after some years. Paul VI REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 96~ .V. Common Life (N. 15 of the decree, Perfectae caritatis) 25. In institutes devoted to works of the apostolate .common life, since it is of great importance if the mem-bers as a family united in Christ are to reactualize their brotherly fellowship, should be promoted by every means in a way that is fitted to the vocation of the institnte. 26, In institutes of this kind the daily order can often not be ~the same in all the houses nor at times in the same house for. all its.members. However, it should also be so arranged that the religious besides the time given to spiritual matters and to work may have some time for themselves and caw enjoy suitable recreation. 27. General chapters and synaxes should investigate ways in which those members who are called lay brothers, cooperators, or some other name can gradually obtain active voice in specific acts of the community and in elections as well.as passive voice with regard to certain positions; in this way they will become more closely .joined to the life and works of the community, and priests .will be able,to devote themselves with more freedom to the ministries. 28. In monasteries which have come to the decision of ¯ having,'Only one class of nuns, choir obligations should be specified in the constitutions, consideration being .giye.n to the diversity of persons which the distinction of works and special vocations requires. 29. Sisters devoted to the exte~'nal service of monas-teries, called oblates or some other name, should be gov-erned by special statutes in which consideration should be given to their vocation which is not purely contempla-tive and to the exigencies of the vocation of the nuns in ufiion with whom they live even though they are not nuns. The superioress of the monastery has a serious'respon-sibility to,take solicitor's care of them, to provide them .w.ith a suitable religious formation, to treat them with a g~nuine spirit of love, and to foster their bond of fellow-ship with the community of nuns. VI. The Cloister of Nuns (N. 16 of the decree, Perlectae caritatis) 30. The papal cloister of monasteries is to be consid-ered as an ascetical institution which is specially linked to their'distinctive vocation since it is a sign, defense, and special form of their withdrawal from the world. Nuns of the Eastern rites should observe their own kind of cloister in the same spirit. 31. This cloister is to be adapted in such a way that material separation from the' outside is always retained. However, each family according to its own spirit can de-termine and specify in the constitutions particular norms for this material separation. 32. Minor cloister is abrogated. Nuns, therefore, who by their institute are devoted to external works should define this cloister in their constitutions. But nuns who, t~hough contemplat.ive by reason of their institute, have nevertheless under'taken external works, should, after a sufficient amount of tJ.me granted them for deliberation, either give UP their external works and retain papal cloister or retain the works and define their own cloister in the constitutions, their status as nuns bein~ retained. ' VII. The Training of,Religious (N. 18 of the decree, Perfectae caritatis) 33. The training of members from the novitiate on should not be conducted in the. same way in all institutes, but rather consideration should be given to the distinc-tive nature of each institute. In revising and adapting training, an adequate and prudent place should be given to experience. . 34. The matters set down in the decree, Optata.m totius (on the training of priests), should be suitably, adapted in accord with the nature of each insti.tute.and faith-fully observed in the way of training religious clerics. ¯ 35. Further training to be given after the novitiate, in a way. suited to the individual institute is necessary for all members even those of the contemplativ, e life, for brothers in lay institutes, and for sisters in institutes de-voted to apostolic works. This training; already in. exist-ence in many institutes under the name of juniorate, scholasticate, or some other title, should in general ex-tend for the entire period of; temporary vows. 36. This training should be given in suitable houses; and, lest it be merely thebretical, it should be comple-mented by an apprenticelike exercise of the works and functions that are in accord with the characteristics and circumstances of each institute so that the ones being trained may be gradually introduced to the life which they will live thereafter. 37. Without prejudice to the characteristic formation in each institute, when individual institutes cannot suffi-ciently provide academic or technical training, this can be supplied by a fraternal collaboration of a number of them. This can take different forms and ways: common lectures or courses, the lending of teachers, even the con-solidation of teachers and equipment in a common Implementation Vatican II VOLUME 25, "1966 963 school to be attended by members of a number of insti-tutes. Institutes which are provided with the necessary means should willingly give help to others. 38. After adequate experimentation, it will be the duty of each institute to draw up its own adapted norms for the training of members. VIII. The Union and. Suppression of Institutes (Nos. 21-2 of the decree, Perfectae caritatis) 39. The promotion of union of any kind among in-stitutes presupposes an adequate spiritual, psychological, and juridical preparation in accord with the mind of Perfectae caritatis. To achieve this it will often be advan-tageous for institutes to be helped by an adviser approved by the competent authority. 40. In the cases and circumstances just mentioned, the good of the Church is to be looked for, due consideration, however, being given to the special nature of each in-stitute and to the freedom of individual members. 41. After all circumstances have been considered, the following when found together should retain a specie/1 place among the criteria which can contribute to form-ing the judgment to suppress an institute or a monas-tery: a small number of religious relative to the years of existence; lack of candidates over a number of years; ad-vanced age of the greater part of the members. If sup-pression is decided on, provision should be made that the suppressed institution be joined "if it be possible, to an-other, more vigorous institute or monastery which is not very different in purpose and spirit" (n. 21 of the decree, Perfectae caritatis). Each religious, however, should be previously consulted; and everything should be done in charity. Paul Vl REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 964 IX. Conferences and Unions of Majqr Superiors and Superioresses (N. 23 of the decree, Perfectae caritatis) 42. Care should be taken that the union of superiors general and the union of superioresses general be able to be heard and consulted by means of a commission estab-lished with the Sacred Congregation of Religious. 43. It is of the greatest importance that the national conferences or unions of major superiors and of major superioresses should confidently and respectfully cooper-ate with the episcopal conferences (see n. 35, 5 of the decree, Christus Dominus; n. 33 of the decree, Ad gentes divinitus). Hence it is hoped that matters pertaining to both sides will be treated in mixed commissions composed of bishops and major superiors or superioresses. CONCLUSION 44. These norms, which apply to religious of the en-tire Church, leave intact the general laws of the Church, whether of the Latin Church or of the Eastern Churches, as well as the specific laws of religious institutes unless these norms change them explicitly or implicitly. III NORMS FOR IMPLEMENTING THE DECREE ON MISSIONARY ACTIVITY Vatican Council II's decree, ,4d genres divinitus (on the missionary activity of the Church), should be es-teemed by the entire Church and be faithfully observed by everyone so that the entire People of God should be-come genuinely missionary and conscious of its mission-ary obligation; local ordinaries should see to it that the decree comes to the knowledge of all the faithful: there should be clergy conferences and sermons to the people to explain and emphasize the common obligation of all with regard to missionary activity. In order to make the application of the decree easier and more faithful, the following enactments are given: 1. The theology of missions should be included in the theological doctrine that is to be taught and progressively deepened; this is to be done in such a way that the mis-sionary nature of the Church is clearly visible. More-over, the ways of the Lord in His preparation for the gospel and the possibility of salvation for those not evangelized should be considered; and emphasis must be given to the necessity of evangelization and of incorpora-tion into the Church (Chapter 1 of the decree, Ad gentes divinitus). All these matters should be kept in view when studies in seminaries and universities are newly organized and duly ordered (n. 39). 2. Episcopal conferences are invited to propose to the Holy See as soon as possible general questions abont the missions which can be considered in the coming meeting of the synod of bishops (n. 29). 3. To increase the missionary spirit in the Christian people, prayers and daily sacrifices should be fostered in such a way that the annual Mission Day shonld appear as a spontaneous indication of that spirit (n. 36). Bishops and episcopal conferences should compose petitions for the missions to be inserted into the Prayer of the Faithful at Mass. 4. In each diocese a priest should be designated for the effective promotion of missionary undertakings, and he should also be a member of the pastoral council of the diocese (n. 38). ÷ ÷ ÷ Implementation o! Vatican 1I VOLUME 25, 1966 965 + ÷ ÷ Paul REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 966 5. To promote the missionary spirit students in semi-naries and young people of Catholic associations should be encouraged to have contacts with seminary students and similar associations in the missions so that a mutual understanding may foster in the Christian people a mis-sionary and ecclesial consciousness (n. 38). 6. Being aware of the urgency of the evangelization of the world, bishops should promote missionary voca-tions among their clerics and young people; and to in-stitutes engaged in 'missionary work they should furnish the means and opportunities by which they may make the needs of the missions known in the diocese and. may arouse vocations (n. 38). In arousing vocations for the missions care should be taken to set forth the mission of the Church to all peoples and the ways in which various types (institutes, priests, religious, and lay persons of both sexes) try_ to achieve this mission. Chiefly, however, .the special missionary vocation "for life" (nos. 23, 24) should be extolled and illustrated by examples. 7. The Pontifical Missionary Works should be pro-moted in all dioceses; and their statutes, especially those with regard.to the transmission of assistance~ should be duly obser.ved (n. 38): 8. Since.the .offerings given to the missions by the faithful of their own accord are not nearly sufficient, it is recommended that as soon as possible there .be enacted a set contribution, proportioned to the revenues of each, which both the diocese and the parishes and other group-ings of the diocese should pay each year and which should be distributed by the Holy See, all other obligations of the faithful remaining (n. 38). 9. Episcopal conferences should have an episcopal' com-mission for the missions whose, work it will be to foster among the dioceses missionary activity and consciousness and an abiding attitude of cooperation, to be .in contact with other episcopal conferences, and to, investigate ways in which as far as possible equitable arrangements of missionary help may be safeguarded (n. 38). 10. Because missionary institutes remain very neces-sary, all should acknowledge that they have had the work of evangelization entrusted to them by ecclesiastical au-thority in order to carry out the missionary dutyof the entire People of God (n. 27). 11. Bishops should also use missionary institutes in order that they might enkindle the faithful with a desire for missionary activity; bishops should also furnish them opportunities, right order being observed, of arousing and fostering in young people vocations to the missions and of asking for contributions (nos. 23, 37, 38). In order, however, that greater unity and effectiven&s be achieved, the bishops should use a national or regional missionary council which will consist of the directors of the Pontifical Works and of the missionary institutes existing in the country or region. 12. Each missionary institute should as soon as possible take care of its own adaptation and renewal especial!y with regard to its methods of evangelization and of Chris-tian initiation (nos. 13, 14) as well as to its way of living in communities (n~ 3 of the decree, Perfectae caritatis). 13. - § 1. It is necessary that for all missions there be only one competent curial, department; namely, the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith. Since, however, certain missions for special reasons are still subject temporarily to other curial departments, there should be established in these other departments a missionary section that should have close relations with the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith in order that in the organizing and directing of the mis-sions a completely constant and uniform norm can be had (n. 29). § 2. To the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith are subject the Pontifical Missionary Works; namely, the Pontifical Work for the Propagation of the Faith, the Work of St. Peter for native clergy; the Union of the Clergy for the Missions, and the Work of the Holy Childhood. 14. The president of the secretariat for fostering the unity of Christians is by reason of his office a member of the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith while the secretary of the same secretariat is included among the consultors of the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith (n. 29). Similarly, the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith should be represented at the secretariat for fostering the unity of Christians. 15. In the direction of the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith twenty-four representatives take part with a deliberative vote unless in individual cases the supreme pontiff should decide otherwise; namely, twelve prelates from the missions and four, from other regions, four from superiors of institutes, four from the Pontifical Works; all of these shonld meet twice a year. Members of this board are appointed for five years with almost a fifth part being changed every year. When they have finished one term, they can be appointed for an-other five years. In accord with norms to be sent as soon as possible from the Apostolic See, episcopal conferences, institutes, and the Pontifical ~rorks should propose to the supreme pontiff the names of those from whom the supreme pontiff may select the representatives mentioned above as + .+ + Implementation oS Vatican II VOLUME 25, 1966 .967 Paul REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 968 well as the names of those, including persons living on the missions, from,whom consultors can be selected. 16. Representatives of religious institutes on the mis-sions and of regional works for the missions as well as of councils of laymen have a part in the meetings of this congregation with consultive vote (n. 29). 17. After consulting the episcopal conferences and mis-sionary institutes, the Sacred Congregation for the Propa-gation of ,the Faith should delineate .as soon as possible the general principles according to which agreements should be made between local ordinaries and mission in-stitutes with regard to" the regulation of their mutual, re-lationships (n. 32). In making these agreements consideration', should be given both. to the continuance of missionary work andoto the needs of the institutes (n. 32). 18. Because~ it is desirable that episcopal.conferences be joined intooorganic groups along socio-cultural lines, the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Fi~ith (n. 29) should promote such coordinations of episcopal conferences. " Together with the Sacred Congregation for.the Propa-gation of the Faith, the work of these conferences~ will be the following: 1°. To seek ways, including new ones, in which by joint effort- the faithful and the missionary institutes may insert themselves into the peoples and groups among whom they live or to whom they are sent (nos. 10, 11) and :with whom they should conduct a dialogue of salvation. 2°. To establish study groups who should investigate peoples' ways of thinking about the universe, about man, and about man's interior attitude toward God and who should subsume for theological consideration'whatever is good or true. Such theological study should furnish the necessary foundation :for making adaptations, the consideration ~of which should also be a duty of the aforementioned study groups. Among other 'matters these adaptations should be concerned with. methods of ~vangelizing, liturgical forms, religious life, arid ecclesiastical legislation (n. 19). As far as methods of evangelization and of catechesis ~a~e concerned, the Sacred Congregation for the Propaga-tion of the Faith should promote close cooperation with advanced-level pastoral institutes. As far as liturgical forms are concerned, the study groups should send documents and opinions, to the Com-mittee for the Implementation of The Constitution on the Liturgy. ~As far as the religious ~state is concerned (n. 18), care should be taken that external form (exemplified by ex- ternal appearances, clothing, arts, and so forth) not be given more attention than the religious characteristics of peoples which should be assumed or assimilated to evan-gelical perfection. 3°. To promote at determined times meetings of those teaching in seminaries in order, after consultation with the study groups already mentioned, to adapt courses of study and to mutually exchange information so that better attention be directed to today's needs in the matter of priestly training (n. 16). 4°. To examine the best way in which manpower (priests, catechists, institutes, and so forth) can be dis-tributed in the territory and especially the way in which care can be taken of the scarcity of manpower in places that are highly populated. 19. In distributing resources a suitable part should be reserved each year for the formation and sustenance of the local clergy, the missionaries, the catechists, and the study groups mentioned in number 18. Bishops should send reports about these matters to the Sacred Congrega-tion for the Propagation of the Faith (nos. 17, 29). 20. A pastoral council should be duly established; its work will be, in accord with number 27 of the decree, Christus Dominus, "to investigate, appraise, and draw practical conclusions about matters pertaining to pastoral works," to do its share in preparing the diocesan synod, and to take care of the execution of the statutes of the synod (n. 30). 91. On the missions there should be established con-ferences of religious men and unions of religious women in which the major superiors of all institutes of the same nation or region should take part and by which their undertakings may be coordinated (n. 33). 22. According to possibilities and needs scientific in-stitutes should be multiplied; they should cooperate by common consent in order that the work of investigation and specialization be well organized; and duplication of works of the same nature should be avoided in the same region (n. 34). 23. In order that immigrants from mission countries be duly received and assisted by suitable pastoral care on the part of bishops of countries who have long been Christian, cooperation with missionary bishops is neces-sary (n. 38). 24. With regard to lay persons on the missions: § 1. Urgent emphasis should be put on the following: sincere intention of serving, the missions, maturity, suit-able preparation, professional specialization, and a suffi-ciently long time to be spent on the mission. ÷ 4. 4- Implementation 'Vatican 11 § 2. Consociations of lay persons for the missions should be effectively intercoordinated. § 3. The bishop of the mission locality should be so-licitous [or such lay persons. § 4. The social security of such lay persons should be safeguarded (n. 41). ,÷ ÷ Paul Vi REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 97~ THOMAS BARROSSE, C.S.C. Religious Community and the Primitive Chul'ch In the opening chapters of the Acts of the Apostles St. Luke describes how the Church began her life. The Spirit came. The Apostles preached. The gospel was believed. The believers were baptized, and the Church had come into existence. At the end of Chapter 2, Luke furnishes a vignette of life in the primitive Christian community. In Chapters 3 and 4 he introduces the threat of persecution and opposition. Then, once more, at the end of Chapter 4, he provides a sketch of life in the earliest Church. These pictures presented in Acts 2 and 4 are somewhat idealized. In Chapters 5 and 6, he will. quite frankly fill the shadows in: the deceit of Ananias and Sapphira and the grumbling of the Diaspora Jewish Christians against their Palestinian fellow believers. But he wishes first to present the life of the primitive community in its best light so that the memory of the earliest Apostolic Chureh can haunt his Christian readers down through thd years as a model they will want to emulate. ~ The casual, or even the careful, present-day reader of the Gospels of Mark and Luke might form for himself a rather individualistic conception of the ideal Christian: a person who believes (for "he who believes and is baptized will be saved"--Mk 16:16), who loves (for to the questioia, "What must I do to possess eternal life?" thd answer' is, "You must love the Lord your God. and your neighbor --Lk 10:25-7), who is completely detached (for "he who does not renounce all that he possesses cannot be my dis-ciple"-- Lk 14:33), who remains faithful through tribula-tion (for "he who perseveres to the end will be saved"m Mk 13:13). This conception is false, of course, and the Book of Acts, which shows how what the Lord Jesus pre-pared by His ministry and effected by His sufferings and Thomas Barrosse, C.S.C., is on the staff of the general-ate of the Congre-gation of the Holy Cross; Via Aurelia Antica, 391; Rome, Italy. VOLUME 25, 1"966 " ÷ + ÷ Tho~mas Barrosse, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS glory actually came to be, makes it very clear that the work of Christ was the creation of a communily of faith, of love, and of hope in the midst of tribulations. Here is the picture Luke paints in Chapter 2 (vv. 41-5): "Those who received [Peter's] word [with faith] were bap-tized"-- a community constituted by faith and baptism. "They were persevering in the teaching of the Apostles" --a community that maintained itself in existence by nourishing its faith. But also a community of love--for "they were persevering., in the common life--hoin6n[a --[which manifested itself in] the breaking of the bread [--the common, eucharistic meal--] and the [common] prayers" but which manifested itself too in their sharing of material goods since "the believers., considered all things common and were selling their property and be-longings and dividing up the proceeds among all accord-ing as anyone had need." Their love was not restricted to the group: they were an open community since "they were persevering daily in the temple., and enjoying favor with all the people." This same picture recurs in Chapter 4 (vv. 32-5): "The whole multitude of believers were one heart and one soul, and no one said any of his belongings were his own, but all things were common for them . " The shadow of the cross, which already falls across the community in Chapter 4 when Peter and John are ar-rested and threatened, gradually crystallizes into a princi-ple of life. It is finally formulated in 14:22 when Paul points out that only "through many tribulations must we come into the kingdom of God." Let us see how much the thought of this ideal Christian community depicted by Luke in Acts influenced the origins of religious life. Students of Christian monasticism (a way of life that would diversify and proliferate into the many forms of religious life which we know today) usually find its be-ginnings in fourth century Christian Egypt. Before that time there existed in the Church both celibates (especially virgins and widows) and "ascetics" (literally, "exercisers" or "practicers"). The celibates felt that it was given to them to forego married life for the sake of the kingdom of heaven (Mr 19:11 f.) or that they had the gift of re-maining unmarried to give undivided attention to the Lord (1 Cot 7:7 and 32-5). The ascetics applied certain New Testament passages--like Jesus' advice to the rich young man to sell all his belongings if he wanted to be perfect (Mr 19:21)--quite literally to themselves in their attempts to live a full Christian life. But the Christian ideal--or the ideal Christian--was the martyr. The martyr was the believer who by his total self-re-nunciation showed his perfect love--and even the celi- bates and ascetics hoped and prayed for the great favor of undergoing martyrdomA Clement of Alexandria in the third century could echo Ignatius of Antioch and Polycarp of Smyrna in the second in saying: "We call martyrdom perfection (telei6sis) not because the man has reached the end (telos) of his life, as others do, but be-cause he has displayed the perfect (tdleios) work of love." e For this reason, it was the martyr who was considered the Christian most resembling Christ and the Apostles. "The Lord," says Clement of Alexandria again, "was the first to drink the cup . In imitation of him, the Apostles as. perfect men suffered for the churches which they founded." 3 Even before, but especially after, the age of martyrs ended, the Church fathers tried to show that other ideal Christians could be found. They pointed out how espe-cially the celibates and the ascetics were, like the martyrs, "athletes" or "soldiers" of Christ who showed their per-fect faith and love by their perfect self-renunciation. If martyrdom might be called a second baptism, so might profession of the celibate or ascetical life.4 In fourth century Egypt St. Anthony turned the private initiative of scattered ascetics into an organized mass movement. Undertaking the life of an ascetic, he learned this virtuous and prayerful way of life from other Christians who lived it more or less in retirement. He came to appreciate from them how he might more literally put the various suggestions and injunctions of the New Testament into practice in his own life. Then after twenty years of solitude and struggle for mastery over himself, he became, at their request, the teacher of large numbers who were stirred by his example. His contemporary and acquaintance, St. Athanasius, in Chap-ter 1 of his Li~e o~ Anthony describes how the Lord "gave Anthony grace in speech so that., he induced many to choose the solitary life." The biographer con-tinues: "From that time there have been monasteries [that is, hermitages] even in the mountains, and the desert was made a city by monks . " ~ Anthony's dis-course on the ascetic life in Chapters 16 to ~ of this work has even been called the first rule of life for monks. x See St. Athanasius, Life of Anthony, Chapters 46 and ~t7, in Early Christian Biographies, trans. Sister Mary Emily Keenan (New York: Fathers of the Church, 1952), pp. 177-8. a Stromata 4, 4 (translated and commented by E. Malone, The Monk and the Martyr [Washingtou: Catholic University, 1950], p. 5). Religious ~ Stromata 4, 9 (translated [and here slightly adapted] in E. Ma- Community lone, The Monk and the Martyr, p. 6). * Malot~e, The Monk and the Martyr, Chapters Three to Six. ~Athanasius, Life o[ Anthony, in Keenan, Early Christian Biog-raphies, p. 149. VOLUME 25, 1966 973 ÷ ÷ Thomas Barrosse, C,.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 97,1 At times these "monks" (that is, "solitaries") lived two or more together.~ But their association remained limited and voluntary. They were basically hermits (that is, "des-ert"- dwellers) or anchorites (that is, people in "retire-ment"). This sort of life in modified form has continued on in the Church to the present day--in the West among the Carthusians and the Camaldolese, for example, and in communities of semi-solitaries in the East. It won the ad-miration of the' western European writers of the patristic age, and many of them looked upon it as a higher life than the one to which we now turn. While Anthony lived in northern Egypt, another as-cetic, Pachomius, was organizing the ascetical life on another pattern to the south. After some training in the life under another, older man, he began to gather dis-ciples and train them. He organized them into a com-munity-- koin6nla--the very word that Luke uses in Acts 2:42 to describe the "common life" of the primitive Church. He composed a detailed rule for these cenobites (that is, men with a "common life"). Theodore, close disciple and successor of Pachomius, presents it as a "model for whoever desires to bring souls together ac-cording to God in order that they may become perfect." 7 We must not think of it merely as a practical measure to train fervent individuals. If we read on in Pachomius' life, we find that he worked gradually to dispose his disciples "to bind themselves to one another in perfect community after the manner of what stands written in Acts of the believers: 'They were a single heart and a single soul, and all goods belonged to them in common; there was no one who said of what belonged to him, "It is mine.' . s In addition, they referred to one another as "brothers," the term the Book of Acts and the New Testament epistles use to designate the relationship of early Christians to one another. One of his early lives even describes a visit of Pachomius' disciples to Anthony after their master's death, in which the latter declares "that he gathered souls around him in order to offer them pure to the Lord is a fact which shows that he is su-perior to us and that the way he followed is the Apostle's way, that is, the koin6nia" 9 When Pachomius~ disciples press Anthony with the question: "If the common life . is the higher way of the Apostles, then why did you not live in community.?" the anchorite answers that elbid., Chapters 11 and 91, in Keenan, Early Christian Biogra-phies, pp. 145 and 213. * L. Lefort (ed.), Les vies coptes de saint Pachdme (Louvain: Mu-s~ on, 1943), pp. 60-1. s Ibid., p. 276. 0 Ibid., pp. 3 and 65. he had no choice when he became a monk: there were no communities to join.1° This idea that the common life was, in its original inspiration, an attempt to create an ideal Christian com-munity on the pattern of the primitive Church of Acts 2 and 4 recurs frequently and emphatically in the teach-ing of Pachomius' successors. Theodore, for example, says: "It is by a favor of God. that the holy koin6nla ap-peared on earth., by which he made the Apostolic life known to men desirous of modeling themselves after the Apostles . ,, n The idea is found decades later even among the anchorites of the north. When John Cassian, who clearly regarded the eremitical life as superior to the cenobitic, visited the monks of northern Egypt, them-selves anchorites, he learned their conviction that the cenobitic way of life was the Apostles' own foundation! He cites one of the anchorites he interviewed: The system of Cenobites took its rise in the days of the preaching of the Apostles. For such was all that multitude of believers in Jerusalem which is thus described in the Acts of the Apostles--[he then cites Acts 4:32-5 and 2:45]. The whole Church, I say, was then such as now are those few who can be found with difficulty in coenobia. But when at the death of the Apostles the multitude of believers began to wax cold . those who still maintained the fervour of the apostles, mindful of that former perfection, left their cities and intercourse with those who thought that carelessness and a laxer life was per-missible to themselves and the Church of God, and began to live in rural and more seqnestered spots, and there, in private and on their own account, to practise those things wlfich they had learnt to h~ve been ordered by the apostles throughout the whole body of the Church in general . He goes on to explain how they are called "monks" (that is, "solitaries") because of their retirement and "cenobites" because of their community life. He con-cludes: That then alone was the earliest kind of monks, which is first not only in time but also in grace, and which continued un-broken for a very long period up to the time of Abbot Paul and Anthony; and even to this day we see its traces remaining in strict coenobia. The anchorites, he says, began only with Paul the Hermit and Anthony, who were the "flowers and fruit" of the common life.~2 The monastic life, especially in its Antonian form, spread over Palestine and Syria. After the mid-fourth 10 Ibid., pp. 268 and 323. n H. Bacht, "Pakh6me et ses disciples," in Thdologie de la vie mo1n.aos tCiqoune f(ePraernics:e A18u,b Ciehr,a 1p9te6r1 5), (ptr.a 6n7s.lated by E. Gibson in .4 Select Library o[ Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2od series, v. 11 [New York: Christian Literature Company, 1894; reprinted Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1955], pp. 480-1. . ¯ ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Communit~ VOLUME 25, 1966 975 ÷ Thomas, BarrCo.sSs.eC, . ~EVIEW FO~ ~ELIGIOU$ 976 century it existed in Cappadocia (what is today south central Turkey) in a form that in many ways strikingly resembles the Pachomian pattern but quite ~possibly without any dependence on Egypt. It found an important organizer and legislator in St. Basil the Great. Cappadocian monasticism was exclusively cenobitic, and Basil's Longer Rules tell us why.13 These rules, more a commentary on monastic life and usages than a set of regulations, .begin (Preface) with the question "Why have we come together?" The answer is: "To live the devout life'S---or "To do what God wants." What he wants, he himself tells us(qq. 1-3): "You must love the Lord your God with your whole heart., and your neighbor." Basil goes on to explain the life of monks as an attempt to prac-tice this love. He emphasizes the need of some degree of retirement from possible distractions and the desirability of association with. like-minded companions (qq. 6-7), but he explicitly rejects a solitary life because the love Christ taught us does not permit each p.erson to look simply after his own. concerns while the solitary life, he says, does just this (q. 7). He buttresses his argument on the need for community by numerous New Testament citations on fraternal charity and union as the distinctive marks of those who are one with Christ. He climaxes his remarks by pointing out that life in community preserves what was "characteristic of the saints, of whom it is recorded in the Book of Acts: 'And all they that be-lieved were together and had all things common,' and again: 'And the multitude of believers had one heart and one soul; neither did anyone say that aught of (he things which he possessed was his own, but all things were com-mon tinto them' " (q. 7).14 So important does Basil consider this' union that he will not permit more than one community-one "fra-ternity" or "brotherhood," ag he prefers to say--in any one town (q. 35). Once more, his climactic argument against division into several communities is the 'ideal picture of the close-knit primitive Church sketched in Acts 2 and 4, to which he joins Paul's description of the Church in Ephesians 4. The Basilian community is not so close-knit as to be cl6sed in on itself. If the Egyptian hermits and communi-ties worked not only to support themselves b~t also to be able to give alms?5 the Cappadocian fraternities ran hospices for the sick and the poor, orphanages, and ~Translated in Saint Basil, Ascetical Works, trans. Sister M. Monica Wagner (New York: Fathers of the Church, 1950), pp. 223- 37. 1~ Ibid., p. 252. ~Athanasius, Life of Anthony, Chapter 43, in Keenan, Early Christian Biographies, pp. 174-5. schools, and considered work for the community or for the outsiders more important than austerities.1° They were in a sense "the nucleus and the elite of the 'parish,' and [their] liturgy seems [to have been] identical with that of the local church, but with this difference that the ordinary Christians did not participate in it except to only a quite limited extent." 17 In the Africa that lay west of Egypt the ascetical lif9 was also known. St. Augustine's name is associated with its organization not only because he was among the firs~ bishops to have his clergy live a monastic life with him but because of the letter (n, 211) in which he prescribes observances for a community of women in his diocese and which seems to be the source of the Rule of St. Augustine. In all his efforts to organize monastic li'fe, lie looked to forming an ideal Christian community after the pat7 tern of the primitive Church of Acts 2 and 4. The com-munity of lay monks that he organized shortly after his conversion had as its model, his early biographer Pos-sidius tells us, the "common life" (societas) lived "under the holy Apostles" in Acts. The monastic organi~zation of his clergy in the bishop's house at Hippo had as its purpose, Augustine himself explains, "that, as far as we can, we may imitate the saints of whom the book of the Acts of the Apostles speaks," and he quotes Acts 4.is In his letter to the community of women mentioned above, he begins: "This is what we prescribe that you observe in the monastery in which you live. In the first place, since this is the reason for your coming together, you must live in unity in the house, and you must have a single soul and a single heart turned toward God. You must not speak among yourselves of personal goods, but rather have all things in common." 10 He continues: "It is thus that you read in the Acts of the Apostles that 'all things were common unto them, and distribution was made to everyone according as he had need.' "20 These texts of Acts depicting the life of the primitive Church haunted Augustine.21 He returns to them no less than fifty-three times in his different works. An examina- 18 C. Butler, Benedictine Monachism (2nd ed.; London: Longmans, 1924), pp. 16-7; J. Gribomont, "Saint Basile," in Thdologie de la vie monastique, p. 113. x7 p. Salmon, The Breviary through the Centuries (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1962), pp. 130-1, footnote 4. xs For citations and references see M. Verheijen, "Saint Augustin," in Thdologie de la vie monastique, pp. 201-2~ a9 Ibid., pp. 203-4. ~See the entire letter in Saint Augustine, Letters, trans. Sister Wilfrid Parsons, v. 5 (New York: Fathers of the Church, 1956), pp.- 38-51. The passage cited occurs on pp, 41-2. ~ For most of the following statistics and details see Verheijen, "Saint Augustin," pp. 204--12. + + 4- Religious . Community VOLUME 25, 1966 tion of these passages shows that he recognized in this vignette of the early Church a picture of the community of love which Christians on earth should be, made one in Christ by the presence of the Holy Spirit, Himself infinite love--a unity which is at the same time an antici-pation and beginning of the fuller community of love which the Church will be throughout eternity. The life of communities of monks, clerical or lay, and the life of communities of virgins was simply the realization of this ideal by these people in a way not possible for the gen-erality of Christians. Whet/we examine early European monasticism, we dis-cover a heavy Egyptian influence. All over ancient Christian Europe the eremitical life was known and praised. So was the cenobitic. The great organizer of western monasticism concerned himself only with draw-ing up a rule for cenobites. He organized and modified. Up to the time of St. Benedict, Abbot Cuthbert Butler explains, monks, though looked upon as bound, whether by vows or without them, irrevocably to the practice of the monastic life, so that to abandon it was considered an apostasy, still were not tied to a particular monastery or community, but were allowed with little difficulty to pass from one house to another. St Benedict's most special and tangible contribution to the de-velopment of monasticism was the introduction of the vow of stability . [By this means] he put a stop to such liberty of passage from monastery to monastery and incorporated the monk by his profession in the community of his own monastery. St Benedict thus bound the monks of a monastery together into a permanent family, united by bonds that lasted for life.'~ ÷ ÷ 4- Thomas Barrosse, .S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS In examining his Rule the casual reader may feel he finds relatively little beyond Chapter 63 (on the order of the community) about the relations of the monks with one another. Several points, however, deserve attention. It is quite clear that all the "brothers"--that is, all the monks--have a voice in the running of the community. The abbot must submit all important matters for the ad-vice of all the brothers, and in even minor matters he must get the advice of at least the older members of the community (Chapter 3). It is clear too that the common life means not only living in the same monastery and praying and eating together but also having all material goods in common--hence, a really extensive sharing of life. In this context the Rule cites Acts 4 three times over.23 .~o ~B Iunt lCerh,a Bpetenresd 3ic3ti n(we hMeothnearc hmisomn,k psp s. h2o7u-8ld; have anything of their own), 34 (whether all should receive necessities in equal measure), and 55 (on the brothers' clothing and footwear). The Benedictine Rule (Prologue) declares as its pur-pose to establish a "school of the Lord's service"--not, however, in the sense of a place one leaves (for example, for eremitical life) when he has learned what is taught there. It is written (as the Prologue goes on to say) for those who will "persevere in the monastery until death." The expression "school" occurs of the Church itself in Christian literature of the patristic period (for example: the school of Christ as opposed to the schools of the philosophers).~4 It is not at all unlikely that it is meant to designate the monastery simply as a community where the Christian life can be lived progressively bett6rmand, of course, the Christian life is radically altruistic. The original Benedictine community was by no means closed in completely on itself. Chapter 53 of the Rule (on the reception of guests) has made BenediCtine hospi-tality proverbial. The monks', readiness to evangelize the countryside around their monasteries (for example, at Monte Cassino) and to go on foreign missions (for ex~- ample, Augustine and his companions, who went to England at Gregory the Great's behest) as well as to open monastic schools shows that they were disposed to work for the larger Christian community both outside their monasteries and in themY~ In short, in this respect the Benedictine community resembled the Basilian--Bene-dict says (Rule, Chapter 73) he owes much to his eastern predecessor--and even surpass~ed it. We may sum up what we have seen so far. Th~ phe-nomenon we call religious life originated in fourth century Egypt where Anthony and Pachomius gave as-cetics an organized way of life to follow. It assumed two forms: the eremitic or solitary form (Anthony's) ' and the cenobitic or community form (Pachomius'). The latter developed remarkably--perhaps independently of Egypt --in Cappadocia under Basil. It also found a great fifth century African organizer in Augustine and a sixth century European organizer in Benedict. Pachomius, Basil, and Augustine found the model of what they ,d~re trying to create in the idealized sketch of the primitive community of faith and fraternal love which Luke pre-sents in Acts 2 and 4. Though the inspir~ition of this vision is not so evident in B~nedict, his Rule, by its introduction of stability, mdr~ effectively provided for ~ permanent community in which the Christian life could be lived to the full, Now let us ask briefly about the other three.elements which today, with the common life, form the canonical -°4 See La R~gle du Maitre, ed. Adalbert de Vogii~, v. 1 (Paris: Cerf, 1964), pp. 115-6. = Butler, Benedictine Mona~hism, pp. 389-90, nuances this state-ment. Religious ~ommunity VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ Thomas Barrosse, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 980 minimum for the religious state: poverty, chastity, and obedience. How were they viewed by the great organizers? It has been customary for centuries to look upon these three--religious poverty, celibacy, and obedience--as an asceticism meant to counter the obstacles to love, in which, of course, the perfection .of the Christian life consists,zn Today, when it has become the style to dis-parage asceticism, this conception has lost appeal. We must recognize quite frankly, however, that in the early centuries of organized monastic life celibacy and poverty and obedience were repeatedly presented as an asceticism --that is, as a tangible expression of that readiness to leave all for Christ which we can call detachment and which is the necessary condition for love. But--what is of more importance for us at the moment--they were also looked upon as being in themselves expressions of love and means to create the ideal Christian community. The case of poverty is clearest. It is true that we can find numerous passages in the sources we have been con-sidering in which the abandonment of material posses-sions appears as a renunciation--a giving up--of material goods. It appears as a means to cast off "anxiety for the morrow" (Mt 6:24). It is presented as getting rid of one's goods preliminary to the following of Christ (Mt 19:21). But even in the case of the anchorites--for example, Anthony himself--disposing of one's goods usually takes the form of selling them to give the proceeds to the poor in accord with Jesus' counsel to the rich young man (Mr 19:21).27 Even more, after the initial renunciation, the cenobite's possession of anything as his own is r~gularly exchtded by our sources as being opposed to a truly common life. Citations from Acts 2 and 4 freque.ntly serve to exclttde private possessions precisely as infidelity to full community of life. Many of the passages examined above will illustrate this if they are reexamined. Let us, instead, examine one other. St Augustine in his treatise on the Work of Monks indicates both renunciation and community as involved in monastic poverty.~s First, renunciation. He writes: Let us suppose a person is converted to this life from a life of luxury, and that he is afflicted with no physical infirmity.,Are we so incapable of understanding the sweetness of Christ that we do not know how great a swelling of deeply rooted pride is healed when, after the removal of the superfluities with ~See John Cassian, Conference 1, Chapter 6 (in Gibson, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd series, v. I1, p. 297); Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae 2-2, q.186, a.7. ~rAthanasius, LiIe o] Anthony, Chapters 2 and 3, in Keenan, Early Christian Biographies, pp. 135-6. ~ Chapter 25, translated in Saint Augustine, Treatises on Various Subjects, trans. Sister Mary Sarah Muldowney (New York: Fathers of the Church, 1952), p. 377. which his spirit was fatally possessed, the humility of the worker does not refuse to perform lowly labors to obtain the few supplies which remain necessary for this natural life? Secondly, community. He continues: If, however, a person is converted to this life from poverty, let him not consider that he is doing merely what he used to do, if, turning from the love of increasing his own private fortune, however little, and no longer seeking what things are his own but rather those of Jesus' Christ, he has devoted him-self to the charity of common life, intending to live in com-panionship with those who have one heart and one soul in God, so that no one calls anything his own but all things are held in common. Celibacy, of course, was practiced by Christians from the New Testament period itself. The motive St. Paul assigns for it in 1 Cor 7:35 is contemplative: to provide "undivided attention to the Lord." The motive Jesus as-signs in Mt 19:12: "for the sake of the kingdom of heaven" (which means "for the sake of the reign of God") can be considered apostolic: that is, celibacy to devote oneself wholly to the spread of God's reign by the preach-ing of the gospel. After all, injunctions to go out to pro-claim the kingdom without delaying even to bury one's father or to take leave of one's relatives occur in the Gospel (Lk 9:57-62; see Mt 8:19-22). Among the Pachomians, Theodore says: "Let us pre-serve the gift [a reference perhaps to the 'gift' of celibacy mentioned in 1 Cor 7:7 or possibly Mt 19:11] which has come to us beyond the deserts of our efforts. Let. us preserve the law [of the koin6nla], each one of us being a subject of edification for his neighbor." And a recent commentator remarks: The edification of one's neighbor--which means, immedi-ately, of one's brothers--is an essential element of the law on which the koin6nla rests. The realization of this law can-not be attained except when the bonds of purely natural love 'according to the flesh' have been broken and all the brothers bound together in a spiritual love. From this source come repeated regulations prescribing separation from one's family and controlling relations witl~ those who are related by blood.-~ Basil too--one more text will have to suffice--sees the renunciation of one's own family--and even more of a family of orie's own--aS a means to be "brother" equally to all members of the brotherhood. He writes: ÷ Superiors should not allow those who have been perma- ÷ nently admitted to the community to be distracted in any + way--by allowing them either to leave the company of their brethren and live in private on the pretext of visiting their Religious relatives or to be burdened with the responsibility of caring Community for their relatives according to the flesh. The Scripture abso-lutely forbids the words "mine" and "thine" to be uttered ~ Bacht, "Pakh6me,'" pp. 67-8. VOLUME 25, 1966 among the. brethren, saying: "And the multitude of believers had but one heart and ~ne soul; neither did anyone say that aught of the things which he possessed was his own." The par-ents or brothers of a membe; of the community, therefore, if they live piously should be treated by all the brethren as fathers or other relatives possessed in common: "For whosoever shall do the will of my Fathe~ that is in Heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother," says the Lord. In our opinion, moveover, the care of these persons would devolve upon the superiOr of the community.so + + + Thomas Barrosse, C.S.C. REVIEWFOR RELIGIOUS We may find this position somewhat extreme by our standards. The basic understanding of celibacy is what makes the text important to us at the moment, and that basic understanding is clear: the. foregoing of family re-lationships is .the means to effect a more perfect com-munity of life with a larger number of fervent Ghristians. Obedience is more difficult. The anchorite placed him-self under a master or teacher to be trained in overcoming self-will but especially to be educated to the ascetical life. Obedience was an asceticism or a disciple-master re-lationship. The' arrangement was voluntary. The leader-ship of communities was Charismatic: Pachomius' virtue explains the following he had, and after his death his community almost disintegrated more than once until his disciples could agree that the successor was equipped to guide them as Pachomius had been. For Basil, the role of the superior (or the superiors--since there can be several in one "brotherhood"---qq. 26 f.) is to direct and guide the individual "in everything." So too in Augustine (Letter 211). The superior, in short, appears as a sort of rnagister. 'Before thee introduction of stability, the monk could move to another community if he was not satisfied with the gu, idance he was given. When the community became fixed and the superior-ship more institutional, the situation changed somewhat. It~must be admitted that superiors were elected--presum-ably for their leadership qualities. But if the choice was limited to members of the community or other considera-tions Anfluenced the voting, obedience might possibly place a monk under a poor master, and remaining in-definitely under his authority would then be nothing more than ~an indefinitely prolonged asceticism. But perhaps we have missed an important aspect of the superior's role more implied than explicitly stated in our sources--that is, the position of the superior as the center of unity for the community. From the end of the very first Christian century we have a heavy emphasis on the head of the local Christian community, the bishop, as the foctts of the Church's unity, This seems to be the so Question 32, translated by Wagner in St. Basil, Ascetical Wor. ks, p. 295. meaning of Ignatius of Antioch's axiom: "Where the bishop is, there is the church." 81 We must reflect for a moment on this third and perhaps principal dimension of authority as a necessity for any and all community and of obedience as being first and directly the insertion of oneself into a community---or gift of oneself to a communitywand only secondarily and consequently the placing of oneself under a su-perior's authority. The extent of any superior's au-thority is determined by the nature of the community in which it is exercised. If the authority of superiors is so extensive in religious life, it is precisely because the gift we make of ourselves to the community is so extensive: we undertake the sharing of practically the whole of our lives with others--prayer, work, responsibilities, material goods, and so forth. How the authority is exercised--for example, by frequent peremptory commands or by dis-cussions in which a superior usually agrees with the con-sensus reached--is quite incidental to this aspect of re-ligious obedience (though it is less so, of course, to obedience as an asceticism). It might be pointed out parenthetically, however, that the way in which the highest (episcopal) authority was actually exercised in the patristic Church and the way Basil and Benedict speak of superiors exercising their attthority suggests a procedure closer to the second than to the first of these two extremes,a2 Looking ttpon obedience as being sub-stantially the gift of oneself to a community means look-ing upon it in a very ancient and traditional way and perceiving it as an influence over the individual religious in his whole community life, even when the superior actually intervenes only rarely. We have been all too brief in our consideration of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. But perhaps we have 21 See V. Corwin, St. Ignatius and Christianity in Antioch (New Haven: Yale, 1960), pp. 80-7, 192-8, 214, and 256-7. Ignatius phrases it slightly differently in his letter to the Smyrneans 8, 2. Why else is nothing to be done "apart from" the bishop and only that Eu-charist is to be considered valid over which he presides or someone named by him (Ad Smyrn. 8, 1)? He is certainly not thinking of a "power of orders" to confect sacraments or of a "power of jurisdic-tion" if we are to judge from the main thrust of his arguments. There is no church apart from the bishop because he is its "center of unity," to use the phrase Vatican II applies to him in its Decree on the Missionary Activity o~ the Church, n. 30 (just after urging all missionary workers to have but one heart and one soul in accord with Acts 4:32). Interestingly, the Rule of Taiz~ (Taiz~: Presses de Taiz~, 1965), p. 55, opens its treatment of the prior (which is its treatment of obedience) with a brief paragraph on the need for nnity; then it explains: "The prior focuses the u6ity of the commu-nity." ~See Y. Congar, "The Hierarchy as Service," in his Power and Poverty. in the Church (London: Chapman, 1964), pp. 15-79, espe-cially from p. 40 on. + ÷ ÷ Religi~s Community 98-3 ÷ ÷ ÷ Thomas Ba~rosse, C.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 984 spent enough time on them to show that all the essential elements of canonical "religious life as we know it in the Church today can be conceived of just as the cenobitic life as a whole was at its origins: as part of the attempt to create an ideal Christian community on the model of that idyllic picture of the primitive Apostolic Church which St. Luke presents in the opening chapters of Acts. That the apostolates of the active communities can be fitted into this picture too should be clear from what we have seen of the openness to the needs of the Church of their times exhibited by the Basilian, Augustinian, and Benedictine communities. To show that this concept has not been lost between the origins and our own day, let us conclude with two texts. The Pontificale Romanum, dating substantially from the Middle Ages, contains a ceremony for the profession of an abbot--to be used before he is blessed in case a novice or someone not a member of the order in question should be elected. At the end of the Ceremony, the pre-siding bishop gives a short explanation of what he has done in accepting the profession: Although all of us through th~ grace of baptism are brothers in Christ and have one Father in heaven if, to the best of our ability, we do what he commands, without any doubt we are most closely united when we join ourselves to one another in ~common] prayer and mutual service just as we read the holy tathers in the primitive Church, who had but one heart anal one soul, did. Many of them, their hearts inflamed with the love of Christ, sold their posSessions and material belongings, gathered the proceeds together, and brought them in joy (o t~e Apostles. The Apostles took these proceeds and distributed them to all in accord with the needs of each. So it is that this man [newly professed], under God's inspiration and encouraged by their example, desires to be joined to the community of the religious of [this order]. We grant him

Issue 19.3 of the Review for Religious, 1960. ; Councils in Lay Institutes Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. THE LAW of the code and especially that of the constitutions confers an important role on the councils in religious institutes. Almost all constitutions describe thoroughly the duties of tho general council but are unsatisfactory in their treatment ~f the provincial and local councils. This article is an effort to explain simultaneously"th~ principles that govern all councils in lay in-stitutes. The more common name for this office in such institutes is councilor; but many others are found, e.g., assistants, discreets, and consultors. 1. Necessity of councilors (c. 516, § 1). This canon obliges-all superiors general, presidents of federations and confederations, provincial and local superiors at least of formal houses to have councilors. A formal house in a lay institute is one in which at least six professed religious reside (c. 488, 5°). The canon recom-mends that superiors also of smaller houses have councilors. From analogy of law and the enactment of the particular constitutions, superiors of vice-provinces, quasi-provinces, regions, vicariates, missions, and districts should also have councilors.~ The canon does not specify the number of the councilors. From the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions, there are four general councilors, although a few lay congregations have a greater numberi four or two provincial councilors; two councilors in a formal house, but a few congregations have a larger number; and more frequently one councilor in a smaller house. Monasteries of nuns ordinarily have four councilors. Federations and confederations of nuns have four or six councilors, and regions within such a confederation have two. ~ 2. Manner of designation and requisite qualities of councilors. The general councilors of a congregation and the councilors of a con-federation, federation, region, or monastery of nuns are elected in the respective chapters. The provincial councilors of a congregation are appointed by the superior general with the consent of his council, but in a small number of congregations they are elected in the provincial chapter. Local councilors are appointed by the ILarraona, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 9 (1928), 418. 129 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious superior general or, if the institute is divided into provinces, ordin-arily by the provincial, with the consent of the respective council. The constitutions sometimes enact that this provincial appoint-ment is to be confirmed by the superior general with the delibera-tive vote of his council. The quality universally demanded by constitutions for all ex-cept local councilors is that they be professed of perpetual vows. The age usually required for general councilors of a congregation and those of a confederation, federation, or region of nuns is thirty-five complete years; thirty years is the more frequent norm in monasteries of nuns; and thirty or thirty-five years are often prescribed for provincial councilors. The constitutions rarely enact a determined age for local councilors, and very many do not affirm that perpetual vows are necessary. A few make it clear that perpetual profession is not an absolute requisite by stating that the local councilors are, if possible, to be professed of perpetual vows or that such vows are required at least for the first local councilor. It is incongruous that a religious still in the state of probation and formation should be the councilor of a house. 3. Residence. According to the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions, all the general councilors should reside with the superior general; but two of them, with the exception of the as-sistant general, may live elsewhere for a just reason, e. g., because of their other work. These must be stationed in houses from which they can .be readily summoned and can attend the meetings. The evident purpose of the practice is that the superior general may have no difficulty in consulting his councilors. Many constitutions contain no prescriptions on the residence of the provincial counci- .lots. At least the assistant provincial and the provincial secretary should reside with the provincial. Some constitutions have the same practice for a provincial council of four members as that described above for the general council. If there are only two provincial councilors, the constitutions frequently state that both or at least one of the councilors must reside with the provincial. The councilors of a confederation, federation, or region of nuns reside in their respective monasteries. 4. Incompatible duties. The general principle of the practice of the Holy See forbids a general councilor to be assigned any employment that would prevent the proper fulfillment of the duties of a coun-cilor. The present practice forbids in particular merely that the first general counc.il0r be bursar or secretary general. The former practice forbade any general councilor to be bursar general, and 130 May, 1960 COUNCILS IN LAY INSTITUTES the Normae of 1901 extended the prohibition to the master of novices (nn. 285, 300). Some constitut!ops~ ~ave the same pro-hibition with regard to the offices of provincial or local superior, any bursar, local councilor, and master of junior professed. A provincial will rarely in fact be a general councilor; but, outside of the case of the assistant general, it is difficult to see how the offices listed above are necessarily incompatible with that of general councilor. A general councilor is very frequently the local superior of the generalate. The judgment of the incompatibility is to be made on facts, i. e., the amount of work in each of the offices and the ease or difficulty with which the other office would permit the religions to be summoned and to attend the ordinary and extraordinary sessions of the general council. Few constitutions mention incompatible duties with regard to the provincial coun- .cilors, but some forbid the uniting of this office with that of pro-vincial bursar or master of novices. 5. Nature of a council (c. 516, § 1). In the constitutions of pontifical lay congregations, the general council is nsually stated to consist of the superior general and the four general councilors. Other parts of the same constitutions repeat frequently that particular matters requirethe consent or advice of the general council. All such expressions are ambiguons. The superior alone governs the con-gregation, province, or house; the councilors as such have no authority. Canon 516, § 1, makes it clear that a councilor is only an adviser of a superior, not an associate in authority. The superior votes in a council but he is not a member of the council; he is the superior, or sole possessor of authority, who has councilors or advisers. In a general chapter the authority is that of the collective body; the chapter itself and as such possesses the authority. All the members of this chapter are on the same level; all are co-possessors of the same authority and co-authors of the enactments of the chapter. Not the presiding superior general, but the general chapter places an act. A council is not a governing body; it possesses no collective authority. The councilors are not co-authors of an act. It is not the council but the superior who places an act, with the consent or advice of his council. It is possible for a particular canon or law of the constitutions to prescribe that the council is to act in the same manner as the general chapter. This mnst be certainly proved, since the contrary is the general principle of canon law. The only canon of this type that can affect lay religions is canon 650, which treats of the dismis-sal of a male religions of perpetual vows. If the majority of the 131 JOSEPH F. CrALLEN Review for Religious council vote for dismissal, it is probable that the superior general must issue the decree of dismissal in a pontifical congregation or forward the matter to the local ordinary in the case of a diocesan congregation. Therefore, the act in this case would be of the general council, not of the superior general. However, this sense is only probable; and it is at least equally probable that the wording of the canon is merely another way of expressing the deliberative vote of the council. Consequently, since it is not certain that canon 650 is an exception, this case also would in fact be handled in the same way as that described above (cf. also n. 16). These same principles apply not only to the councils but also to chapters of monasteries of nuns in the cases for which law demands that the superioress secure the consent or advice of the chapter (cc. 534, § 1; 543; 575, § 2; 646, § 2).2 6. Duties of councilors (c. 516, § 1). The primary duty of the councilors is to cast a deliberative or consultive vote when these are demanded by canon law or the constitutions. When asked to do so by the superior, they are to express their opinions with all freedom, courage, respect, sincerity, and truth (c. 105, 3°). They are likewise to bring to the attention of the superior whatever they sincerely consider to be to the good or detriment of the institute, province, or house. The superior, not the councilors, decides the matters that are to be treated in the council, as is clear from the principle stated in number 5. Councils were introduced to prevent what could degenerate into arbitrary government on the part of the superior. An equally evident purpose was to satisfy the need that all, and perhaps especially those in authority, have of securing advice and obtaining information. In an age that emphasizes ren-ovation and adaptation, the councilors should also be the principal source of progressive ideas to the superior. 7. Obligation of secrecy. According to the practice of the Holy See, an article of the constitutions states that the general councilors must observe secrecy concerning all matters confided to them as councilors in or outside the sessions.3 Another article is usually included that extends this same obligation to all others who have attended any session of the general council. A secret is the know-ledge of something that at least ordinarily should not be revealed. ~Cf. Vromant, D~ Bonis Ecclesiae Temporalibus, n. 39; Vermeersch, Per-iodica, 15 (1927), (61)-(63); Goyeneche, Quaestiones Canonicae, I, 183-89; Michiels, Principia Generalia de Personis in Ecclesia, 494-95; Larraona, Commentariurn Pro Religiosis, 6 (1925), 429-30; Bender, Norrnae Generales de Personis, nn. 376-77,1; Jone, Comrnentarium in Codicem Juris Canonici, I, 121. ~Normae of 1901, n. 280. 132 May, 1960 COUNCIL~ IN LAY INSTITUTES A natural secret arises from the very matter of such knowledge, since its revelation would cause injury or at least sorrow and displeasure to another. A promised secret has its source in a prom-ise, made after the matter was known, not to reveal the matter, whether or not this matter of itself demands secrecy. The confided or entrusted .secret arises from an agreement, given and accepted before any disclosure, that the matter will not be revealed. The agreement may be explicit or implicit. The latter is true of all who possess a confidential office, e. g., doctors, lawyers, priests consulted outside of confession on things appertaining to their ministry, religious superiors, novice masters, councilors, etc. There are degrees in the confided secret. The lowest is the revelation made to a private individual from mere friendship. The next is the revelation to a private individual to secure counsel. The third and highest is the official secret, i. e., a revelation made to a person possessing a confidential office, such as those listed above, and made to him because of this office or learned in the practice of the office. Matters confided to all councilors thus constitute official secrets and are often also natural secrets. Even the official secret may be revealed to prevent a serious injury to the institute, province, or house, or to any individual. The councilors may also reveal such matters to a prudent and learned or experienced person for the purpose of consultation, e. g., to a confessor, a priest skilled in a subject such as canon law or moral theology, or to another prudent and experienced religious. In seeking counsel, the identity of the person concerned is always to be concealed as far as possible. Even if the matter becomes public, the councilors may not reveal what occurred in the council with regard to it, e. g., the opinions or votes given by individual councilors. They are to acquiesce, at least externally, in the judgment of the majority and in the action taken by the superior. This is necessary for the efficient functioning of the council and for effective and peaceful govern-ment. They are not to imply or hint to others that they disagreed with a decision made in council. This is a shirking of the responsi-bilities of an office. The article inserted in constitutions by the Holy See adds that a general councilor who violates this obligation of secrecy is to be seriously admonished by the superior general. If he does this repeatedly, he is to be given a severe admonition and a penance. A violation of secrecy is not in itself a sufficient reason for de-position from office; but, if the violations are very serious, flagrant, a source of lack of confidence, discord, or scandal in the corn- 133 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious munity, the councilor may be deposed from his office.4 These principles apply to all other councilors. Canon 105, 2°, empowers the superior, if he believes this prudent and demanded by the sbriousness of the matter, to oblige the councilors to take an oath to preserve secrecy on a particular matter. ~. Frequency of sessions. The almost universal practice of the Sacred Congregation in approving constitutions is that an or.dinary session of the general council is to be held every month. The article adds that more frequent sessions are to be convoked when necessary. A very small number of constitutions prescribe less frequent meetings, e. g., every two or three months. It is very difficult to reconcile such infrequent sessions with the obligation of having all the councilors reside in the motherhouse and with the insistence that they be free of all duties incompatible with the office of general councilor. An ordinary session every month is decidedly the pref-erable norm. An extraordinary session should be called by the superior general for any matter of greater moment. He should consult his councilors frequently, since the practice of the Sacred Congregation places marked emphasis on the office of councilor. These principles are true of all other councils. A monthly ordinary session is also the usual norm for the councils of provinces, houses, and monasteries of nuns. 9. Convocation of the council (c. 105, 2°). When either the delibera-tive or consultive vote is required by canon law or the constitutions, canon 105, 2°, commands the superior to convoke ~11 the councilors who can be present.5 He must therefore, sufficiently ahead of time, inform all the councilors of the place, day, and hour of the session. A convocation is not obligatory when the constitutions or customs determine the place, day, and hour of the meetings. Obviously all other sessions that the superior institutes on his own authority must also be convoked. The secretary may and often in fact does convoke the council at the order of the superior. The councilors should at the same time be given a list of the important matters to be discussed, so that they may properly prepare for the meeting. Unprepared sessions are usually both unsatisfactory and unduly prolonged. 10. Number of councilors required. (a) By the code (c. 163). By the code, a superior has the right to act when at least one councilor is present after all have been properly convoked (c. 163). The 4Cf. Vermeersch, De Religiosis, II, n. 121; Battandier, Guide Canonique, n. 466; Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 324. sCf. Vromant, op. cir., n. 40; Jone, op. cir., 120; Michiels, op. cir., 530. 134 May, 1960 COUNCIL~ IN LAY INSTITUTES superior may not act when he alone is present, since there would then be no consent or advice of the council. Therefore, if the constitutions do not demand the presence of a definite number for a session of the council, the superior may act validly and licitly when only he and another councilor are present, The same is true when the president of a session is the assistant or vicar in virtue of a provision of the co~.~titutions or delegation from the superior. It is clear that a session should ordinarily be postponed when only one of four councilors is present. According to the law of the code, the superior has no obligation to substitute other religious for absent councilors. It is not certain: that he may do so licitly or even validly, since the rights of the council devolve after convocation on those~ who are present and these are to be considered juridically as a full council.~ However, because the code does not expressly nor certainly forbid substitu-tion, it is probable that the superior may summon such substitutes. 7 He may use an analogous norm from the code (c. 655, § 1) and select the substitutes with the consent of his council; or he may follow one of the norms of substitution admitted in the practice of the Holy See, explained in (c) below, e. g., by taking the local superior as the first substitute and then, with the consent of his council, selecting the other substitutes from the professed of perpetual vows of the house in which the session is held. (b) By the general law of constitutions. The constitutions of lay congregations very frequently demand the presence of the superior general and two councilors for any session of the general council, and a few require a unanimous vote when only this number is present. Other specifications are also found, e. g., two-thirds of the general council, and three general councilors. The Normae of 1901 (n. 273) seem to suppose that the superior general and at least two councilors are present at any session. These constitutions do not demand that the absent councilors be replaced by substi-tutes, i. e., outside of the matters listed in the following paragraph; and substitution is accordingly regulated by the norms given above. It is not the practice to summon substitutes in such cases. (c) By the law of the constitutions [or appointments and other de-termined matters. Most constitutions of lay congregations, following the Norrnae of 1901 (n. 273), require a full general council for ap- ~Cf. Can. 163; 165; Goyeneche, De Religiosis, 47-48; Quaestiones Can-onicae, I, 26-27; Bastien, op. cir., n. 327; Schaefer, De tteligiosis, n. 586; Pejska, Ius Canonicum Religiosorum, 233. 7Cf. Coronata, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, 658, note 3. 135 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious pointments to offices. A small number extend this to other matters, e. g., admission to the noviceship and first and fihal profession, dismissal of professed religious, matters that require recourse to the Holy See or the local ordinary, and even for all matters that demand a deliberative vote. Full membership is required in such constitu-tions for the liceity, not for the validity, of the superior's action. If all the members of the council are not present, the ap-pointment, if possible, should be postponed. If it cannot be deferred, the substitutes prescribed by the constitutions are to be summoned. The most common norm of substitution is that the local superior is to be called and, if a second substitute is necessary, the superior general, with the consent of the councilors present, is to choose him from the professed of perpetual vows of the house where the session is being held. If the local superior is already a general councilor or cannot attend, a religious of perpetual vows is to be chosen in this same way as first substitute. Many other norms of substitution have been admitted by the Holy See. For example, the second sub-stitute need not be of the house where the session is held; the first substitute is the secretary general, or the secretary or bursar general; the superior general, with the consent of the councilors present, chooses as substitutes religious professed for at least ten years; one or two professed of perpetual vows; and, finally, a pro-fessed of perpetual vows, preferably the bursar general. It is pos-sible to find constitutions that demand a full council for determined matters but do not provide any norm of substitution. In such cases the superior is to summon substitutes according to one of the norms given above (c. 20). Constitutions rarely mention the necessity of the presence of a minimum number of provincial councilors, of a full council for determined matters, or give norms of substitution for this council. Such provisions, when found, follow those described above for the general council. (d) Non-councilors" attending sessions. The constitutions usually state, at least of the superior general, that he may summon religious who are not councilors to sessions of the council to give information or advice but that he is forbidden to grant a vote to anyone who is not a councilor. Any superior has this same right. Those most likely to be called are the bursars, masters of novices and of junior professed, and supervisors of schools, hospitals, and studies. It is evident that no one has a right to vote in a council or to act as a councilor unless he is such by election, appointment, or by a provision of law. Some constitutions contain the strange provision that persons summoned as above "have only a con- 136 COUNCILS IN LAY INSTITUTES sultive vote." The same is more frequently said of the secretary general, e. g., "If the secretdr~y general'is,not a councilor, he has only a consultive vote." All such persons give information or advice only when requested and merely to help the superior and the councilors to form their opinions, and this may be the sense of the constitutions in question. They do not vote nor act as councilors; this appertains only to the superior and the councilors. Further-more, a secretary of a council is not by that fact a councilor nor should he act as such. He is in the same position as any non-councilor who is summoned to a session. Therefore, he has no right to give an opinion in a council unless this is at least implicitly requested by the superior. 11. Common deliberation (c. 105, 2°). The proper and primary canon on the obligatory consent or advice of a council or chapter is canon 105. The literal translation of this canon is that the coun-cilors or capitulars "are to be legitimately convoked and to manifest their opinions" (c. 105, 2°). The evident translation of the sense of this clause is that "they are to be legitimately convoked and to manifest their opinions in a common deliberation." The canon thus commands absolutely that the councilors or capitulars are to express their opinion in a common deliberation. It is therefore difficult to understand the reason for the statements of some authors that canon 105 does not forbid a councilor to vote through a proxy or by letter or that these are forbidden only for a canonical election (c. 163). From the wording of canon 105, 2°, it is illicit, but not certainly invalid, for a superior to secure an obligatory consent or advice outside of a common deliberation, e. g., through a proxy, by letter, or by interrogating the councilors or capitulars individually and separately and securing in this way their oral consent or advice. 8 The obligation of a common deliberation ceases and the consent or advice may be requested separately when the matter is urgent and a common deliberation is impossible or at-tainable only with unusual difficulty. It is possible for an institute to have a privilege from the Holy See permitting an obligatory vote to be asked separately, 8Vromant, op. cit., n. 40; Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome Iuris Canonici, I, n. 229; Wernz-Vidal, Ius Canonicum, II, De Personis, n. 33; III, De Religiosis, n. 155; Coronata, op. cir., n. 154; Ojetti, Comfnenta}'ium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, II, 182-83; Fanfani, De Religiosis, n. 66; De Carlo, Jus Religiosorum, 82; Goyeneche, Quaestiones Canonicae, I, 180-82; Cappello, Summa Iuris Canonici, I, n. 201,'4; Pejska, op. cir., 233; Bender, op. cir., n. 417; Bergh, Revue des Cdmmunautds Religieuses, 20 (1948), 78; Chelodi-Ciprotti, Ius Canonicum de Personis, n. 102; Brys, Juris Canonici Compendium, I, n. 296, 2; Sipos, Enchiridion Iuris Canonici, 82. 137 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious e. g., by letter. Several authors maintain that the particular law or custom of an institute may permit separate voting.9 The opinion of these authors may be followed, even though it is not easy to perceive the foundation for the opinion. Canon 105, 2°, does not contain a clause permitting the continuance of contrary laws or customs, and it is difficult to see how a contrary immemorial custom or one of a century's duration could not-be prudently removed in this matter (cc. 5-6). The attempt to prove the same doctrine by recurring to canon 101, § 1, 1°, is equally obscure. It is true that this canon explicitly permits particular law to prevail over the common law, but it is a canon that only secondarily and analogously applies to an obligatory consent or advice of a council or chapter. The primary and proper canon is canon 105, 2°, which demands a common deliberation absolutely. The value of the com-mon deliberation is that the reasons and facts adduced by some will clarify the issue in the minds of all. A common deliberation also lessens the difficulty in proposing an opinion Contrary to that of the superior. The superior proposes the matters for discussion. He should give an objective description and explanation of each case, without revealing his own opinion. He then asks the opinions of each of the councilors. It is sometimes enjoined by the constitutions and is often customary for the last in precedence to speak first. The superior is to strive to secure a sincere and complete expression of opinion from all the councilors. Canon 105, 3°, obliges the councilors to express their opinions respectfully, sincerely, and truthfully. The superior should take care lest any more aggressive and vocal members dominate the council. These are not necessarily the most able or prudent. The councilors are to consider all matters objectively; they are not to be motivated by partisanship, faction-alism, anger, pride, stubbornness, or blind adherence to their own opinions. The councilors have full liberty to express their opinions. Their norm is the objective merits or demerits of the question, not what the superior wants. To assure this liberty, it is better for the superior to give his opinion last. The superior must be careful lest his attitude intimidate or discourage the councilors from a sincere expression of opinion. He may never consider the council as a mere "rubber stamp" for his own ideas. ~Maroto, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, 556, note 1; Michiels, op. cir., 530; Jone, op. cir., 120; Schaefer, op. cir., n. 582; Cocchi, Commentarium in Codicern Juris Canonici, II, 44; Geser, Canon Law Governing Communities of Sisters, n. 395. 138 ~VIay, 1960 COUNCILS IN LAY INSTITUTES The amount of time given to each matter will evidently vary with its importance and the :ease or difficulty in reaching a decision. The superior determines the duration and the number of times each councilor is to speak. Some constitutions state that an interval is to be allowed, at least on the petition of the majority of~the council, between the session in which a matter is proposed and that in which it is to be decided, unless the matter is urgent. This will o~dinarily occur only in important matters, but it is a norm that prudence itself will frequently demand or counsel. Some constitutions specify the interval as of one day or more, three or more; and three or eight days. 12. Manner of voting. Canon 105 does not impose any determined manner of voting, i. e~, orally, in writing, publicly, or secretly. The code requires a secret deliberative vote for alienations and the contracting of debts and obligations (c. 534, § 1) and for the dismissal of professed of temporary vows in pontifical congregations of men or women (c. 647, § 1). Very few constitutions of lay institutes contain any provision on the manner of voting, even though the Normae of 1901 stated that the deliberative vote was to be secret (n. 273). The varying provisions on the necessity of a secret vote in constitutions are: for all matters; whenever the deliberative vote is required; only for appointments; councilors may request it for an important matter; and when demanded by canon law, the constitutions, or requested by two councilors. The preferable norm is a secret vote whenever the deliberative vote is required. A secret vote is ordinarily taken by means of black and white beads or beans or in some similar manner. 13. Necessity of voting. Whenever the deliberative vote is required, the councilors are actually to vote; and the result of the voting is to be announced to the council. Otherwise the superior could not be certain that he had the consent of his council. The superior also votes. Actual voting may be done but is not necessary when only the advice or consultive vote is demanded. The superior is not obliged to follow even a unanimous consultive vote and he can reach his decision merely from the opinions proposed by the councilorS.1° 14. Number of votes required (c. 101, § 1, 1°). Unless the constitu-ti0ns specify a different norm, the votes are computed according to canon 101, § 1, 1°, i. e.~ a matter is settled by an absolute ~°De Carlo, op. cir., 82. On the fact that the superior also votes, cf. Bastien, op. cir., n. 326; Battandier, op. cit., n. 453; Lanslots, Handbook of Canon Law, n. 394. 139 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious majority, which is any number thdt exceeds half the valid votes cast. The constitutions do not contain, either for affairs or ap-pointments, the norm of canon 101, § 1, 1°, that a relative majority suffices on the third balloting. In appointments one person is voted for at a time; and all affairs are so proposed that they can be voted on affirmatively or negatively. Since the superior and the councilors ordinarily constitute an uneven number, a tie is scarcely possible unless one of the members is absent. Canon 101, § 1, 1°, commands a superior to break a tie after the third balloting, and this norm is to be observed when the constitutions are silent on this matter or do not contain a different norm for breaking a tie. In the former practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions, The superior was given the right or was commanded to break a tie after the first balloting. The recent practice gives this right or imposes the obligation only after the third balloting. In breaking a tie, the superior merely declares which side he favors; and he is not obliged to break the tie in favor of the side for which he had already voted. If the constitutions command the superior t~o break a tie after the first or third balloting, he must do so. He is not permitted to put the matter to another vote. The constitutions almost universally demand a full council for appointments and deny the superior the right of breaking a tie in this matter. In this case, a tie proves that the person concerned has not secured the vote of the council. 15. Appointments to office. The council should have a list of those qualified for office. This list is to be renewed at fixed intervals, e. g., every two or three years. Such a method will expedite the selection of superiors and officials and will also help to prevent the constant appointment of the same religions as superiors. In making a par-ticular appointment, the superior proposes the names for discussion. He decides when the discussion is sufficient and then proposes the names individually for voting. 16. Deliberative and consult~ve vote (c. 105, 1°). (a) Deliberative vote. There is no ambiguity in the expression of this vote. It is required whenever the code or the constitutions demand the consent, de-cisive or deliberative vote of the council. The necessity of the vote is also perfectly clear from canon 105, 1°, i. e., a superior acts invalidly when he acts without or contrary to the majority vote in any matter for which the deliberative vote is required. The 140 May, 1960 COUNCILS IN ~.~AY INSTITUTES consent of the council is a necessary positive element for the validity of the act of the superior.~1 Two important distinctions are to be kept in mind. Let us take as an example the erection of a new house, for which the con-stitutions require the deliberative vote of the general council. The superior general is not obliged to propose or to admit the proposal of this matter, since it appertains to the superior to determine whether a particular matter is to be submitted to the council. If he does propose it, the superior general must have the consent of his council validly to erect the house. If he secures this consent, he may erect the house; but he is not obliged to do so. He may abstain from such an action. The law commands him to have the consent of his council to erect the house; it does not oblige him to act according to the consent of the council.12 The second distinction is that canon 105, 1°, commands consent for the validity of an action of a superior when the consent is that of an inferior or inferiors, not when the law commands the consent of a higher authority, e. g., of a higher superior, the local ordinary, or the Holy See. The consent of a higher authority is required for validity only when this is expressly stated in the law in question; otherwise it is demanded only for the liceity of the superior's act.13 (b) Consultive vote. Consultive vote means that the superior is to listen to the opinions of his council. It is clearly stated in the following expressions: with the consultive vote, or with the advice, of the council; having consulted or heard the council; and according to the counsel or advice of the council. The expressions "with the council" and "with the vote of the council" are ambiguous but are to be interpreted in themselves as demanding only a consultive vote. Since the necessity of a vote is restrictive of the rights of a superior, it is to be interpreted strictly. Therefore, if it is doubtful whether any vote is necessary, no vote is necessary; if it is doubtful whether the vote imposed is deliberative or consultive, it is only consultive (c. 19). In constitutions it is preferable to use uniformly ~Can. 1680, § 1; Vromant, op. cir., n. 45; Michiels, op. cir., 504; Larraona, op. cir., 9 (1928), 422; Naz, Traitd de Droit Canonique, I, n. 367. Cf. De Ritibus Orientalibus de Personis, can. 35, § 1, 1°. 1~Michiels, op. cit., 500; Goyeneche, De Religiosis, 47; Quaestiones Can-onicae, I, 185; Jone, op. cit., 118-19; Larraona, op. cit., 9 (1928), 422, note 686; 424; Bender, op. cir., n. 377, 1; Berutti, De Personis, 58; Abbo-Hannan, The Sacred Canons, I, 153; Beste, Introductio in Codicem, 167. ~aMichiels, op. cir., 495; Berutti, op. cir., 56; Jone, op. cir., 118; Bender, op. cir., n. 377, 2; Regatfllo, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, n. 206; Scho.enegger, Periodica, 31 (1942), 120~21. 141 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious the expressions "with the consent" and "with the advice." Both are clear and brief. 1° An act placed without consultation, i. e., the act requires the advice of a council and the superior does not even request this advice. Such an act of a superior is almost certainly invalid from the wording of canon 105, 1°;~4 but it is still solidly probable that the act is merely illicit, not invalid, until the Holy See has author-itatively decreed otherwise. Therefore, a superior acts validly but illicitly if he acts without seeking the advice of his council when this is required by law. The previous consultation is required for validity whenever a determined law demands the consultation under the expressed sanction of invalidity. This is true of some canons, e. g., 2152, § 1; 2153, §.1; 2159; but no such canon is found in the section on religious. The same sanction is possible but in fact is not imposed by the law of the constitutions of lay institutes. 2° No obligation to follow the consultive vote. The code does not oblige a superior to follow even the unanimous consultive vote of his council; but it is recommended and he is counselled ordinarily to do so, i. e., he is to consider seriously and should not depart from a unanimous vote unless he has a reason that prevails over the vote. The superior is the judge of the existence and weight of such a prevailing reason. It is evident that a superior is always to give due consideration to the advice of his council, especially but not only when it is unanimous; otherwise the office of a councilor and the obligation of seeking advice in such matters would be mere formalities. 17. Matters that require the deliberative or consultive vote. The con-stitutions contain an article that lists what are called the more important cases in which the deliberative vote of the general council is necessary. This article is usually unsatisfactory. It does not list all nor the more important or practical cases of such a vote. The constitutions most rarely include a list of the matters that demand the consultive vote. The list below is based on the present practice of the Holy See and is intended to be complete. This prac-tice is not invariable. In different approved constitutions, the same matter sometimes demands a deliberative vote, a consultive vote, or no vote at all. The list therefore will not be in complete agree-ment with all constitutions, even if they have been recently ap-proved by the Holy See. Some of the matters listed below demand 14Cf. De Ritibus Orientalibus de Personis, can. 35, § 1, 2°. 142 May, 1960 COUNCILS IN LAY INSTITUTES the deliberative or consultive vote from. the law of the code, but in most cases the vote is imposed only by the law of the constitu-tions. It would unnecessarily complicate the question to include this distinction in the list. Some also require recourse to the Holy See or the local ordinary, but this is stated in the chapter of the constitutions that treats of the particular maiter. (a) The superior general must have the deliberative vote of his council in the following cases. 1° The condonation in whole or in part of the dowry of those having degrees or compensating abilities, if such a faculty is contained in the constitutions. 2° The investment of the dowry. 3° Dispensation from an entrance impediment of the constitu-tions. 4° Admission to the noviceship and first profession. 5° The establishment or transfer of a novitiate. 6° The dismissal of a professed of temporary or perpetual vows and the sending of a professed religious immediately back to secular life. 7° The convocation of an extraordinary general chapter for reasons other than those specified in the constitutions, the designation of the place of a general chapter, and the forma-tion of groups of smaller houses for the election of delegates to the general chapter. ' 8° The transfer of the permanent residence of the superior general or provincial. 9° To give a formal precept of obedience to an entire house, province, or to the entire congregation. 10° To appoint a. visitor for the entire congregation or an entire province, at least if the visitor is not a member of the general council. 11° The choice of a substitute for an absent general councilor. 120 The acceptance of the resignation, removal, and deposition of a general councilor, secretary general, bursar general, procurator general, and the appointment of a si~ccessor in these cases. 130 The appointment, transfer, and removal of provincial, regional, and local superiors, their councilors, secretaries, and bursars, of a master or assistant master of novices, the master of the junior professed, instructor of tertians, supervisors of schools and studies, principals of schools, and administrators of hospitals. 143 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious 14° Approval of the accounts of the bursar general. 15° The imposition of an extraordinary tax, the alienation of property, contracting of debts and obligations, the making of contracts in the name of the congregation, extraordinary expenses, and other matters of a financial nature according to the norms of canon law and the ordinances of the general chapter. 16° The erection of new provinces; the union, modification, or suppression of existing provinces; the formation, change, and suppression of regions; and the erection and suppression of houses. 17° All matters for which recourse to the Holy See is necessary. 18° All matters remitted to the deliberative vote by the general chapter. (b) The superior general requires the Consultive vote of his council in the following cases. 1° The dismissal of novices. 2° The prolongation of the noviceship and temporary profession. 3° Admission to renewal of temporary profession, to perpetual profession, and exclusion from the renewal of temporary profession or from perpetual profession. 4° The declaration of fact for the automatic dismissal of a pro-fessed religious. 5° Approval of the quinquennial report to the Holy See. 6° Approval of the reports of the superior general to the general chapter. 7° To give a practical interpretation of a doubtful point of the constitutions. 8° All matters remitted to the consultive vote by the general chapter. There is very little in many constitutions on the part of the provincial superior and his council in the acts listed below. There is even more variety in the constitutions that do treat this matter. The admission to the noviceship and professions, the dismissal of novices, the appointment of local superiors, local councilors and bursars, and of the master and assistant master of novices are often made by the provincial with the consent of his council but require the consent or especially the confirmation, ratification, approbation, or approval of the superior general with the deliberative vote of his council. (c) The provincial superior requires no vote of his council for admission to, prolongation of, or dismissal from the postulancy. 144 .May, 1960 COUNCILS IN LAY INSTITUTES (d) The provincial must have the deliberative vote of his council: For the following acts: 1° Investment of the dowry. 2° Admission to the noviceship. 3° To send a professed religious immediately back to secular life. 4° The designation of the place of the provincial chapter and the formation of the groups of smaller houses for the election of delegates to this chapter. 5° To give a formal precept of obedience to an entire house. 6° To appoint a visitor for the entire province, at least if the visitor is not a provincial councilor. 7° The appointment of local councilors and bursars, principals of schools, and administrators of hospitals. 8° Approval of the accounts of the provincial bursar. 9° The alienation of property, contracting of debts and obliga-tions, the making of contracts in the name of the province, extraordinary expenses, and other matters of a financial nature according to the norms of canon law and the ordinances of the general chapter. 10° Other matters according to the enactments of the general chapter. For the following requests to the superior general and his council: 1° The condonation in whole or in part of the dowry of those having degrees or compensating abilities, if such a faculty is contained in the constitutions. 2° Dispensation from an entrance impediment of the constitutions. 3° Admission to first temporary profession. 4° Dismissal of a professed of temporary or perPetual vows. 5° Erection and transfer of a novitiate and erection and suppres-sion of houses. 6° The removal, deposition, and replacement of a provincial councilor, secretary, or bursar; and the appointment, transfer, and removal of local superiors, the master and assistant master of novices, the master of the junior professed, the instructor of tertians, and provincial supervisors of schools and studies. 7° All matters for which recourse to the Holy See is necessary. 8° Other matters according to the ordinances of the general chapter. (e) The provincial superior requires the consult~ve vote of his council: For the following acts: 145 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious I° Prolongation of and dismissal from the noviceship. 2° Admission to renewal of temporary profession. 3° The declaration of fact for an automatic dismissal of a professed religions. 4° Other matters according to the ordinances of the general chapter. For the following requests to the superior general and his council: 1° Prolongation of or exclnsion from renewal of temporary pro-fession and exclusion from perpetual profession. 2° Admission to perpetual profession. 3° Other matters according to the ordinances of the general chapter. The treatment of the local council in constitutions is far more varied and unsatisfactory. Canon 653 states: "In the case of grave external scandal or of very serious imminent injury to the com-munity, a religions may be immediately sent back to secular life by a higher superior with the consent of his council or even, if there is danger in delay and time does not permit recourse to a higher superior, by the local superior with the consent of his council and that of the local ordinary." This extraordinary case is the only one in which canon law demands the consent of the local council in a lay institute. The following typical article is a practical summary of what is found in constitutions at the present time. The local superior shall convoke his council every month, or oftener if necessary. Outside of the extraordinary case of canon 653, the local councilors have only a consultive vote except in matters for which the general chapter or the superior general with the consent of his council has decreed that the vote mnst be deliberative. The superior is to discuss with his council the appointment of religions to the local offices and duties not :reserved to higher superiors, the monthly approval of the accounts of the local bursar, financial matters according to the ordinances of the general chapter, the ~material condition and all important matters of the house and its works, the observance of the constitutions, the progress of the religions spirit among the members of the house, and the means to be used to correct abuses and defects that may have crept into the house. Several constitutions impose a deliberative vote for all financial matters. 18. Monasteries of nuns. A monastery is different from a congrega-tion in that the superioress may be obliged to seek the vote of either the council or the chapter (cc. 534, § 1; 543; 575, § 2; 646, § 2). To give again merely a practical summary of what is stated 146 May, 1960 COUNCILS IN LAY INSTITUTES in constitutions, the vote of the chapter is deliberative for ad-mission to the noviceship and temporary profession and consultive for admission to final profession, solemn or simple, and in some monasteries for all the more important affairs of the monastery. The vote of the ,council is deliberative for the dismissal of a novice, investment of the dowry, dismissal of a professed of temporary or perpetual vows, the sending of a professed religious immediately .back to secular .life, appointment and removal of officials of the monastery, alienations, the contracting of debts and obligations, extraordinary expenses; and in some monasteries there is a de-liberative vote previous to that of the chapter for admission to temporary profession. The vote of the council is consultive for the dismissal of postulants; the prolongation of the postulancy, noviceship, or temporary profession; all other important matters of the monastery; and' in some monasteries there is a consultive Vote previous to that of the chapter for admission to perpetual profession, solemn or simple. 19. Federations of nuns. The mother general (president) requires the consent of her council in such matters as the designation of the place of the general chapter; the convocation of an extra-ordinary general chapter; acceptance of the resignation, deposition, and appointment of a successor of a general official; and the erec-tion and suppression of monasteries. The regional mother is obliged to consult her council on such matters as the erection and suppres-sion of monasteries and the possible erection of a common novitiate. It is evideat that the council of a confederation, federation, or region should also be consulted in other important matters. 20. Minutes. There should be a council book, in which the minutes of each session are recorded by the secretary. These are to contain the date, names of the absentees and of any substitutes, all affairs that were discussed, the decisions reached, and the number of votes for and against each decision. The minutes are read and approved by the council at the beginning of the following session. The secretary should add a notation of the vote by which the minutes were approved. The minutes are then signed by the superior and the secretary or, according to some constitutions, by all the councilors. In many congregations the minutes are signed by the superior and the secretary before the approval of the council, and there are also congregations in which this approval is not prescribed. The reading and approval of the minutes are an or-dinary practice in both secular and religious bodies of this nature. 21. The assistant and vicar. The constitutions of lay institutes 147 JOSEPH F. GALLEN ordinarily determine that the assistant takes the place of the superior, whether general, intermediate, or local, when the latter is absent or for any reason whatever is unable to exercise his office. They prescribe with equal frequency that the assistant, as vicar, succeeds immediately but provisionally to the office of superior on a vacancy by death, resignation, removal, or deposition. A vicar has all the powers of a superior, as has also an appointed acting superior. The right to convoke and preside over a council appertains to the superior, vicar, and an acting superior. A few constitutions enact that the general or provincial assistant con-yokes, and presides over the council when the respective superior is sick, absent, or otherwise impeded. Unless expressly forbidden by the constitutions, any superior may also give even general delegation to his assistant to do this (c. 199, § 1); and this power is explicitly stated in some constitutions. It is not the practice of constitutions to make provision for sessions of the local council in the absence or incapacity of the local superior. Any vicar or acting superior, whether general, intermediate, or local, should hold the sessions prescribed by the constitutions, sinve he pos-eesses the authority of a superior. Because his office is provisional and temporary, he should avoid innovations of moment unless these are demanded by the urgency of the matter. 148 The Dictionary of Spirituality R. F. Smith, S.J. THE DICTIONARY OF SPIRITUALITY (Dictionnaire~ de I spiritualit~) is a French reference work devoted exclusively to matters concerned with spirituality. The Dictionary is still in process of being published; three volumes have already appeared, and a large part of the fourth volume has been issued in separate fascicles. The purpose of this article will be to give some idea of the contents of the latest fascicles (nos. 26 and 27; Paris: Beau-chesne, 1959). No attempt will be made here to indicate all the articles included in the two fascicles, but a number of them will be summarized so that readers of R~.v~Ew Fo~t RELm~OUS may have some knowledge of the type of subject matter treated in the Dictionary. As is evident, statements of fact or of opinion are the responsibility of the authors of the various articles in the Dictionary and do not necessarily reflect the views of the editorial staff of the REw~.w. Elevations English spiritual literature does not as a rule use the term elevation as the name of a certain type of meditation book, but both the name and the type have been popular in France; the history of this form of spiritual writing is detailed in the Dictionary from column 553 to 558. The term elevation is actually an ancient one in the history of thought, going back to Plato and other pagan Greek philosophers, the aim of whom was to secure the ~a¢~, or the a~a~7~ (both words mean equivalently elevation or ascent) of the soul to God or at least to spiritual realities. These words were then taken over by Christian writers, and all the more readily since parallel ideas are found in the Bible (see Ps 123:1; 141:2; Col 3:1-2). Hence it is that the traditional description of prayer has always been that of an elevation (or an ascent) of the mind to God. Since the seventeenth century, howev.er, the term elevation has been used in French spiritual literature to denote meditations in which the beauty of the thoughts, the ardor of the feelings, and a certain magnificence of style join forces to lift the soul more easily and gently to the thought of God. Passages of this kind of 149 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious writing are to be found even among pagan writers (for example, the monotheistic hymn of. Aton, some of the passages in Plato and Plotinus); and large sections of the Bible also partake of the nature of elevations (see Jb 36:22-39:25; Tob 13; Is 60-62; Jn 17; Rom 8). So too throughout the course of Christian spiritual literature elevational passages have not been absent, but it was not until modern times that elevations became a separate and self-conscious type of spiritual writing. Cardinal B~rulle gave the greatest impetus to the new form with his frequent elevations, the purpose of which was to bring the spirit of the liturgy into private devotion, The greatest example of elevations is Bossuet's work, Elevations to God on All the Mysteries of the Christian Religion. This type of writing is still frequent among the French, Vandeur and Guerry being, two of the foremost exponents of it today. Elijah Two Carmelite authors (col. 564-72) examine the validity of the traditional association of the prophet Elijah with religious life and with the Carmelite order in particular. The first section of the article remarks that although the Carmelite- tradition of~ the prophet Elijah as the father of monastic life has. not always been based on the soundest reasons, yet the intuition incorporated into the tradition is basically sound; for Elijah is presented in the Bible as a remarkable combination of contemplation and action. Thus, for example, in his dispute with the priesis of Baal on Mount Carmel there is manifested the zeal of Elijah for the worship of the one, true God, even at the possible danger of his. own life. So, too, Elijah shines forth as a man of action in his constant and frequent opposition to the kings whom he regarded as a source of moral corruption for the Israelites. The contemplative aspect of Elijah is shown in the scriptural presentation of him as a man of mystery, removed from other men. His appearancesand disap-pearances are sudden; he lives in solitude, nourished by food pro-vided for him in a supernatural way; the distance between Elijah and other men is strikingly accentuated by his final ascent in a fiery chariot. Finally Elijah is presented as a man who has spoken with God and to whom God has spoken in that small, still voice which is a symbol of God's intimacy with him. The next section of the article considers Elijah and the mo: nastic life. Before the foundation of monastic life, .Greek and Latin fathers rarely referred to Elijah as a model for Christian living; 150 May, 1960 DICTIONARY OF SPIRITUALITY but the fathers of the desert found in him a forerunner of their own way of living, It is in fact in the Life of St. Anthony that is found the first explicit appeal to the example of Elijah as a model of a life lived in the presence of God. This linking of Elijah and the life of perfection continued to grow in the Eastern Church; and in the liturgical feast which was finally accorded Elijah he was hailed with the title usually given to a monk-saint: "terrestrial angel and celestial man." In its beginnings western monasticism did not appeal to the example of Elijah. Later, however, St. Ambrose and St. Jerome expressed the opinion that Elijah could be legitimately considered a forerunner of monastic life; and gradually the monks of the West came to see in the prophet a model for their own virginity, purity of heart, solitude, and life of prayer. Nevertheless there .are but few indications of a liturgical cult to the prophet, and even among the Carmelites the feast of Elijah was a late introduction. It is to be noted that the new preface approved for the feast of the prophet says of him that "he laid the foundations of monastic life." The last part of the article examines the relationship between Elijah and the Carmelite order. During the crusades of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, not a few of the crusaders were drawn to a life of preyer; and some of them settled on Mount Carmel in pursuit of this aim. In 1209 a group of monks living on Mount Carmel re-ceived a rule of life from Albert, patriarch of Jerusalem; later the rule was confirmed in 1226 by Pope Honorius III. These monks became the Carmelites. It is not certain, however, that the monks had come to Mount Carmel out of veneration for the prophet; and their rule does not refer to the prophet as a source of inspiration. It seems more probable that the monks' presence on Mount Carmel gradually led to a devotion to Elijah which eventually became an integral part of the traditions of Carmelite spirituality. The legend of a continuous eremitical life on Mount Carmel from Elijah to the crusaders is alluded to in the Constitutions of the Chapter of London of 1281; and in the fourteenth century the figure of the prophet was linked with the strong Marian tradition of the Carmelites. Elizabeth of the Trinity and Anne Catherine Emmerich Sister Elizabeth of the Trinity (1880-1906) and her life lived in the praise of the glory of the Trinity have been of considerable interest to modern spiritual writers; the Dictionary's brief article 151 R. F. SMITH Review for ReligiOus on her (col. 590-94) delineates the stages of her spiritual progress, At nineteen she found in the writings of St. Teresa of Avila the central orientation of her life: intimacy with God living within her. From that time the aim of her life was to live always in the "cell" which God had built in her heart and one of the most characteristic phrases of her spirituality became that of the "heaven of my own soul." Later the Dominican Father ValiSe taught her to realize the Trinitarian aspect of the divine presence within her, and the reading of the works of St. John of the Cross gave her a full awareness of the transforming effects of the Trin-itarian presence. Meanwhile God Himself had been directing her, leading her through a long, continuous period of aridity and de-pression meant to purify her soul for its final ascent to God. At the end of this period on November 21, 1904, she was led to compose her famous prayer to the Trinity that synthesizes her entire spiritual doctrine. For Sister Elizabeth the fundamental condition of the spiritual life was the ascesis of silence and recollection, a separation from all things that could prevent one from praising God. The essential duty of the spiritual life was to believe in the God who is love and to give Him an adoration of love expressed in an absolute fidelity to His least desire. The model of this life she found in the Incarnate Word, for He is the perfect praise of the glory of the Father. And her final desire in her spiritual life was to join the unceasing praise of the blessed in heaven as that is described in the last chapters of the Apocalypse. Anne Catherine Emmerich (1774-1824) is known today chiefly for the lives of Christ and our Lady attributed to her, but she was also a stigmatist; it is this latter aspect of Anne Catherine that is first discussed in the Dictionary (col. 622-27). Although she possessed a partial share in the stigmata as early as 1799, it was not until 1812 that all the stigmata became apparent in her. Soon after their appearance she was given a full medical and ecclesiastical investigation. The wounds of Anne Catherine, however, yielded to no medical treatment; moreover' continuous medical surveillance established the fact that she fasted from everything except water. Later a governmental examining, board investigated the case and could find no evidence of deception or fraud. In the opinion of the author of the article the stigmata of Anne Catherine must be judged to have been of supernatural origin; a.n.d he quotes with approval the remark of Alois Mager, O.S.B., that the records of the stigmata of Anne Catherine constitute "a rare source for the 152 May, 1960 DICTIONARY OF SPIRITUALITY psychological, religious, and medical study of stigmatisation and other analogous phenomena." The case is not quite so clear, however, with regard to her visions. At the command of her spiritual director, Anne Catherine related her visions from 1818 to 1824 to Clement Brentano; from the notes he took from his almost daily interviews with her, he later published three works on the lives of our Lord and our Lady. Although Brentano himself admitted that Anne Catherine never attributed more than a human value to her experiences, he himself insisted on the historical accuracy of every detail in the works, claiming that Anne Catherine in her visions was actually present at every scene described. Critical study, however, has proved that Brentano actually incorporated into the works he published ac-counts borrowed from other writers. Accordingly in 1927 the Congregation of Rites refused to accept as the writings of Anne Emmerich the volumes published under her name. With regard to the visions actually experienced by Anne Emmerich, the author of the article concludes that it is impossible for anyone today to say whether or not they had a supernatural origin. Devotion to the Infant Jesus The Dictionary's article on devotion to the Infant Jesus (col. 652-82) details the history of that devotion from the earliest times down to our own day. The patristic period of the Church did not in general possess what we would call today a personal devotion to the Infant Savior. Even the liturgical feasts of Christmas and Epiphany did not express such a devotion, for they were primarily instituted to stress religious ideas "and dogmas, and not to com-memorate historical events in the life of Christ. In the earliest history of the Church, the closest thing to a manifestation of a devotion to the Infant Jesus is to be found in the nun~erous pil-grimages to the Holy Land and especially to Bethlehem. With the Middle Ages, however, devotion to the Infant began to grow and to flourish; medieval man, with his taste for the con-crete and his desire for affectivity in his religious life, was led quite naturally to a display of ardent devotion to the appealing figure of the Infant of Bethlehem. The devotion received its first major impulse from St. Bernard; it is in his sermons on the Nativity cycle that are given the first detailed contemplations of the Infant, and there for the first time is His charm described at length. Afterwards St. Francis of Assisi, with his predilection for the 153 R. F. S~I Review for Religious mystery of the Nativity, continued and enlarged the popularity of the devotion to the Infant Jesus. This Franciscan love for the Nativity scene also marked a step forward in the technique of meditation; it was at this time and on the occasion of meditations on the Nativity scene that the Franciscans introduced the method of entering into and becoming a part of the scene meditated on, The ardor with which the devotion was practiced during the Middle Ages can be judged by various indications. It is then that for the first time in the history of Christian sanctity., saints and mystics are given visions of the Infant Jesus. Painters began to depict the adoration of the Infant, thus making the Babe the center of their artistic works. At the same time the use of individual statuettes of the Infant came into existence. Finally, towards the end of the sixteenth century, the Carmelite Francis of the Infant Jesus became the first known person to choose the Infant as his special model. Tl~e frequency with which this title was afterwards used is a dear sign that devotion to the Infant Jesus had assumed the role of an orientating point for the conduct of the spiritual life. The seventeenth century saw another great growth in the devotion. The Infant Christ was a special object of devotion for Cardinal B~rulle who loved to insist that a person interested in the spiritual life could learn from the Infant innocence, dependency, humility, purity, and especially silence. Under B~mlle's influence, the French Carmelite nuns became advocates of the devotion; it was these nuns who popularized the notion that a person must become an infant in order to honor the Infant Word. St. John Eudes introduced a special feast of the Infant (February 6) and composed the oi~ce for it. Olier received a vision of our Lady bidding him to honor the infancy of her Son, and from him the devotion spread throughout the Sulpicians. Towards the end of the seventeenth century, however, devo-tion to the Infant began to decline, possibly because of the con-demnation of Madame Guyon, who had practiced an extreme form of the devotion. In the eighteenth century the devotion was not very prominent, though there was a growth throu~ghout the world in the devotion to the Infant Jesus of Prague. The religious revival of the nineteenth century, however, led to a new growth in the devotion; the extent of this growth can be judged from the number of congregations of religious who placed the name of the Infant Jesus in their official title. The devotion to the Infant Jesus con, tinues to be prominent in the modem Church. St. Teresa of Lisieux practiced the devotion as did the spiritual writer, Dom Vital 154 May, 1960 DICTIONARY OF SPIRITUALI~ Lehodey, whose whole spirituality was centered around the Infant of Bethlehem. Spiritual Childhood The article that is devoted in the Dictionary to a consideration of spiritual childhood or infancy (col. 682-714) is chiefly interesting for the scriptural data that it provides. Spiritual childhood is defined at the beginning of the article as an act of abandon into the hands of the Father made by a soul conscious of its own smallness and radical powerlessness. It is composed accordingly of humility and the consciousness of the divine fatherhood with all the limitless confidence implied by these two elements. This concept of spiritual childhood is to be found in the Old Testament but expressed in different phraseology. It is expressed first of all in the Old Testament theme of poverty. In the early books of the Bible poverty means only the lack of possessior&; but with Isaiah and Sophoniah it adds to this a spiritual meaning, denoting an attitude that is the opposite of pride. This poverty is the theme of some thirty of the Psalms where the poor man is shown to be one whose only wealth is God and who regards himself as an infant in the hands of God. The spiritualisation of this concept of poverty re-ceived its final form in the sapiential books, where the idea of spiritual poverty is completely isolated from its sociological mean-ing and made into a moral-ideal applicable to all, whether rich or poor. This poverty of spirit is a voluntary and total submission to Yahweh with a special emphasis on the smallness and powerlessness and misery of man with regard to his Creator. Poverty in this sense became an essential element in the Jewish religious attitude; it is to be noted that Zechariah (9:9) presented the coming King- Messiah as one who is poor in spirit. The constituents of spiritual childhood are also to be found in another major theme of the Old Testament, that of the father-hood of God. The idea of a divine fatherhood had deep roots in Semitic history; all Semite peoples regarded their national god as the father of the nation. Hence too Yahweh is the father of the Israelites, but in a special sense; since Yahweh is not a national god, but the Ruler of all peoples, His fatherhood of Israel is a special favor given to the Israelite people. Accordingly the prime duty of the Israelites is to honor Yahweh as their father, and He on HIS part must love and protect HIS sons. This loving relationship between God and the Israelite nation is emphasized by another figure of the Old Testament, that of God as the Bridegroom of 155 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious Israel; this figure accentuates the tenderness and intimacy of the union of God with Israel. When we come to the New Testament, it is to be noted that all the elements of spiritual childhood (including the vocabulary) are to be found in Christ's own personal teaching. He makes poverty (in the sense of the Old Testament) the fundamental attitude of His disciples; they must be joyfully aware of their own radical powerlessness with regard to the kingdom and must expect their salvation only from God. At the same time they must address God in their prayers as their Father, and their love for God as their Father demands of them an absolute confidence (see Mk 11:34; Mt 7:7-8; Lk 11:9). Christ also introduced the word child into the vocabulary of the spiritual life. In Matthew 11:25-26 Christ thanks the Father that He has made His revelation not to the wise and prudent, but to little children. The term "little children" is a translation of a Greek word meaning an infant still unable to speak; the doctrine of God, then, is given to those aware of their helplessness and receptive to help from outside of them-selves. Again in Mark 10:14 Christ says that the kingdom of God belongs to children; in this passage Christ's consideration is not directed toward the innocence or simplicity of children, but to their humility, receptivity, and confidence. The kingdom of God is a gift and a grace, and it must be received in the same spirit of de-pendence as the child receives his natural needs from his parents. It is to be noted that in the Gospels two groups of persons are said to possess the kingdom of God: the poor in spirit (Mr 5:3) and children (Mk 10:14). Thereby is made an identification of the poor man of the Old Testament and the way of spiritual childhood.' The poor man of the 01d Testament becomes the child of the Gospel. In the Pauline epistles there is given a sort of negative com-mentary on the word child, as Christ understood it. In his writings St. Paul always gives the word child a pejorative sense, implying childishness and lack of maturity. By so doing, St. Paul is not to be understood as rejecting the way of spiritual childhood, but as forcibly underlining the fact that spiritual childhood or infancy must be carefully distinguished from infantilism, which is not worthy of a Christian. The rest of the article on spiritual childhood or infancy does not add much to the above scriptural teaching. Three things from this section can, however, be noted here. First, growth in the understanding and practice of the way of spiritual childhood 156 May, 1960 DICTIONARY OF SPIRITUALITY developed in the Church under the impulse of devotion to the Infant Jesus. Secondly, it is again emphasized that spiritual child-hood is not childishness but is rather full Christian maturity. And thirdly, the way of spiritual childhood is but the development of the grace given in Baptism by which man is made into a son of God. Education for Sanctity The article (col. 714-27) on the spiritual life of the infant and the pre-adolescent child points out that a child becomes capable of exercising the supernatural powers that were given him in baptism when he reaches the age of reason, that is, when he is capable of an attitude of love and adoration towards God and hence of moral discernment. In many cases, says the author, this period may come quite late, but in well-endowed children who have received good training the age of reason may be reached at the early age of two and a half or three. The presence and growth of the spiritual life in the child can be judged by three signs based on the teaching of St. Thomas in Summa theologiae, 1-2, 112, 5c. These signs are: the child's aptitude for silence and interior recollection; his aptitude to do things for others without expecting a recompense .for himself; and a certain quality of peace and joy in the child's way of acting. The author next considers the various modes in which the child exercises his life of grace. The first way is that of a conversion process, as indicated by St. Thomas in Summa theologiae, 1-2, 89, 6c and ad 3. So St. Teresa of Lisieux experienced a conversion to God at least by the age of three; and Anne de Guign~ at the age of four experienced a conversion from a life of jealousy, anger, and pleasure to a life of love for her neighbor and intimacy with God. Generally this process of conversion takes place on the occasion of the symbols of God that are presented to it. Gradually the child begins to sense the presence and reality of a mysterious Being who is at once very powerful and very lovable and whose name is always uttered by his parents with respect and reverence. The life of grace in children is also expressed in contemplation, and the beauties of nature may well be the means by which the spirit and exercise of contemplation is aroused in them. Children also experience vocation, that is a particular orientation of their life as intended by God. Frequently the exact goal of this orienta-tion remains closed to them, but their life begins to take on a special comportment in accord with God's designs for them (for example, interest in thinking about God or in helping others), and 157 R. F. SMITH they develop a special spiritual climate (for example, joy or com-punction). Finally in this section the author inquires into the possibility of sin. in the infant and small child, concluding that grave sin is rare and practically impossible in children until they reach the ages of seven or eight. In the next part of the article the author considers how a child may be trained so as to allow him to develop the gifts of grace within him. The first requirement is to provide the child with a climate of silence and peace; hence in those training the child there must be calmness and a lack of nervousness, haste, and febrile agitation. The child must also be given a climate of joy, and this will be best achieved if he perceives that those around him regard their Christian life not as a burden but as a privilege. Hence too all religions duties must be presented to the child in a context of gladness. Parents and educators cannot afford to forget that the spiritual life of the child develops largely out of imitation of them. He knows God in the resemblance of those who speak to him about God. From the love of his parents he derives his first idea of the love and providence that God has for him; and the way in which parents and educators pronounce the name of God will be the child's first initiation into the mystery of God. From the beginning the child must be introduced to the fundamental and central truths of the Christian religion: God is great, and He loves us as a father. The communication of religious truth to the child must be made concrete and personal, for the child must be introduced into a living world of reality. Finally the child must be introduced to prayer and must gradually be made a participant in the prayer of his parents and educators. He should be taught the Our Father from the beginning and then other prayers -- short and dense -- drawn principally from the Bible and the liturgy. It is hoped that the above pages will furnish some indication of the kind of article to be found in the Dictionary of Spirituality. The work will be found useful both on the level.of information and on that of inspiration. It should be noted in conclusion that each article of the Dictionary provides bibliographical references for further study and investigation. 158 The Director of the Retreat Hugh Kelly, S.J. ANY PRIEST who has a tree understanding of the Spiritual Exercises will feel a movement of resentment, a desire to protest when he hears himself described as "preaching" a retreat. He can accept "giving" a retreat because the phrase carries the traditional meaning, but he knows that to consider him as preacher is to misunderstand the nature of the Exercises. He has, of course, to deliver conferences; but he must not be merely the preacher. He knows that if he is to be tree to the essential conception of that most distinctive ministry, he must be a director and director even more than preacher. But here a difficulty presents itself to the modem retreat master. There are certain circum-stances in the modem retreat which reduce -- if they do not suppress -- the role of the director. If these are not considered and countered, there is a grave danger that the director may be entirely replaced by the preacher and as a result the value of the Exercises seriously diminished. Before considering the problem presented by modem retreats, it will be necessary to have a clear idea of the role of the director in the Exercises as St. Ignatius understood them. It can be said without exaggeration that the place and function of the director are indicated or supposed in every stage of the retreat. A detailed page-by-page proof of this assertion would occupy too much space ¯ and moreover is not necessary. It will b~ sufficient t9. refer to those parts where the work of the director is most clearly indicated. First of all in position, and even in importance fdr our purpose, come the twenty Annotations, which are a set of practical instruc-tions meant to indicate what. the Exercises are and which are intended t~ help both the director and the exercitant, but chiefly the former. By far the greater part of these twenty are meant for the director. From the beginning they make it clear to him that he is in charge of the retreat, that he is to conduct and control it to such a degree that it can scarcely be conceived without him. He is given detailed instructions as to the manner in which he is to give The Reverend Hugh Kelly is presently stationed at Rathfarnlmm Castle, Rathfarnham, Dublin, Ireland. 159 HUGH KELLY Review for Religious his conferences, to propose the spiritual truths. He is instructed that he is to watch the exercitant so as to get to know his interior reactions, that he is to visit him every day to find out how he is following the meditations, that he is to protect him against those temptations or illusions that will trouble him at certain stages, that he is to impart to him some criteria that will enable him to deal with spiritual experiences, like consolation or desolation. He is also to enlighten and encourage and comfort him. In all this we are very far from the idea of one who merely preaches a set of spiritual conferences; we have a very definite sketch of one whose work is not at all finished when he has ceased to address the exercitant. It is made quite clear that his more important function is to see to it that his message has been received, that it has produced a definite fruit, and that it is carrying the hearer forward on a planned line. Moreover, throughout the course of the retreat, the work of the director is indicated. He is to administer the doctrine ac-cording to the capacity of the exercitant. He is to control the elaborate method and system which constitute a great part of the whole process of the retreat; he has the duty and power to modify, change, omit, retard', hasten, according to the needs of his hearer. This watclfful attention is especially commanded in the business of the election which is the chief work of the whole retreat. The preparation for this decision is the most subtle and delicat~ part of the director's work. He must shepherd the exercitant to this decision in such a way that the latter will be in the most favorable condition, spiritually and psychologically, to make the decision which is most for God's glory. He must enlighten him gradually and skilfully; he must guard him against illusions and errors; he must submit him to strong selected influences; he must dispose him, as it were, in every department of soul; and finally he must instruct him how to manipulate the complex method of election. But in all this elaborate, delicate work the director is, if he is to be true to his proper function, not to impose himself; he is not to urge nor drive nor even to lead. His work is essentially to bring it about, by his skill and prudence, that the exercitant is in the most favorable condition of soul to know the will of God, to feel most surely the attraction of grace, to be freed from inordinate affections in his choice. Hence the director must keep himself in the background; he will arrange the setting, regulate the tem-perature, so to speak, ward off interruptions, induce a suitable 160 May, 1960 DIRECTOR OF THE RETREAT atmosphere. He will then leave the soul face-to-face with God; he will not enter the ring when the decision is being made. This role of the director is clear in the genesis of the Exercises. We know that they record the process and method of St. Ignatius as he passed through the different stages of his conversion and vocation. When he was convinced that he was called to be an apostle, he set about that work in a characteristic way. He was not a preacher, either in natural gifts or with canonical authority. His method was to converse simply with a few hearers in a con-versational tone, to show forcibly and concretely what they were to do to live good Catholic lives, His talks were quite practical: how to examine their conscience, how to distinguish mortal sin from venial, how to make the commandments a living influence in their daily lives. He was concerned that his hearers should apply what he had said to their individual needs. He was primarily a director and not a preacher. When he. came to write down the fruits of his experience, he maintained the chief features of his apostolate: he gave the director the place he himself had played in his work for souls. That distinct place was recognized from the beginning;, and several manuals expounding that role -- called directories -- were composed, one of them by St. Ignatius himself. The chief official directory was drawn up at the desire of Father Aquaviva within forty years of the death of St. Ignatius and was meant to gather up and make permanent the practice and tradition of those who had learned from him. Its purpose is -- as its name indicates -- to lay down what is the function of the director. It is a practical manual, a method of procedure, a set of rubrics, for the conducting of the retreat. Thus the place of the director is fixed as an essential part of the Exercises. The director thus understood has been accepted in the tradi-tion and practice of the reinstated Society of Jesus as well as in the old. But with the lapse of time has come a new kind of religious retreat which does not seem to afford such a place to the director. The type of retreat specifically envisaged by St. Ignatius is one of thirty days, made by a man who probably had no previous exper-ience of spiritual things, for the purpose of coming to a decisio~a about his state of life -- an individual vocation-retreat. The place of a director in such a retreat is obvious and has been described. But the almost universal type of retreat in our time is something quite different; it is given to a religious community, as a prescribed periodic exercise, to those who may have long ago given themselves 161 HUGH KELLY Review for Religious to the service of God and who may well have considerable experi-ence of the spiritual life. The question then arises immediately, Is the traditional role of the director possible or how far is it possible in such aretreat? The question is one that cannot fairly be evaded. We are convinced of the value of the Exercises for the modern apostolate; and this conviction is strongly reinforced by the com-mendation given by Pins XI --' the most splendid testimony given by the Holy See to them. We are convinced of the place the director, that it is something substantial in them. But is a place possible in the modern retreat? The very considerable differences which mark. off the modern retreat from that envisaged by St. Ignatius must inevitably to considerable differences in the manner of giving the Exercises. There will be some obvibus modifications demanded by the conditions. For instance, some of thedoctrines proposed, especially in the beginning of the book, are of an elementary nature --how examine one's conscience, how to prepare for a general confession, and so forth. In our modern community retreat more mature deeper instruction will be expected. In the Directory in Chapter Nine, a considerable freedom is allowed to those who are practiced "in spiritual things." They are allowed to meditate on the subjects which they think useful for themselves or for the purpose they before them in the retreat. In his book La Spiritualit~ de la Com-pagnie de J~su, Father de Guibert discusses some of the changes which the new kind of retreat involves. He points out that those who make a retreat every year the Exercises must be quite familiar and that there is a danger of tedious monotony. overcome that mood of overfamiliarity in the audience and present the Exercises with some measure of freshness, a retreat giver of our day will need to introduce certain "adaptations enrichments." These will generally be the development of basic spiritual ideas of the Exercises, which are capable of hfmite application and development. The question of the director is no less important a problem. The measure and kind of direction prescribed by St. Ignatius an individual inexperienced in the spiritual life and seeking will of God about his state of life would not be appropriate: modern community retreat. That is at once obvious; the problem is to find out how much direction can be given in such a retreat and in what form. The retreat master is dealing with people who have been religions for many years and who may have reached high level of prayer and union with God. The first point to 162 ~Iay, 1960 DIRECTOR OF THE RETREAT noted then is that such people do not need the direction of be-ginners. There could be no need for detailed step-by-step direction, of constant inquiry into" the movements of grace, of warning against temptations and illusions. The stage for such treatment has passed long ago. The second point to be made is that direction need not be continuous. A soul finds itself perhaps at a minor crossroad, about to make a decision which may have considerable consequences; or it may feel attracted to some new method or degree in the spiritual life. Or again a soul needs confirmation, assurance, and encouragement. Such a soul knows that the mere fact of manifesting one's aims, attractions, failures to a sympathetic and competent director will bring light or a warm sense of gratitude and security. The situation of such souls can be easily explained to an experienced director and valuable help derived from such a procedure. That is a true and fairly normal process of direction with souls well advanced. These do not feel the need of constant direction; they will get the help they need with such occasional interview, s. How often does one hear a priest or religious say that a certain retreat marked a stage in their life; and on inquiry it would be explained that the 'deciding influence did not come from what was said at the conference table but from an interview in the confessional. The priest giving the retreat was a trained director; he understood the situation, the needs and capacity of the soul; he gave the advice and enlightenment which the occasion demanded; his help constituted direction in the truest sense. It follows from this that in a retreat according to the method of the Exercises the place of confession is of great importance. It is through the confessional that the director will. do his work; it is there that the general instructions of the conference are applied to the needs and dispositions of the individual. We may have heard retreat masters say that all their work was done at the conferences and that consequently the retreat confession meant for the exer-citant merely the usual weekly confession of rule or at most a brief review of the year since the last retreat. Such an opinion shows a very naive idea of the complexity of the individual soul. It also shows that the director has been replaced by the preacher and that the traditional way of giving the Exercises has been abandoned. That this traditional view is not merely a venerable tradition but still very much a matter of practice is clear from recent works on the Exercises. One article begins by correcting a mistaken view as to the strong point of the whole scheme of the Exercises, the view 163 HUGH KELLY Review for Religious that the value lies primarily, if not entirely, in the rigorous con-nection, the studied progress of ideas. The author points out that such a view takes no account of the interior activity which is suggested and controlled by the director.~ Another article describes in detail the work of finding the will of God pursued by the com-bined efforts of the exercitant and the director. This treatment is not merely historical, but obviously envisages the modem retreat.2 We may take it then that to secure the tree distinctive fruit of a retreat a certain cooperation with the director is generally nec-essary. The soul that is responding more sensitively and generously to the interior movement of the Spiritual Exercises will see the value, ff not the need, of some contact with a skilful director. That contact may be brief, just one or two interviews in the confessional; but such briefmeetings will be truly helpful. They will be sufficient to give assurance about the general direction of the spiritual life and also perhaps sorely needed encouragement to continue to struggle against the paralyzing monotony of fervor maintained. No doubt the experienced soul will be quick to see the application of what the director says in his conferences; but if the troth is one which may have a considerable effect on the spiritual life, then it will be grasped more firmly and fruitfully if discussed with the director. In such a situation it is clear that the preacher has not taken over full control. The influence of the director is felt; it permeates all the stages; it is discreetly active behind the conferences. The director has not merely preached spiritual doctrine; he has tried to apply it. He has not merely instructed; he has actually guided. He has kept in touch with the individual exercitant -- at least with those who have realized the need or benefit of direction. He has a certain idea of how the Holy Spirit is working in that section of his audience, of how His inspirations are being received. In the sixth Annotation St. Ignatius points out that the entire absence of spiritual movements might constitute a suspicious sign. It might well indicate that the exercitant is not doing his duty, is not cooperating by his fidelity to the conditions of the retreat. Consequently he should be questioned with a view to discovering if his aridity is the result of negligence or is due to the action of God. If a retreat consists of a series of lectures, then the work of the preacher is done when he stands up from the table. He is 1Jean Laplace, "L'Expdrience du discernement dans les Exercices de Saint Ignace," Christus, 4 (1954), 28-49. 2Charles Jacquet, "Le rSle de l'instructeur de la retraite," Christus, 10 (1956), 208-24. 164 May, 1960 DIRECTOR OF THE RETREAT not expected to interest himself in the effect of his words on individual hearers. But in .such a situation there is no meaning in the Annotation of St. Ignatius. From what has been said it is clear that in a retreat according to the tradition of the Spiritual Exercises the confessional will play an important part because the work of direction will be done there. From the beginning then the director should make that fact evident. He should do what he can to get the exercitant to speak freely about his interior life. Whether .because of a certain natural reserve or because of a want of practice, many people find it very difficult to open their souls. The skilled director should have acquired means of dealing with these inhibited souls who have been locked up in themselves. There are certain leading questions which may help to split or melt the shell of reserve they have built around their interior life, questions which may set them thinking that the occasion may mean more than the telling of their sins and that there might be some benefit in revealing their state of soul to the gaze of a skilled and sympathetic director. "Are you satisfied with your progress after so many years .of religious life? Do you realize practically what your vocation de-mands of you? Have you been disappointed with religious life? Could you describe your way of prayer? Have you noticed a change in your prayer since the noviceship? What do you think is the strongest attraction which God exercises on you? Are you satisfied with living the daily routine superficially without much advertance to the general purpose of your religious life, which is perfection? Do you realize that perfection consists in charity? What is your idea of being a saint?" Questions like these will often come with a kind of revelation to certain souls. These questions are perhaps a new approach to the spiritual life; they may show a fresh aspect of what had seemed dull and uninteresting. They will often loose tongues which have been atrophied and open up interiors that will benefit greatly by light and air. We may take it that every religious is interested in his spiritual life, that he is prepared to talk about it if he knows how to do so and if he sees that another is taking an interest in him and is prepared to help him. This power of unlocking consciences is a part of the endowment of the director. It will, of course, be possessed in unequal measure; but every priest who gives the Exercises should try to cultivate it. There is another aspect of this attention to direction in a retreat which is worth emphasizing. The obvious handicap which the giver of the Exercises has to start with is the fact that they 165 HUGH KELLY Review [or Religio~8 are well known to his hearers. Most of these have made the Exer-cises before, perhaps many times. The foundation, sin, the kingdom, the standards -- they have been over that road before and know every step of it well. The strategic value of surprise, so sought after in warfare, must necessarily be sacrificed; there can be no surprise -- substantially -- in the Exercises. One who gives a retreat not based on the Exercises is free from this disadvantage. His hearers live in an atmosphere of expectancy. They troop to every new lecture as travelers to a mystery tour. Such a retreat may well be a series of unexpectancies and even surprises. The director of the Exercises, who has to forego this strategic pedagogic advantage, must try to compensate some other way. What he loses on the swings he must make up on the roundabouts. He will, of course, try to give what freshness he can to his meditations; but it is the Exercises he is giving, and for all his ingenuity most of what he says will be well known to his hearers. But he has another resource in his difficulty; a resource that may well make the retreat something really personal and appealing. He must remember that he is a director. He must try to bring the Exercises home to the needs of the individual soul. He must see to it that the retreat is not merely a set of entertaining instructions; but that the exercitant cooperates with the light and grace that are offered. This is the work of direction which, if skilfully per-formed, can more than make up for the familiarity of the matter. The truest benefit and even interest of a retreat will not come so much from the originality of the conferences as from the degree in which the truths have been assimilated and experienced. This statement is but a free translation of the well-known second Annotation of St. Ignatius which states a principle of the highest importance for prayer: "for it is not to know much, but it is to understand and savor the matter interiorly, that fills and satisfies the soul." This savor or taste of spiritual truths, this personal appreciation of the ways of God, does not come as a matter of course with the hearing of a discourse; it presupposes a distinctive personal effort. It will come from a sensitiveness of the exercitant, to which the action of the director will greatly ~ontribute. When it comes it is the true measure of the value of the retreat. It has made new and fresh some truths which were thought to be old and worn. The truths which St. Ignatius strung together in the pattern which constitutes the Spiritual Exercises and which had such an astounding effect on men like Xavier and Faber and Canisius 166 May, 1960 DIRECTOR OF THE RETREAT were not new truths; they belonged to the general Christian tradi-tion. The originality of St. Ignatius is that by means of the pattern and system he has given to these truths he can communicate to others something of the force and power that he himself got from them. His presentation of these truths presupposes the cooperation of the director. A person might read the book without feeling any particular enlightenment or enflaming of soul. The Exercises, if they are to produce their effect, must be given, administered; delivered, not merely read or heard. If that cooperation which St. Ignatius and tradition assigned to the director ceases to be forthcoming, then the Spiritual Exercises will lose one of the chief conditions of their efficacy. Without the work of the discernment of spirits in which the director has a necessary role, the Exercises are nothing, says P~re Laplace. "They will perhaps furnish an occasion for prayer in silence, for learning how to examine one's conscience and make a good confession. These advantages are not to be despised, but it is not necessary to go ~o St.~ Ignatius to get them.''~ The Exercises promise a greater, rarer spiritual benefit, but on condition that they are made in their true conditions. 80p. cir., p. 48. 167 Survey of Roman Documents R. F. Smith, S.J. THIS ARTICLE will give a survey of the documents which appeared in the December, 1959, issues of Acta Apostolicae Sedis (AAS). All page references throughout the survey will be to the 1959 AAS (v. 51). Encyclical on the Missions Under the date of November 28, 1959 (pp. 833-64), John XXIII issued the encyclical Princepspastorum. The new encyllcalwas occasioned by the fortieth anniversary of Pope Benedict XV's apostolic epistle on the missions, Maximum illud; to a large extent the encyclical of the present Pope is a reiteration and confirmation of the mission principles laid down in Benedict XV's document. The first principal division of the encycEcal is concerned with the need of a native hierarchy and clergy in mission lands. John XXIII recalled with gratitude the great increase in native clergy since the publication of Maximum illud. The Pope noted that the first Asian bishop was consecrated in 1923 and that Vicars Apostolic were taken from the native African clergy in 1939. Up to the year 1959, 68 Asian bishops had been consecrated and 25 African bishops. Statistics re-garding native clergy are even more impressive. In 1918 there were 919 native priests in Asia; by 1957 that number had increased to 5,553. In the same year, 1918, Africa had 90 native priests, while by 1957 their number had increased to 1,811. John XXIII then went on to urge the present members of the native hierarchy and clergy in mission lands to exercise their priesthood faithfully. He exhorted them to preach to their people about the dignity and greatness of the priesthood and to urge them to pray the Lord of the harvest to send more laborers into the field. The Vicar of Christ also noted that missionary lands stRl need the help of priests from other countries; such priests are not to be regarded as strangers, because every priest finds his fatherland wherever the kingdom of God is beginning or flourishing. The second principal part of the encylical emphasizes the necessity of a thorough training for the native clergy of missionary lands. This training, the Pope insisted, must first of all provide for the sanctity of the native clergy, for it is chiefly by sanctity that a priest becomes the light of the world and the salt of the earth. After sanctity, the most important thing is a solid and complete intellectual training of the native clergy. In this connection the Pope noted that the seminary training should not take place in localities too distant from the society of other 168 I~OMAN DOCUMENTS men, for the native clergy must be led to understand their people and should be trained to take over their leadership. The seminary training of the native clergy should give adequate time to the study of missiology, according to the wishes and directives of Benedict XV and the following pontiffs. The native clergy should be encouraged to baptize the native culture; like Matthew Ricci, they should be so educated in an under-standing and appreciation of the native culture that they will attract their countrymen to the truth of Christianity. The native clergy should be trained to use all means of mOderu communication for the spread of Christianity, and they should be given studies of social matters so that they will be equipped to establish a Christian social order in their countries. In concluding this part of the encyclical, John XXIII warned the native clergy that like all priests their first love must be for the whole world and not for their own country; otherwise they will be tempted to love their earthly fatherland more than their heavenly one. The third part of the encyclical is concerned with the native laity of missionary countries. It is not sufficient, the Holy Father emphasized, to convert and baptize large numbers of persons; they must also be trained to work for the present and future increase of the Church. The number of Christians, he said, is insignificant if their quality is low and if they do not bear fruit. Christian education must show the laity the greatness and grandeur of their faith so that they will be inspired to the practice of virtue and of the apostolate. A true Christian must realize that his first and fundamental duty is to be a witness to the truth that he believes and to the grace which has transformed him. It is in the light of this, remarked the Pope, that one must understand the words of St. John Chrysostom: "No one would be a pagan, if we were worthy Christians" (Tenth Homily on i Timothy, Migne PG, v. 62, col. 551). This testimony of the laity, the Pope added, must be given not only by individual Christians but also by the Christian community as such. This will be done especially by a manifestation of that Christian charity which surpasses all distinctions between nations and languages and embraces all men, whether friend or enemy. The fourth principal part of the encyclical considers the training of the laity in the apostolate. This training, the Pope said, should begin from the earliest moments with special emphasis on it at times like the occasion of the administration of the sacrament of confirmation. The Pope praised the work of lay catechists, saying that their work is perhaps the most important apostolate exercised by laymen. He also called for the establishment of Catholic Action on the missions, but warned that it must be adapted to the conditions and necessities of each country. He also noted that Catholic Action does not exclude the possiblity that laymen themselves have varying degrees of direction and administration in it; indeed members of the laity who show signs of leadership should be educated for such direction and administration. The laity must be taught that the influence of Christian doctrine must be manifested in 169 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious the area of public questions, especially those concerning schools, as-sistance to the poorer classes, and the administration of public affairs. The Pope also called for the formation of lay groups in missionary countries to study doctrinal, social, and apostolic matters. In con-cluding this section of the encyclical the Pope urged laymen of the entire Christian world to give serious consideration to means and methods of helping their fellow laymen of missionary countries who have just been converted; and he exhorted bishops to give adequate care to laymen from the missions who may be studying in their dioceses. In the fifth and concluding part of the encyclical, the Holy Father asked the entire Christian world to continue and to increase their aid to the missions. He also urged bishops to allow priests who have a vocation to the missions to follow their desire, even when there is a scarcity of priests in the diocese. In the same way bishops should be ready to let outstanding laymen of their dioceses go to the missions. The final paragraphs of the encyclical are devoted to encouraging missionaries in those countries which are presently persecuting the Church. Allocutions and Messages On November 22, 1959 (pp. 903-7), the Holy Father addressed a gathering of Italian seminarians. In the course of his speech to them the Pontiff offered them a three-point program of life. As future priests they must be characterized first of all by purity of heart. This, he said, has an attractiveness that is irresistible for souls. This purity ofheart, he continued, is the atmosphere in which every serious vocation lives. It is an indispensable conditon for a disinterested service of one's neighbor; .it prepares the incomparable joy of long periods of prayer at the foot of the tabernacle; and it adorns the priest with the attrac-tiveness of Christ Himself. The second need for the priest, the Pope continued, is strength of character. The priest, he pointed out, requires a steellike quality of character and will, for he must engage in a con-tinuous struggle against his passions and his egoism. Future priests must be able to resist the attractions and seductions of the world, and they must be masters of themselves in every situation. Finally, the Pope said, the last mark of a priest must be the ardor of his charity. Charity, he noted, is the fulfillment of the law; hence it is necessary for the faithful fulfillment of one's daily duties, whether these be large or small Charity sustains a priest's obedience to his bishop and makes him Serve his diocese without thought of earthly and human returns. It is also this charity, he told his audience, that will keep a seminarian from giving way in the face of the difficulties he finds in his life of prayer and study. On November 18, 1959 (pp. 867-70), John XXIII add~ressed a gathering of ecclesiastical censors of books. He told them that their work was directed to the discovery of genuinely human and Christian 170 May, 1960' I~OMAN DOCUMENTS values and to the rejection of error and the danger of error. Accordingly their work is a real .pastoral: occupation, participating in the solicitude of the Church to guide and instruct her children in truth. The Pontiff told his listeners, that they must possess a sane realism as well as an apostolic sense and told them to avoid an intransigent severity which scourges but does not encourage. Finally he'suggested to them that their motto in their work should be the ancient phrase: Unity in necessary things; liberty in uncertain things; charity in everything. On NoVember 29, 1959 (pp. 909-11), the Vicar of Christ radioed a message~ to the First National Congress of Cuba and the General As-sembly of the Catholic Apostolate. He told his listeners (who had just received Communion in a body) that since they had just taken the Bread which is Christ, they must have but one heart and one soul, being conscious of themselves as the sons of the one Father. The face of the earth, he continued, would be changed if true charity reigned in the hearts of men. Hatred, he added, brings only the bitter fruits of death, while love establishes social peace. On November 10, 1959 (pp. 865-67), the Pontiff addressed members of the Food and Agriculture Organization. He told his listeners that they were engaged in a true work of mercy, for their purpose is to assist the most unfortunate of human beings -- those who are hungry. He also told them that theexistence of their organization is one of the great signs of the awakening of social consciousness and responsibility in the modem world. The Pope concluded his allocution by praising the combination of realism 'and optimism that marks the work of the organization. On December 6, 1959 (pp.' 908-9), the Pope gave a short address to President Eisenhower, then visiting the Vatican. Miscellaneous Documents Under the date of May 29, 1959 (pp. 871-74), the Sacred Congrega-tion of Rites approved the introduction of the cause of the Servant of God, Guido Maria Conforti (1865-1931), archbishop-bishop of Parma, founder of the Pious Society of St. Francis Xavier for Foreign Missions. By a decree of the Sacred Congregation of the Council issued on Decem-ber 3, 1959 (p. 918), the privilege was granted to all Catholics to change the fast and abstinence of December 24 to December 23. On November 23, 1959 (p. 921), the Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary announced that a partial indulgence of three hundred days could be gained once on the wedding day only (cf. 1960 AAS, v. 52, p. 62) by married couples who with contrite heart kiss the marriage ring 6f the wife and say the follow-ing prayer or one similar to it: Grant, O Lord, that loving You we may love each other and that we may live in accordance with Your holy law. On August 8, 1959 (pp. 915-18), the Sacred Consistorial Congrega-tion published the list of faculties and privileges which have been granted to the Church in Latin America and in the Philippine Islands. 171 VIEWS, NEWS, PREVIEWS Review for Religious The privileges and faculties listed in the document will be in force until December 31, 1969. On November 17, 1959 (p. 920), the Sacred Congregation of Seminaries and Studies declared that a university entrusted to the diocesan clergy or to a religious family depends on the same congregation, even if the university has not been granted canonical erection. Finally the Secretary of State issued on November 16, 1959 (pp. 875-76), the statutes which are to regulate the activity of the newly founded Vatican Film Library. The purpose of the library will be to collect movies and television films concerning the following topics: the Pope, his representatives, and the Roman Curia; apostolic and charitable activity in the Church and cultural works promoted b~ Catholics; the religious life of the world; all works of high artistic and human quality. Views, News, Previews Correction: Missionary Servants AN,V, EieDwIsT, ONRewIAs,L P EreRviReOwRs, ,p iang teh 2e 8J,a oncucaarsyi oisnseude t hoef tfhoell oRw~i.nvgx ~in.w- , formative letter from Fathe~ David O'Connor, M.S.SS.T.: "Surprise and laughter, mixed with a little downright masculine indignation, was the response to our Congregation being referred to as the Missionary Sisters of the Most Holy Trinity! Actually, our oi~cial title is Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity (M.S.SS.T.). We have 230 priests and brothers engaged in missionary works and activities in fourteen states (mostly in the Southern dioceses), the District of Columbh and Puerto Rico. Our motherhouse is now in Silver Spring, Maryland. Our sisters community, Missionary Servants of the Most Blessed Trinity (M.S.B.T.), has its motherhouse in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Over five hundred sisters labor in missionary, hospital and charity work throughout the United States, Puerto Rico and Cuba. They have a modern, distinct habit without the customary veil. The sisters have charge of the charity bureaus in many dioceses and arch-dioceses in the eastern section of our country. It was never the inten-tion of the founder, Father Thomas A. Judge, C.M., to establish two religious congregations. His interest and attention were given to foster~g the lay apostolate among souls who wished to dedicate themselves to this type of work for the Church. When some of these began to live a community type of life, they asked him to petition the proper ec-clesiastical authority to erect them as a religious community. Along with his two religious communities, the lay apostolate group in our Missionary Cenacle family continues to grow and expand. There are well over 1,500 members active in many sections of the country." 172 May, 1960 VIEWS, NEWS, PREVIEWS Summer Institutes and Courses Catholic University of America: The Mari~logy Program will be offered for the fourth time in the 1960 summer session. Registration dates are Jtme 22 to 25; classes begin June 27 and end with examinations, August 4 and 5. Courses are open to both undergraduates and graduates, with credits applicable towards degrees inthe field of religious education. A certificate is awarded those who complete a full two-summer program in the theology of our Blessed Lady. The lectures are under the direction of the Reverend Eamon R. Carroll, O.Carm, assistant professor of sacred theology at Catholic University and past president of the Mariological Society of America. Scheduled for 1960 are: "Advanced Mariology" (two credits) covering privileges of the Virgin Mary such as freedom from inherited and personal sin, fullness of grace, assumption, queenship, and the current question of the Mary-Church relationship; and "Marian Doctrine of Recent Popes" (two credits) covering analysis of papal statements of the past century, such as the Ineffabilis Deus of Plus IX, on the Immaculate Conception, the major rosary encyclicals of Leo XIII, the Ad diem illum of St. Pius X on spiritual motherhpod, the LUX veritatis of Plus XI on divine maternity, the Munificentissimus Deus of Pius XII on the assumption, and the Grata .recordatio of John XXIII on the rosary. A folder with full informatioK is available from the Registrar, The Catholic University of America, Washington 17, D.C. Dominican College, San Rafael, California: Registration for the summer session will take place on June 25 and 26. The session will close on August 3. An extensive undergraduate program leads to the Bachelor of Arts degree. The degree of Master of Arts may be gained in the fields of education,_ English, biochemistry, history, and religion. The graduate program in theology is under the direction of the Domin-ican Fathers of the Holy Name Province. The classes are open to grad-uate students who wish to benefit from them as well as to those who are taking the full program. For the summer of 1960, Father P. K. Meagher, O.P., S.T.M., will give a course in the Epistles of St. Paul; Father J. P. Kelly, D.P., S.T.M., courses in liturgy and ascetical theology; Father John Fearon, O.P., S.T.L., a course in canon law. Four courses will be available for those interested in the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine. Workshops are planned in drama, children's literature, music, and physical education. Religious who wish an M. A. degree from the Catholic University of America may take courses and satisfy all requirements at the Pacific Coast Branch on the Dominican College campus. Three large dormitories are available for sisters, and a new dining room for sisters, priests, and brothers. For the summer session announcement, write to Sister M. Richard, O.P., Dominican College, San Rafael, California. For~lham University: The Tenth Annual Institute on Religious and Sacerdotal Vocations will be held on the campus of Fordham University 173 VIEWS, NEWS, PREVIEWS Review for Religious on Wednesday, July 13, and Thursday, July 14. Priests, religious, and the laity interested in stimulating, encouraging, and promoting voca-tions to the priesthood or religious life are invited to be present. The Fifth Annual Workshop for the Mistresses of Novices, Postulants, and Junior Professed will be held from Monday, July 18, until Friday, July 22, inclusive. The lecturers will be the Reverend Martin J. Neylon, S.J., Novice Master, St. Andrew-on-Hudson, Poughkeepsie, New York; Reverend Edmund J. Hogan, S.J., Chairman of the Department of Theology, Fairfield University, Fairfield, Connecticut; Reverend Joseph G. Keegan, S.J., Department of Psychology, Fordham Uni-versity. The topics to be discussed will be: The Adjustment of the Novice, Prayer, Emotional Maturity in Religious. The Fourth Annual Workshop for Local Superiors will be held from Monday, July 25, until Friday, July 29, inclusive. The lecturers will be Reverend Edmund J. Hogan, S.J., Reverend Joseph G. Keegan, S.J, and Reverend John F. Gilson, S.J., Vice-Chairman, Division of Educational Psychology, Measurements, and Guidance, School of Education, Fordham Uni-versity. The topics to be discussed will be: Prayer, Emotional Maturity, The Spiritual Ideal of the Local Superior. Address all communications to: Reverend John F. Gilson, S.J., Director of Institutes and Workshops, Fordham University, New York 7, New York. Gonzaga University, Spokane, Washington: The summer session for 196o will include three two-week institutes for sisters: "Writings of St. John of the Cross" conducted by Fathers Louis Haven, S.J., and Michael McHugh, S.J., from June 20 to July 1; "Understanding Human Nature," by Fathers Van Christoph, S.J,, and John Evoy, S.J., from July 5 to July 15; "The Last Things," by Fathers Joseph Conwell, S.J., Leo Robinson, S.J., and Vincent Beuzer, S:J., from July 18 to July 29. There will also be a two-week institute for priests from July 18 to 29 in the mornings, on psychological guidance, conducted by Fathers John Evoy, S.J., and Van Christoph, S.J. 'For information about the second year of the Master of Arts program in Sacred Theology (five summer cycle) write to the Reverend Joseph Conwell, S.J., Chairman, Gonzaga University, East 502 Boone Avenue, Spokane 2, Washington. Immaculate Conception Seminary, Conception, Missouri: A pastoral institute will be held this summer for priests and clerics in major orders, both diocesan and religious. The full coursewill'run for eight weeks, June 19 to August 14; however, any number of two-week periods may be attended. The institute is designed to furnish instruction beyond the regular four-year course in theology. For the religious who attend, the days of class may count toward the days of formal instruction required by the apostolic constitution Sedes sapientiae and the annexed Statuta generalia. For information on the institute write to: Director of the Pastoral Institute, Conception Seminary, Conception, Missouri. 174 May, 1960 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Saint Joseph's College, Rensselaer Indiana: An Institute of Liturgical Music, largely modeled after,the Corso Ordinario of Gregorian Chant of the Pontifical Instittite 6f Sacred Music in Rome~, has been initiated. The institute will be held every summer; this year, from June 20 to July 30. The program is open to priests, brothers, sisters, seminarians, lay men' and lay'women. It will offer a comprehedsive program of theory, chant, polyphony~ organ, and so forth, leading to the Bachelor of Arts d'~gree in Liturgical" Music for those students Who have a bachelor's degree from a recognized college or university, or to a Certificate in Liturgical Music for tho~e who do not have a bachelor's degree. All courses in chant and polyphony will be taught by instructors who have been schooled in the Pontifical Institute of Sacred Music in Rome. The faculty Will include Fathe~ Lawrence Heiman, C.PP.S., of St. Joseph's College and chah~nan of the Institute;, Father Eugene Lin-dusky, O.S.C,, of Crosier Seminary, Onamia, .Minnesota; and Mr. Noel Goemanne, choir director and organist'at St. Rita's Church, Detroit, Michigan. Fathers Heiman and Lindusky hold degrees from the Pon-tifical Institute in Rome, Mr. Goemanne, a former student of Flor Peeters, holds a Laureate from Lemmens Institute in Mechelen, Bel-gium. Further',Inform~tion may be obtained by writing to Father Lawrence Heiman, C.PP.S., St. Joseph's College, Rensselaer, Indiana. ( uestions and Answers [The following answers a~e given by Father Joseph F. (~allen, S. J., professor of canon law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland.I The following questions and ariswers are a continuation of the series on local houses and local superiors which was begun in the March, 1960, issue of the RsvI~.w. 15. We are a clerical exempt order. We have a parish, high school, and'college under the one religious superior. Therefore, there is only one canonically erected house and only one moral person. What permissions do we need to transfer the college classrooms to a location two miles distant from the present location but within the same diocese? Must we have a further permission later when the college faculty begins to reside at the new location while re-maining, however, under the authority of one and the same local superior as at present? This is a question of a separated establishment (c. 497, § 3). Sep-arated establishments, whether built or opened, that is, to be constructed or used as such in a building already constructed, demand for validity the special written permission, of the ordinary of the place of the estab-lishment. For validity, the permission must be in writing; and the argument is the same as that given in Question 11. This permission 175 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious of the ordinary is sufficient for any institute, even if exempt (cf. Question 13). The permission is special in the sense that it must be distinct from that given for the canonically erected house to which the establishment is attached. These establishments may be for any purpose whatever, for example, all types of schools; hospitals; clinics; orphanages; homes for the aged, the poor, or delinquents; recreation centers; places for the education of candidates for the institute, and so forth. Their two distinctive notes are that they are separated from and are part of the canonically erected houses to which they are attached. If they are not separated, for example, to be located on the same grounds, no permission of the local ordinary is necessary, unless such a work was excluded in the permission for the religious house. Separation was defined in Ques-tion 2. If they are to be canonically erected houses, all the formalities described above in Questions 11-13 are necessary. All strictly filial houses obviously come under the. present heading, since they are merely separated establishments in which the religious reside. Authors frequently presume that all such establishments are filial houses, that is, that the religious reside in them. This is not always true, for example, as in the present question, religious have begun colleges at a distance from their house without residing in the college for a considerable period after its opening. No added permission would be necessary to begin residence in such a case, since this is not a formal external change in the establishment nor in itself anything that demands an immediate change of the establishment into a canonically erected house. If a small school is opened by a parish or diocese and sisters residing in another house are engaged simply to teach in it, the special permission of canon 497 is not required, because the institute itself did not build or open this establishment. The special permission will be necessary if and when the sisters are to reside in the small house as a filial house. It is more probable that a separated establishment or filial house should be located at least within the same diocese as the canonically erected house of which it is part, since the canon demands a special written permission for either of these, that is, one distinct from that given for ,the canonically erected house, and thus appears to state that the same local ordinary is to give both permissions. Several' authors exclude a long distance between the canonically erected house and its dependencies. They argue that otherwise the dependence would be apparent rather than real and that the members of the filial house would not be able to exercise their rights in the canonically erected house (cf. Question 6). Neither of these arguments appears to be certain. The dependence of the filial house is less when the authority of the one in charge is delegated by a higher superior, as may be done and is the practice in centralized institutes. It is certainly the practice of religious institutes to locate especially filial houses at a distance and in other dioceses, and constitutions approved by the Holy See contain no general 176 May, 1960 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS norm contrary to this practice. When a separated establishment or filial house is to be located in