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Issue 67.2 of the Review for Religious, 2008. ; Challenges Witnessing Being Disciples Ignatian Exercising QUARTERLY 67.2 2008 Re view for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to liveaccording to charisms, of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paulvl said_, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ° Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2008 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib S'(/'D QUARTERLY 67.2 2008 contents prisms 116 Prisms 118 134 challenges No Escape from Finitude John Navone SJ reflects about our struggle for human growth, our development with all its limitations, !n relation to our transformation through the risen Christ. Personal and Group Reflection Being Burned by the Fire Mary Joseph Schultz SCC ponders candles and fire and their symbolism in our spiritual life and growth. 114 140 159 witnessing Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley Avis Clendenen explores episodes from the lives of two churchwomen, the 12th-century Benedictine H]ldegard of Bingen and the 19th-century founder of the'Sisters of Mercy, Catherine McAuley, which show the duty and daring needed then and now in leadership that is transforming and transformational. Weavers of God: The Warp and the Weft Jeanne McNulty SFO, OCV, draws upon the art of weaving as an image of effort and pattern in our spiritual life. Review for Religious 165 173 181 being disciples Discipleship, Faith, and Commitment Damian C. Ilodigwe shows how Peter's forthright confession of Jesus as Son of the living God accentuates the importance of personal encounter with the Lord for authentic discipleship. Personal and Group Reflection Seeing with the Eyes of Christ Peter Schineller sJ suggests some practical ways that the imitation of Christ can become our way of seeing, thinking, and acting with the eyes, mind, and hands of Christ. The Celibate Aunt or Uncle: Another Blessed Vocation John J. Fisher OSFS describes the grace and gift of family as not only enriching our vocation as religious but also defining who we are as we minister to our wider, extended family in our various apostolates. Personal and Group Reflection 190 196 ignatian exercising What Is a "First Week Retreat"? David L. Fleming SJ presents a way of understanding the First Week of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, often called "sin week," as a time that is about deepening a relationship with God. Is the Church Ignatius's Fourth-Week Focus? J. Thomas Hamel SJ suggests that the Fourth Week of the Ignatian Exercises, which deals with the appearances of the risen Christ, might take' on a more ecclesial look as a kind of triptych. departments 204 Scripture Scope: The Letters and Theology of Paul 209 Canonical Counsel: The Lacuna Canon 215 Book Reviews lly 67.2 2008 prisms O~ 2 February 1974, Pope Paul VI issued his apostolic exhortation Marialis cul-tus. Following up on the liturgical reforms of Vatican I1, the pope desired to identify clearly the age-old norm for all theological and devo-tional development regarding the place of Mary in our Catholic lives. As the pope wrote, "In the Virgin Mary everything is relative to Christ and dependent upon him. It was with a view to Christ that God the Father from all eternity chose her to be the all-holy Mother and adorned her with gifts of the Spirit granted to no one else" (25). The norm is that Mary is always viewed in her relation to Jesus. Liturgical art, both Eastern and Western, has traditionally portrayed Mary with Jesus in its icons, statues, and paintings. It appears that it is only in the 19th and 20th centuries, espe-cially with the Lourdes and Fatima devotions, that the statues and paintings picture Mary by herself. The famous tilma-image of Our Lady Review for Religious of Guadalupe from the 16th century is not an exception. Mary is a woman wearing the broad band around her waist that signifies her pregnancy. Appropriately, then, our traditional imaging of Mary is always stressing her basic title from the earliest church councils. She is Theotokos--the Greek word meaning "the one who bears God." Mary is the first of the apostles; she is always the one who brings Jesus (God) to whom-ever she goes. From our New Testament account, we know that the event we identify as the Visitation follows immediately upon the Annunciation. Mary brings Jesus to her cousin Elizabeth, who is pregnant with John the Baptist. Mary's place in all our Christian lives remains the same as it was for Elizabeth. She is a woman always on mission. She brings Jesus (God) to us. As a result, she remains for each one of us a model of our own Christian vocation. We all are meant to be like Mary in the light of our baptism in Christ. We too are "theotokoi"--people who bring Christ to whomever we go. We are like Mary, our model. We, too, are always on mission. We bring Christ by our way of speaking and acting or just by our way of being present to others. In every situation of our daily living, we Christians are on mission, bringing Christ to others. David L. Fleming SJ Miss Jean Read, an RfR staff member from 1975 to 1998, died peacefully on 23 February 2008 at the age of 96. Answering the office phone, she was the soul of friendliness and readiness to accommodate people in whatever questions or needs or desires they had. She was a proofreader par excellence. We can have a healthy envy of her and her long and good life. 67.2 2008 JOHN NAVONE challenges No Escape from Finitude Life stories, true life stories, involve a struggle from the start. We have complex relationships to work out with the members of our family. We are marked by our early experiences for the rest of our lives, even though changes occur in the way we perceive events, imagine ourselves, understand others, and choose to act at various stages of our life. As our life goes on, changes become more and more difficult. 1181 Human Authenticity Calls for Struggle People hope to grow in sensitivity and responsiveness to true values, but such growth is not inevitable. There are human failures and mediocrities. Continuous development varies with people's roots, their opportunities, their good fortune, their adroitness in avoiding set-backs. People can come to recognize harmful, John Navone SJ has written for this journal for more than four decades. His address is Via Silvio Spaventa, 4; 50129 Firenze; Italy. Review for Religious dangerous, and misleading satisfactions for what they are and drop them. They can choose not to let discom-fort, pain, and privation obstruct their pursuit of true values. They can discover values they had previously overlooked. They can move beyond mere personal tastes and interests to benevolence and beneficence towards others. They can disdain rationalizations, open them-selves to things as they are, and help themselves and others to become what they should be. This is a matter of creative tension struggling towards personal integration. Various conflicting claims and urgencies divide us. Our human relationships can-not be free of all constraint or ambiguity. Our authentic personal development needs questions and problems no less than answers and solutions. In fact, every answer and solution prepares us for the creative tension of fur-ther questions and problems. We develop when we are steadily oriented toward goals which strain our personal resources and are truly worthwhile. Tension between Desires and Limits We experience a tension between our desires and our limits. Desire, imagination, and inquiry would seem to have no fixed limits; a corollary of the absence of limits would be the absence of any need to choose. We learn from experience which desires are impractical and to be dismissed. False or exaggerated ideals, desires, and plans could lead to negative consequences, and so we deliberate about what actually can be implemented. We settle on a possible course of action and proceed. Such a decision implies the acceptance of limits. As G.K. Chesterton wrote: "Every act of will is an act of self-limitation. To desire action is to desire limitation. In that sense every act is an act of self-sacrifice. When ,I19 67.2 2008 Navone * No Escape from Finitude Christian faith does not believe that the tension between desire and you choose anything, you reject everythingelse . If you become King of England, you give up the post of Beadle in Brompton." Goods chosen imply goods renounced. Our decisions ratify and increase our.limitations. Our commitments imply our acceptance of limitation. Our desires, hopes, dreams, and ideals strain against that limitation, but limits remain even when our desires are fulfilled. Jesus Christ, the paradigm of Christian faith, never sought exemption from limits, decisions, or death. Christian faith is lived in the concrete realities of finitude and resists flight into illusion. With no escape from finitude, it relies on God's will and grace. Our actions are sustained by desire of some kind. We seek to attain something we deem good, straining __ against limits. Changing our-selves or our situation implies an ideal which limits should be resolved by differs from our present reality. eliminating desire. This ideal must have come to terms with lim-its; if not, it would remain an empty dream. Christian faith does not believe that the tension between desire and limits should be resolved by eliminating desire. A contemporary theologian says: "For Buddhism, the supreme perfection is to kill desire. How distant the men of the Bible, even those closest to God, seem from this ideal! The Bible is, on the contrary, filled with the tumult and conflict of every form of desire D.e.sire is essential and ineradicable." 120 Review for Religious The Challenge of Serious Decision Making Often our reluctance to make serious decisions and choices is less a fear of suffering than a secret dread that permits few illusions or certainties about what will fol-low. We share with Hamlet the tendency to indefinite postponement; we might, with Heyst in Joseph Conrad's Victory, choose drift. Even that fails. Heyst elect~ some-thing that is not there to elect: security by withdrawal and passivity. Persons who choose to ignore the demands of their circumstances choose what is itself a form of death. Our very needs become known to us as inner tensions, and the way we strive to fill them requires choice. A good choice relieves the tension. Other needs will become evident later, and other choices can attend to them. If our inner tensions imply our need for new deci-sions, our decisions demand awareness and strength. The lack of such strength makes us pathetic. On the other hand, strength is of no use if we are not aware of alternatives. If decisions are to be fully free and human, all that one knows must come into play, and one's will-ingness to detect self-deception. The Second Vatican Council gives expression to the inner tension within which our decision making takes place: The truth is that the imbalances under which the modern world labors are in line with that more basic imbalance rooted in the heart of man. For in man himself, many elements wres-tle with one another. Thus, on the one hand, as a creature, he experiences his limitations in a multitude of ways. On the other~ he feels him-self to be boundless in his desires and sum-moned to a higher life. Pulled by manifold attractions, he is constantly forced to choose among them and to renounce some. (GS §10) 67.2 2008 Navone ¯ No E~cape from Finitude Fear of Insignificance There is a tension at the heart of every human life story, which Ernest Becker describes as the fear of insig-nificance. This tension reflects the human nature at the heart of the life story. As a contemporary author puts it: "Man has a symbolic identity that brings him sharply out of nature. He is a symbolic self, a creature with a name, a life history. He is a creator with a mind that soars out to speculate about atoms and infinity." At the same time, "man is a worm and food for worms." He lives in the tension of his duality. His inner self enjoys freedom of thought, imagination, and the endless reach of symbolism; his body limits, however, determine and bind him. This tension is aggravated by the fact that we are not living among ideal persons in an ideal, world. From the aggra-vation of our basic predicament, we often seek pseudo-solutions to avoid having to face the tragic aspect of life. Rousseau taught the French Revolution that people were good and institutions evil, so reorganize the institutions, and people will be able to be good. He assumed that, by their own unaided efforts, people could create institutions to resolve all their tensions and conflicts. 122 Development within Limits Some lives are more integrated than others; some are more full of conflict. We can search for our own true story only within certain limits of possibility and prob-ability. The recognition and acceptance of these limits is, in fact, the only way to the realization of our true story-- the story most appropriate to our authentic possibilities. Tensions are aggravated when we try to be what we cannot be, when we pretend to be other than we are. They are aggravated at the social level when a political ideology engenders in the masses a passionate hope for a utopia Review for Religious without the means to attain it. Both individuals and societ-ies can miss their true stories through self-deception with regard to their true and limited possibilities. Detachment from self-interest and bias is difficult to achieve. We sense the gap between our possibilities and our actual moral achievements. Awareness of our moral inadequacy cre-ates a tension which we often attempt to resolve through rationalization, a "cover story" that is out of joint with our experience. Guilt, rationalization, and self-deception imply the painful experience of moral finitude in our aspiration toward values and our true possibilities. Creative Crises The personal crises of a life story are often turbu-lent, but they do not necessarily have the disintegrating effect of severe mental illness. The powerful emotions which erupt from a personal crisis can signify a per-sonal liberation from false beliefs and lead to a more productive life'. One can emerge a stronger and better person. Some hardship, suffering, or mental anguish is the lot of everyone. These things are potentially creative; they can help individuals improve the quality of their inner self. Economic prosperity and a good educational system are no guarantee of personal morality, charac-ter, and maturity. People grow by passing through such critical periods as coming of age, getting married, the birth and raising of children, and the advent of bereave-ments, old age, and dying. Frustration, too, may assist personal development, for character and personality are achieved through overcoming difficulties with patience, intelligence, and persistence. Getting all we want when we want it does little towards personal development; it even seems to preclude personal growth. 123 67.2 2008 Navone ¯ No Escape from Finitude Some hardship, suffering, or mental anguish is the lot of everyone: The psychiatrist Kazimierz Dabrowski has developed a theory of mental growth through positive disintegra-tion. He holds that, to achieve a thorough integration of the cognitive, moral, social, aesthetic, and other such human functions, one must undergo a disintegration of a previous integration. The positive disintegra-tion of an integration characterized by biologi-cal determinism, automa-tism, rigidity, stereotyping, and a lack or low degree of consciousness is effected by a growing insight into oneself and others and a con-scious and deliberate adoption of other multilevel and multisided understandings. 124 The Correlative Notion of Self and God Our personal history in the use of the word "God" may reflect a maturation process characterized by criti-cal turning points and creative suffering. Inasmuch as our notions of self and God are correlatives, we may uncover something about our own identity by exploring our encounters with the word "God" in our personal crises. If Christ means "he who saves us from a self-centered existence," personal crises may be prerequisites for finding God's true value in our lives. Concentration on self-preservation and self-satisfac-tion, on what appears to keep us from harm, turns love in on itself and blocks it from going out to God and oth-ers. It is good if our personal crises liberate us to live in society with God and neighbor. Never to be free from self-concern about our slightest needs is the condition Review for Religious of alienation from God and neighbor. It is only in our God-given ability to respond to God's self-surrendering love that we can be free to live and love anything other than ourselves. Personal maturation entails suffering in confronting crises in our lives. Carrying our cross daily implies the Christian conviction that, to understand scriptural truth adequately, we need to experience the cross in our lives. Those who can freely lay down their lives for their ide-als and values are persons who have been strengthened by their Master's mission and by their joyful awareness of being loved by him. Such freedom comes from expe-riencing with others a grand participation in God's life of self-giving love. If our notions of the self and God are correlatives, they alert us to the suffering of others, to the reality of their condition, the condition of all those to whom we are related and whom God loves. The Book of Genesis affirms the goodness of the world when it describes God affirming the goodness of it. The compassion that Jesus felt for the afflicted is the compassion of his Father. Not only our notions but also our feelings about the self and God are cor-relative. A reasonable love for oneself betokens a rea-sonable love for others. Its reasonableness includes a profound awareness of the self as gift, as dependent for its existence on the loving generosity of the Giver. Our personal crises should help us to mature in our under-standing of the love which the Giver expresses in his gift of the self and other selves; they remind us that we are not autonomous monads, that our existence and happiness depend on others. Adrian Hastings affirms that cruel people want a cruel God, and cruelty has been a characteristic of human society: the sadism and masochism of the human 6Z2 2008 Navone * No Escape from Finitude race time after time create a face of God as cruel as itself. Old Testament theology could not be unaffected by the cruel divinities all around and the cruelty of the Israelites themselves; still, Hastings believes, the heart-rending struggle of the Old Testament was to show that such was a false face of God, that Yahweh is not mer-ciless but merciful. Our behavior reflects the face of God that we see. What we do or do not do expresses the meaning of our God-talk; our behavior reflects the healthiness or unhealthiness of our vision. 126 The Face of God in Christ Crucified The face of God is revealed in personal crises. Jesus on the cross reveals the compassionate face of God. "Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father" On 4:18). For Christians the cruelty of the cruel cannot express the nature of God; rather, it is the most outra-geous denial of it. A personal face, the face of Jesus, the suffering and crucified Messiah, is the face of the God of love and compassion. This is the reality which the apostolic church communicates in its preaching: "We preach Christ crucified" (1 Co 1:23). Those who die with Christ rise with him; the cross is the security of Christians. The evangelists speak of the cross in considerable detail, for this is the story of Jesus' ministry making available the way to God. To preach the cross is to preach the resurrection; for it is the message of the cross that sets us free: "dead, yet here we are alive" (2 Co 6:9). On the cross the Son of Man recovered our lord-ship in and over creation, through the obedience for which we Were created. The true face of God is revealed in the Crucified; the loving obedience of Christ is for Review for Religious Christians the model of the perfect self. What Christ has done at Calvary creates and shapes our notion of God, the correlative of our notion of the self that is Christ. Calvary reveals a God who serves his creatures with a compassionate, healing, and community-creating love; it is God giving his life for his people in the high priest who is also victim. Calvary expresses the loving servanthood of God in Christ which gives direction to Christian faith and action. The stoW of Jesus is the stoW of God waiting on us: "The blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them" (Mt 11:5). It is the story of a costly, commit-ted, and constant Love that prevails over death. Jesus' life is the parable of God's rule, the embodiment of God's diakonia. Paul appeals to this when he says, "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ" (Ga 6:2). The way of the cross is the way of Christian maturation in a life of theocentric self-transcendence. It is the way to meet personal and social crises, not a way of escaping them. To preach the cross is to , Treach the resurrection. Communion: God's Purpose for Us All The suffering of Calvary transformed the Jewish con-cept of Messiah among the first Christians. At the Last Supper, Jesus waits on his disciples. The servant who waited at table in Jesus' day was the diakonos. Now Jesus, the master, in washing the feet of his disciples, performs the new diaconal deed, the embodiment of agape: "A new {_/27 67.2 2008 Navone ¯ No Escape from Finitude 128. commandment I give to you, that you love one another even as I have loved you" (Jn 13:34). "As I have loved you" points to God's kind of love, the love of costly self-giving. The diaconal deed of the Last Supper expresses the saving, community-creating love of service and friend-ship. According to John's Gospel, Jesus thought of his disciples as sharing in his diaconal work of cosmic redemption. "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son" (3:16). "In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world" (16:33). "He who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father" (14:12). Communion through Self-Expending Love Acts of self-expending love for others, rather than out-of-the-body experiences, are Christians' usual confir-mation of the life after death that the risen Jesus' appear-ances express: "We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren" (1 Jn 3:14). Paul relates Christ's love to our Christian belief in life after death: "I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rm 8:38-39). The completion of God's purposes for his entire creation and our individual destiny are indivisible, for our lives occur and develop in community. Our lives are incomplete without a depth of fellowship with God and with others, even though this fellowship is only a fore-taste of our joyful participation in God's glorious life, which is the ultimate object of our Christian hope. Review for Religious The Christian vision of God is incompatible with indifference to injustice and the suffering of others. Its vision is of a trinitarian God whose being is in commu-nity, and whose self-expending love creates community. In the light of this vision, salvation is participation with others in the goodness and beauty of God's self-giving love: "Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it so much as dawned on us what God has prepared for those who love him" (1 Co 2:9). Life and Death in the Paschal Mystery For Christians the risen Christ is the focal point of a theme common to all religions, the pursuit or convic-tion of the ultimate nature of reality. The resurrection of Christ is the key to meaningful life in a numinous but incomplete world. This awesome and fascinating event~ysterium tremendum et fascinans--is at the heart of the life coming out of death that is shown in love of our brothers and sisters (1 Jn 3:14). It is the key to understanding the fulfillment of our life stories in the perfect community of God's kingdom, and also to understanding the mission of the church in solidarity with all humankind. The community of Christian faith interprets the life story of Jesus Christ as a divine summons to a personal and social transformation that requires prayer, informed conscientiousness, and appropriate action. Paul is the community's spokesman both when he preaches what God has done for us in Jesus Christ and in his recogni-tion that the "old man," the old self, self-centeredness, does not die a sudden death. There is a phenomenol-ogy of both life and death at every level of our con-sciousness. There are incontrovertible signs of physical death, and there are incontrovertible signs of physical 129 67.2 2008 Na~one ¯ No Escape from Finimde life. There are similar signs at the psychic, affective, intellectual, and spiritual levels of our existence which are perhaps not as readily discerned. Many of the names or titles referring to Jesus are metaphors, Tides for the Life-Enhancing Jesus Metaphor is a way of grasping the unknown through the known, of relating our former experience, to our new experience. Our metaphors say a great deal about what we are, or are like, and about what we are becoming. They can express the self and help in telling life stories. They are a clue to our feelings about our relationships and about the Mystery which is their context. Many of the names or rifles referring to Jesus are metaphors. Jesus defines himself in terms of the life-enhancing effect he has on others, an effect which cre-ates a community. To John's disciples he says: "Go back and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind see again, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, good news is proclaimed to the poor, and happy is the one who does not lose faith in me" (Lk 7:22-23). Jesus is what he does. He is sight for the blind, legs for the lame, purity for lepers, word for the deaf, good news for the poor, and the happiness of the believer. The community of faith manifests the new consciousness that Jesus Christ creates. Jesus' life shows the previous deficiency of individual and communal human existence. People diagnose illness from their awareness of what constitutes good health. Review for Religious Human Transformation through the Risen Christ "Almost twenty centuries have elapsed since the Christ-event took place, and yet no completely satisfy-ing overall explanation of that fact has been proposed," states Joseph Mitros sJ. Theological studies, the sciences, and philosophy have opened new vistas concerning the origin of humankind and its physical and moral state, concerning the problem of evil and liberation from it. These achievements and the data they provide must be evaluated and then integrated into present knowledge before more satisfying answers can be found. There is, however, no doubt among Christians about the risen Christ, the transformation of the apostles, and the community of Christian faith. The apostolic, evangelical, patristic, medieval, modern, and contem-porary theological attempts to explain the Christ-event originate in the reality of Jesus Christ's resurrection. Clement of Alexandria taught that the incarnate Logos illuminates the believer with his own incomparable light. Athanasius and Cyril of Alexandria wrote elo-quently of Christ as the light of the world and as the giver of the Spirit of truth, transforming humankind through enlightenment. There is no single formulation of the .doctrine of the Christ-event in the patristic period. The exemplarist tra-dition describes the effect of the risen Christ primarily as moral regeneration, a redirection of the human mind and heart. The Western liturgical tradition tends to note what Christ's self-giving love has achieved for others. The Eastern liturgies see the event as a rescue and a healing. Christ the victor has enabled us to experience a deliverance from evil, whereas Christ the illuminator explains our entry into a life-giving reality. Humankind has been brought from darkness to light, from blindness 13,1 67.2 2008 Navone ¯ No Escape from Finitude to vision, from bondage to freedom, from turmoil to peace, through our participation in Christ's gift of his Holy Spirit, through our divinization (theosis), through our becoming brothers and sisters of Christ and sons and daughters of his Father. The experience of the lex orandi, of communion with the risen Christ in prayer, stimulates theological reflec-tion on his life story throughout the centuries. It bears witness to tile resurrection as God's action on behalf of humankind and as the transformation of humankind in relation to God. Christian Hope Transcends All Images For every doctrine which sees human lives in rela-tion to Jesus Christ's life stow, the elements of divine and human, of once-and-for-allness and human fulfill-ment, are essential. The saving effect of the risen Christ on our life stories is interpreted according to different models of various cultures throughout the centuries. When they clarify how, through the risen Christ, we may live life more fully, they serve God's people well. The community of faith, however, lives in a state of tension, aware of its limitations. It is only on the way to the fullness of life in the kingdom of God. Our present situation feels precarious, and the future kingdom seems remote. There is .tension between the kingdom to be revealed at the end of history and that same kingdom already present in the Christian faith community and in the lives of individuals going through the stages of their own life stories. Christians live in hope. There is a continuity between this hope and the grace-filled pull of God's eternal kingdom. There is, however, an obscurity surrounding this kingdom. The reason, according to Kevin McNamara, Review for Religious is that the object of our hope is none other than God, the question-raising and question-answering Mystery at the heart of all human life. And so any clear and definite idea of our true future can only be provisional. Christians cannot commit themselves absolutely to any blueprint for human happiness. We are always aware that something is missing, that our true hope eludes all human definition and planning. Josef Pieper says this about hope: "What marks the true hope is that [a per-son] holds himself in readiness for a fulfillment which goes beyond every imaginable human postulate." Hope, nevertheless, experiences the goodness and promise of the Mystery encompassing our life stories. Christian hope, defined by the Christ story, is not without some positive knowledge of what the future kingdom will be like. The titles and names of Jesus, the doctrines and models with which the church discusses our diviniza-fion in Christ, are all attempts to express this positive knowledge of and hope for the kingdom of God. Personal and Group Reflection 1. How have I handled the tension between realizing my desires and, by shutting out other possibilities, experiencing my limits? When have I experienced this tension as bringing me closer to Christ? 2. What is my response to the statement: "The face of God is revealed in personal crises" (p. 126)? 3. What name or title for Jes~s is my favorite? Can I explain the meaning of this title? " 67.2 2008 MARY JOSEPH SCHULTZ Being Burned by the Fire 134] l have come to set the earth on fire, and how I .~. wish it were already blazing" (Lk 12:49). Last year my mind and heart were caught up in this Gospel verse from a Sunday liturgy. Some phrase spoken by the homilist hit a nerve in me and inspired me to pon-der the symbolism and the reality of fire. Why do we use a flame to witness to the Eucharistic Presence in our tabernacles? Why are candles and flames frequent symbols of religious life? What is the primal image of fire saying to me today? How might God use me and my community to set the world ablaze? Open to the Fire Though I have never learned the art of creating fire, I know that kin.dling a flame from scratch requires effort, concentration, and patience. It also requires the proper materials. Using a match is so much easier, but how much more satisfying it must be to create a fire Mary Joseph $chultz SCC last wrote for us in our 65.2 (2006) issue. Her address is Assumption College for Sisters; 350 Bernardsville Road; Mendham, New Jersey 07945. Review for Religious using only rudimentary materials, persistent friction, and breath! Long ago Jesus desired to create a spark in me, at the first beckoning to religious life, when I was a child. He chose me, the most rudimentary of kindling, unknown middle child, shy and backward, plain and unassuming, and invited me to leave home and lend myself to the creation of fire. Calling me to join, at fourteen, a small and little-known religious community in a tiny, obscure New Jersey town, he knew his plan. He desired to use me as kindling, if only I would agree. The dry ordinari-ness of my life could actually catch fire more easily, I suppose. I was easily uprooted and picked up, and will-ingly I came. The chafing and friction began at once. Over these forty years, there has been constant rubbing. Isn't that what community life is for, at least in part? The twig with so many rough edges has lent herself to the Divine Hand. Personalities, assignments, self-knowledge, faults, losses, illnesses, disappointments and shattered idols-- all were offered for the kindling, warmed by the Spirit's breath, and the friction came fast, furious, and constant. How else to create a fire? God rarely uses a match! The twigs of my life were all laid bare, bark removed, and the quickening hand chafed a new spark, a blaze to be used for others. The breath of the Spirit has been ever present, gende, and at times unsettling, fanning the spark into flame. Imagine the patience of God! Most times the liv-ing Wind has been imperceptible to the kindling, stir-ring up smoke and covering its source, always keeping the promise of a blaze alive. Persistent breath needs to change direction if one side is unresponsive. The Breath never gives up in its passionate desire for flame. 135 67.2 2008 Scbultz, ¯ Being Burned by the Fire Eventually the Spirit came with greater urgency, the kindling was in just the right place and disposition for the fire to catch. Now the Breeze was more needed than ever to sustain the blaze, as is still the case. Where would I be without the constancy of the Spirit, nourishing, lighting, stoking the flame, and keeping the blaze alive? As I approach a fire I can choose to take one of three gtances: warmth, risk, or consummation, 136 Coming Close: Warmth, Risk, Consummation As I approach a fire I can choose to take one of three stances: warmth, risk, or consummation. Coming close, especially on a winter day, the warmth is delight-ful. It sets me at ease, calms the shivering limbs, and holds out to me a promise of comfort. I drop my burdens and begin to loosen my wraps, undo the scarves with which I am bound up, and settle in near the comforting warmth. The fireplace can be romantic., a rosy glow to melt away harsh realities and frozen relationships . . . the honeymoon of novitiate days and early ministries when all was right with the world. Soon a promise (threat?) of change creeps into the heart. The Spirit Breath is still blowing. The flames lick higher. Should I choose to back off?. Why risk losing comfort? The rosy glow lulls me, even into a trancelike state. It becomes easy to go through the motions of reli-gious life, near the fire but not in it. Content to observe, being warmed and even nourished, I need to take no risks and I am definitely not consumed. Safety is compromised Review for Religious by getting too close to the Fire, too involved. If I get too near I will be burned. And yet It draws me. I come closer, even at times reach out a hand, and I am singed. Fire purifies, but only when I am close enough. Gold is not refined, iron is not melted, food is not cooked, and a wick is not set alight when kept at a safe distance. I am useless unless I allow the Fire to surround me, catch hold and use me, draw me in to consume. For what else am I saving my life? The flames beckon, even mesmerize, as I contemplate them, but I had better be aware of the risks if I choose to draw closer. The Fire is painful. Over the years when times of suffering enveloped me I have rarely realized the close-ness of God. On the contrary, God seemed utterly dis-tant, mere vapor on the horizon. Only in retrospect did I realize that it was God's closeness and my immersion in the Fire that caused the pain. I could not draw close to a Flame without being burned. Risky? Yes! But also so necessary to be a part of the blaze set upon the earth. Being one with the Fire fulfills my purpose in being. Was I not called to be a holocaust? To remain on the periph-ery, insipid and lukewarm, might be safe, but it is surely not productive. Leaving the rosy, romantic glow of the fireplace to jump into the Blaze is what religious life is all about. I need to be enveloped if I am to be of any use. Being Fire Wood that is caught, right in the middle of the fire, takes on the appearance of the fire itself and loses its own identity. The log glows from within. No longer do sparks dance on the edge, no longer is there only risk of being singed, but now the blaze works its magic from the core. It consumes the willing fuel. Fire and fuel can no longer be separated. 67.2 2008 Schultz ¯ Being Burned by the Fire Leaving the rosy, romantic glow of the fireplace to jump into the Blaze is fohat religious life is all about, 138 Fire burns away the dross and purifies only as much as the wood lends itself. If I resist, roll away, fall off the pile back to a safe distance, my comfort zone, I will not be touched. I will save myself, but for what? I might still feel the warmth as I seek to return to the "safety" of my earlier days. But once I risk being part of a conflagra-tion I cannot go back or run away. My already singed self tells the tale. I had caught the light and begun to burn. Now nothing but total consumption can satisfy me. Why pretend otherwise? I have also learned that seasoned wood burns the best. Wood too moist, too green, too full of sap (self) leaves no room for the flame to take hold. It sizzles, spits, and smokes, too little fire to be of much use. I must let myself be alone to dry, to be cured, even to unfeeling brittleness, as the sap is drained from me and I lie lifeless on the ground, forgotten for the time being. The Stoker of the Fire will again pick me up when I am ready, gather me when I can be of most use, when the flames can really do their job. What does it mean to become Fire? To me it means nothing less than being Jesus, the Light of the world. He is the one who called me, the kindling. He lets me lie at times, unused because I am not yet useful., too green and full of the self-sap that deters the flame. I need to be seasoned, over and over again, dried out and left alone. Only when I am ready will he gather me up Review for Rdigious for kindling, hold me close and breathe his Spirit, all the while applying friction where most needed, turn-ing me this way and that, harder and faster for sparks to catch. There is nothing else for me but to become Fire. In this is my purpose, the purpose, I believe, of all religious men and women. Let God throw me into the Fire. Let Jesus take me over, glow in me, radiate warmth and light, and let me be a part of the blaze ignited by Love on earth. Let me be part of something much bigger than myself. In my consummation my life is fulfilled. Unveiled Hide not Your face. Show me Your face. And though that sight Be my death, I shall live indeed. Show me that incandescent, Altogether lovely face, That earth-splitting, Sky-rending, Fire-kindling face. Be my sole desire, Burn bright in me Until I am molten gold Reflecting only You. Teresa Burleson 139 67.2 2008 AVIS CLENDENEN witnessing Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley Do you remember having a Jeremiah experi-ence once a long time ago? You told God "I am only a youth" and God said, "Be not afraid for I am with you" (Jr 1:4-8). Do you remember that first consciousness of being called, when the clay of youth was moist and malleable? A time when you took for granted that the Potter was on your side, shaping you? When you felt that you and your companions were singing the new church into being? In your commu-nity, do you notice treasure dwindling away? In the anxiety and bewilderment of this our time, how desperately do you seek to prevent further loss? In these days, when I find myself among women and men religious to share faith and 140 Avis Clendenen wrote for us in the September-October issue of 1999. She is professor of Religious Studies at Saint Xavier University; 3700 West 103 rd Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Review for Religious community, I sometimes think of recalcitrant clay and a frustrated Potter. I wonder if some have adapted Jeremiah's words from "too young" to "too old": "Ah, Lord God! I am weary from speaking the truth in love. Our best days are behind us. I am too old." And God says: "Do not say, 'I am too old,' for even now to all to whom I send you you will go; be not afraid, for I am with you to deliver you." Jeremiah would understand and empathize with the disillusionment, even terror, of feeling that life is falling apart. The youthful Jeremiah found himself in the stocks in midlife. His view (Jr 20:1-9) provides a window into his soul. Walter Brueggemann reminds us that it is in prayer that this prophet of deep dispute finds sustenance for his life and ministry; he finds sus-tenance, however, only in continued dispute. Can you imagine the dialogue as Jeremiah struggles with the God who called him to his vocation in the first place?2 Was he not the one to whom Yahweh addressed the lovely words of "knowing him before he was formed in the womb, consecrating him, and appointing him prophet to the nations"? The help in destabilizing situ-ations, Brueggemann proposes, is honest conversation that draws God in deep and thick.3 Brueggemann goes on to say: "This is the very God to whom prayers can be reliably made, not a therapeutic God, not a warm fuzzy, not a dear uncle, but God of hosts, God with hard capacities and stern resolves. Jeremiah prays to and trusts this God, because alone he cannot withstand his persecutors and he will not appeal to a God who is kind but helpless.''4 Jeremiah's confinement is the kiln of his becoming. He finds a deep freedom; he finds duty and daring, cour-age for the next challenge. He is the patron prophet of 141 67.2 2008 lendenen * Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley 142 The Christian faith itself is built upon anamnesis/ best days ever before us, not behind us. What we know about the ministerial vocation is that it keeps unfolding in unexpected ways, that safety is never forever. We will feel fire in our bones from now till the time, as Rahner says, when the harvest of our earthly life is enfolded into the Incomprehensible Mystery of the One past-all- graspness. Until that day we are still in the world's grasp, striving to discern the Spirit's complicity in the losses we experience and to imagine a new vision from the confines of the stocks. How do we tend the fire when the embers are struggling for air? As people of faith we live in anamnesis: the retrieval of deep memory so powerful that reality being recalled from another time becomes present. The antonym of anamnesis is amnesia, the loss of a large block of inter-related memories. It is a catastrophic and sad reality to lose one's memory. People of the Book and those who treasure the long sweep of religious his-tory experience anam-nesis in their liturgical remembering and in the duty and daring of their vocation. The Christian faith itself is built upon anamnesis: "Let us proclaim the mystery of faith: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again." The lyrics of Marty Haugen's "We Remember" capture the why of our charge not to forget: "We remember how you loved us to your death, and still we celebrate that you are with us here" (GIA, 1980). This remem-bering roots us in a permanently meaningful past, holds us meaningfully in the present, and orients us toward the future whose meaning we are called to both wait Review for Religious for and bring about. Such Catholic remembering effects what it signifies by evoking and provoking what Johann Baptist Metz long ago called "dangerous memories." He said there are memories of earlier experiences that break through the center point of our lives and reveal new and dangerous insights for our present. They subvert our structures of plausibility. They are like dangerous and incalculable visitants from the past.5 Dangerous Memories Only those who have been transformed to some degree can be agents of larger transformations. Transformation usually relies on the ordinary forma-tive episodes of our lives. The Jungian scholar Murray Stein says, "The transforming person is someone who realizes the inherent self to the maximum extent pos-sible and in turn influences others to do the same.''6 Such an individual has the substance and style to inspire and elevate others to a greater moral largesse. Relatively few people desire to attain the social consciousness and do the soul-making inner work that would make them transforming and transformational persons. In describ-ing them Stein says, "Their lives show an extraordinary degree of uniqueness, imagination, and pristine indi-viduality." 7 Like the prophets of old, the 12th-century German Benedictine Abbess Hildegard of Bingen and the 19th-century Irish woman Catherine McAuley were two such transforming and transformational individuals with fire in their bones. Both women were-in their early forties when they took their first steps beyond what was toward what could be. Hildegard, a medieval theologian, visionary, and church reformer, and Catherine, the foundress of the Sisters of Mercy, were both fifty-two years old when 143 67.2 2008 Clendenen ¯ Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley they faced and decisively overcame obstacles to bring their visions to fruition. Both developed extraordinary skill in conflicts with church authorities, and, interest-ingly, over three hundred letters of each remain. In short, Hildegard and Catherine are dangerous memories whose legacies of duty and daring remind us of our own often untapped potential. Episodes of duty and daring in the lives of these treasured visitants from the past suggest that they can work in weary souls like oxygen on embers. 1441 Portrait of Hildegard of Bingen On the nine hundredth anniversary of Hildegard's birth in 1998, the Hildegard scholar Barbara Newman wrote: Hildegard is the only woman of her age to be accepted as an authoritative voice on Christian doctrine; the first woman who received express permission from a pope to write theological books; the only medieval woman who preached openly before mixed audiences of clergy and laity with full approval of church authority; the author of the first known morality play, and the only 12th-century playwright who is not anonymous; the only composer of her era known both by name and by a large corpus of surviving music; the first scien-tific writer to discuss sexuality and gynecology from a female perspective; and the first saint whose official biography includes a first-person memoir,s Born in the summer of 1098 in Bermersheim, Germany, Hildegard was thrust upon the stage of life at the close of one century and the dawning of the next. The role of wise women, midwives, h~alers, and coun-selors fell under new suspicions. The practice of seeing the divine in all things was eroding. It was an epoch of spiritual fervor amid the growing corruption of a Review for Religious church bent on the Crusades, which led "poor and frail" women, like Hildegard, to rise up and challenge the clergy to reform. Hildegard wrote prolifically between the ages of forty-two and eighty-one. In addition to two major works on medicine and natural science, Hildegard completed a trilogy of theological works: the multimedia illuminated manuscript for which she is most famous, Scivias (abbreviated from the Latin for Know the Lord's Ways), The Book of Life's Merits, and The Book of Divine Works. She composed seventy-seven liturgical songs and wrote them down in the Symphonia: The Symphony of the ¯ Harmony of Celestial Revelations. Fifty of her homilies are extant. The historian Gerda Lerner says, "The life of Hildegard of Bingen exemplifies the breakthrough of a female genius who managed to create an entirely new role for herself and other women without ostensi-bly violating the patriarchal confines within which she functioned.''9 Hildegard thrived at a time of political and religious tumult not vastly different from our own. "Her sheer force of will," Newman says, "combined with a dazzling array of spiritual and intellectual gifts, a courage hardened by decades of struggle, and a pro-phetic persona, which she displayed in season and out, made her a formidable opponent; and she did not take defeat easily.''~° This could equally be said of Catherine McAuley. Portrait of Catherine McAuley The life and vision of Catherine McAuley, seven [ centuries after Hildegard, provide another deep story 14~ of a woman whose spiritual and intellectual gifts, cour-age hardened by struggle, and prophetic persona made her a formidable opponent; like Hildegard, Catherine 67.2 2008 Clendenen * Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine M~uley Hildegard thrivedat a time of political and religious tumult not vastly differen~ ~om our own. did not take defeat easily. From her childhood to her middle years, she knew what it was like to be forced to the edges of her culture and to experience the prejudice of being Irish and Catholic in an age of intolerance. ~t Catherine's efforts to accomplish something lasting have their roots in the faith and courage with which she faced hardship. She reflected often upon adversity as key to her theology of the cross, the central sym-bol of Christianit~,. Over her lifetime she experienced many losses: her father's death when she was five, their fami-ly's descent into poverty, and her mother's death in 1798, when Catherine was twenty. In 1827 she buried her sister Mary, mother of five children. She cared for her sister's children and outlived some of her beloved nieces and nephews. Inheriting in 1827 the for-tune of a couple she had lived with for twenty years-- and driven by her deep faith, her sense of Christian duty, and her compassion--she built in Dublin the first House of Mercy. Her selection of a site on Baggot Street, in one of the wealthiest and most exclusive sections of Dublin, flouted the as yet unrevoked late-17th-century penal code that prohibited erecting a Catholic building on a main thoroughfare of Irish cities and towns. This proved to be the first step toward the founda-tion, in 1831, of the Sisters of Mercy, many of whom would die from the cholera and typhus that plagued Ireland in those early years. Two letters to her younger, Review for Religious most trusted colleague Frances Xavier Warde provide a window into Catherine McAuley's spirituality of the cross¯ In 1840, after the death of two young novices while a new foundation was being proposed, Catherine wrote, "I suppose all will go on well to shew us that what we think a drawback will be followed by greater progress. If they should have a new foundation--it will not be without the cross.''12 In 1841, offering words of encouragement as Sister Frances faced a challenge to her religious leadership, Catherine reflected: I know it is an affliction to you--but rest assured, God will send some. distinguished consolation¯ This is your life, joys and sorrows mingled, one succeed-ing the other. Let us not think of the means [God] has employed to convey to us a portion of the Holy Cross, being ever mindful that it came from Himself¯ ¯. Far better and more profitable for you to receive with all your heart the cross which God will send you in any form or shape He pleases. I earnestly hope you will receive this trial so as to render it valuable to you.13 Catherine's Decision for George's Hill Catherine McAuley was in her forties when she experienced a defining moment in realizing her vision. The novelty of an intentional community of lay women without religious vows and enclosure brought such neg-ative attention that "the criticism threatened to discour-age young women from joining Catherine's endeavors and thus to undermine the very stability of the works of mercy to which she was committed, including visita-tion of the sick poor in their homes and hospitals.''~4 Catherine began "a long deliberation" on how to pro-ceed. On 8 September 1830 she, Anna Marie Doyle, and Elizabeth Harley entered the Presentation Sisters' con- 147 67.2 2008 Clendenen ¯ Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley vent on George's Hill to serve the canonically required novitiate year before professing religious vows on 12 December 1831 as the first Sisters of Mercy.~5 These fifteen months away from Baggot Street were a pain-ful challenge for the fifty-two-year-old Miss McAuley. She spent the time surrounded by novices more than thirty years her junior. During the last seven months of her novitiate, a very strict mistress of novices made the duties of the time quite burdensome for Catherine. A letter from Mary Clare Moore to Mary Clare Augustine Moore describes the time: Catherine "often said it was so hard a struggle for her to remain [at George's Hill] on account of meeting there many things repugnant to her feelings that had she not the establishment of the Institute most deeply at heart she would (that very e~ce-ning) have sent for a coach to take her back to Baggot Street.''~6 This is a prime example of Catherine's sense of duty reshaping her earlier inclination to dare founding an unenclosed religious congregation. One can imagine how difficult the months of enclosure and silence must have been for a mature woman of such burning vision and apostolic zeal. Centuries earlier Hildegard had a different diffi-cult experience, but one that produced similar daring results. 148] Hildegard's Self-Awakening Following the custom of noble families, Hildegard's parents tithed their tenth child, Hildegard, as a tribute to the Lord when she was eight years old. She pro-fessed her religious vows as a Benedictine nun at the age of fifteen or sixteen. During these formative years, she watched as the original 7th-century Disibodenberg site was reconstructed into a small 12th-century Review for Religious German medieval city. It is interesting to speculate that Hildegard's own desire to found an independent monastery, which she eventually did, had its roots in a mind alert to all the construction going on around her. The physical buildings may have suggested to her young imagination the idea of being a spiritual architect. An unusual child, Hildegard confided in her mentor Jutta: "When I was three years old, I saw an immense light that shook my soul; but, because of my youth, I could not externalize it.m7 This light within her soul she would eventually name the umbra viventis lucis: a spiri-tual gleam or hint of the Living Light, appearing day or night, in full consciousness, and in multicolor brilliance accompanied by a "hearing in the soul." Hildegard, fear-ful of what others would think and what sanctions might be imposed upon her, remained silent with respect to the theological content of her visionary life. This silence and its consequent physical debilitation enfolded itself in Hildegard's daily existence. In 1136, when she was elected abbess, she received a new scope of authority. It was not uncommon for the abbess to be the magis-trate over dual monasteries of both monks and nuns. The authority of medieval abbesses included leaving the enclosure and entering into council with other abbesses. The abbess held spiritual power to bless, proclaim the gospel, instruct, lead Eucharistic processions, and hear the confessions of her nuns. Such powers exercised in Hildegard's time were forbidden a century later and have never again been held by women religious, even to the present day.18 At the age of forty-three, Hildegard finally broke silence on the content of her inner visions. She was "instructed" by the Living Light "to put her hand to writing" and "release the power and mystery of hidden 149 67.2 2008 Clendenen ¯ Duty and DaHng in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley A~ the age of forty-three, Hildegard finally b~oke silence on the content of her inner visions~ and marvelous visions." For the next thirty-eight years, she put her talents and spiritual gifts into both writing and public speaking. An official church commission went to Disibodenberg to examine her partially completed Scivias. The examiners took their findings to the Synod of Trier, where the well-respected Bernard of Clairvaux read portions of the Scivias aloud to the assembled bishops. Bernard urged the pope "not to allow such a brilliant light to be covered by silence, but rather to confirm this charism through his authority.''19 Pope Eugenius III gave Hildegard apostolic license to continue and told her to complete her "divinely inspired" work. (When completed, the Scivias was an illuminated manuscript of twenty-six visions with theological commentary address-ing an array of Christian doctrine.) Such ecclesiastical encouragement freed Hildegard to go forward into an unprecedented future. lyO Duty and Daring Both Hildegard of Bingen and Catherine McAuley successfully negotiated life at the crossroads. Living life on life's terms presents people with challenges to choose well and manage change. Hildegard and Catherine are models of midlife women who took themselves seri-ously as gifted gospel women and resisted the temp-tation toward being insubstantial, toward settling for less instead of more. Hildegard mustered the courage Review for Religious to break from her self-imposed and culturally enforced silence. On the other hand, Catherine chose to embrace the silence of enclosure at George's Hill and the confin-ing duties of the canonically required novitiate so that her vision might find acceptance. Each in her forties possessed an inheritance. Hildegard's was an internal, visionary, prophetic giftedness, and Catherine's was the material gift of £25,000 (a million dollars in today's currency) coupled with her social vision to make a dif-ference for the poor. Their midlife transition brought them to greater vistas of generativity. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke captures this moment when he writes: I love the dark hours of my being in which my senses drop into the deep. I have found in them, as in old letters, my private life, that is already lived through, and become wide and powerful now, like legends. Then I know that there is room in me for a second huge and timeless life.2° Both Hildegard and Catherine consistendy, albeit pain-fully, found within themselves a duty and daring in the daily struggle for what mattered most. Their stories help us do the same. They are dangerous memories. Hildegard's Decision to Leave Disibodenberg Hildegard experienced a vision calling her to leave Disibodenberg and establish her own independent mon-astery. The abbot dismissed the possibility of such an undertaking. Hildegard, in a pattern that marked her life, was stricken with a severe malady. She was filled with energy when she was advancing her outer and inner work and experienced terribly depleting episodes when she was impeded in what she believed to be God's will. Eventually the abbot came to see that the paralysis that 67.2 2008 Clendenen ¯ Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley turned Hildegard's body stonelike was the result of his interference with God's will. He reluctantly conceded, granting his permission for her to proceed. After her move to Rupertsberg in 1150--an excep-tional action for one who described herself as "timid and lacking boldness"--Hildegard made arrangements to acquire complete canonical and legal separation from the monks at Disibodenberg. She wanted to choose the monks who would provide spiritual care for the nuns at Rupertsberg, to keep the dowries from the families of women who joined the order, to call the free election of superiors, to hold the deed to the property, and to be accountable solely to the archbishop of Mainz. She insisted that this (secret) arrangement be put in writ-ing, and she received it from the archbishop and from Frederick Barbarossa, king and emperor of Germany. Hildegard's memory of Disibodenberg's physical recon-struction now took wings. She supervised the erection of a 12th-century monastery with indoor plumbing, a complete sewage system, and a hospice for the sick and dying. The community grew from twenty to fifty nuns. While busy with preaching tours (begun at sixty), managing affairs at Rupertsberg, giving pastoral care to her nuns and others who requested it, writing The Book of Divine Works, and maintaining an active correspon-dence amid secular and religious tumult, Hildegard, fif-teen years after founding Rupertsberg, decided to found another congregation at Eibingen. With thirty nuns she set out down the east bank of the Rhine and established it on a site overlooking Rudesheim and across the river from Bingen. Hildegard kept living at Rupertsberg but traveled twice weekly to Eibingen until her death on 17 September 1179 at the age of eighty-one. Review for Religious Catherine McAuley and the Chaplaincy Crisis The McAuley scholar Sister Mary Sullivan writes, "In the six years since its founding in Dublin on 12 December 1831, the Institute of the Sisters of Mercy had merited episcopal approval and support . But the last months of 1837 were a very painful period in Catherine's life for one specific reason: in September a deep conflict arose between her and Dr. Walter Meyler, parish priest of St. Andrew's Church, over his unwilling-ness to assign a regular chaplain to serve the sacramen-tal needs of the homeless women and girls sheltered in the House of Mercy on Baggot Street"21--a situa-tion similar to Hildegard's centuries before. Catherine thought the continuity of pastoral care very important for both the Sisters of Mercy and the residents of the House of Mercy. "By depriving the House of Mercy a chaplain," says Sullivan, "Walter Meyler had, in effect, removed the possibility of daily, and even Sunday, Mass at Baggot Street. This meant that the forty or more servant women and girls living there had to go out to a parish church on Sundays, with the consequent free-dom to dally in the city and delay their return to the House--the very shelter created to protect them from the sexual and other dangers lying in wait for them on the streets.''22 Catherine wrote to Sister Mary de Pazzi Delaney, "My dearest Sister Mary, will you relieve me from the distressing business about the chaplain? It is constantly before me, and makes me dread going home. I know it is not possible for me to have any more argument with Dr. Meyler without extreme agitation . Do get me through this--don't be afraid.''23 Catherine's cor-respondence with Dr. Andrew Fitzgerald OP notes his seven-word summation of the controversy: "a wanton 67.2 2008 Clendenen * Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine Mc~luley unwarranted abuse of church authority.''24 Catherine wrote to Michael Blake, bishop of Dromore, who sup-ported her rationale for "one individual clergyman" as chaplain to the house and encouraged her to submit her case again. In doing so (to the Rev. John Hamilton), Catherine quoted from a letter she had sent to Dr. Meyler: We were happily at home today in time for all our dif-ferent duties., but our poor young women are still about the streets, taking advantage, to be sure, of the irregularity which has been introduced among them. I will make one more effort., to prevail on the Sisters to accompany me to their Bishop . We will shew what is lost by the change that has been made . This sad alteration in our once orderly establishment cannot fail to excite pity in a mind like his. At eight o'clock on Sunday evening, a letter was handed me from Doctor Meyler. It began thus: "When is your procession to take place? I should like to see the theatrical exhibition--the Bishop must be apprised--perhaps you may not admire the reception you will meet, for he is too straight forward a person to be caught by your Juggle." I read no more and put it out of my power ever to do so by burning the letter. I must now be done with the matter entirely. I will attempt nothing more.25 In a private letter to Frances Xavier Warde in January 1838 about the situation, Catherine said, "It is humiliating no doubt, a smart attack on self-importance, and if this part of it is well managed, it must turn to good account.''26 A few months later Catherine reported to Frances, "Our Mass is celebrated very regularly every day, and the confessions pretty well attended to--but I never feel reconciled to it . Pray fervendy to God to take all bitterness from me. I can scarcely think of what has been done to me without resentment.''27 Review for Religious Crises and Character The substance and style of Hildegard's leadership in moving her community from Disibodenberg and establishing the foundation at Rupertsberg, and the per-sonal cost and art-istry of Catherine's moving through the chaplaincy cri-sis, suggest some-thing important that has a bearing on leadership that would be trans-formational. They had the capacity for liminality and pos-sessed a prophetic passion. The term liminality is taken from the Latin limen, meaning threshold. Angela Bolster RSM defines limin-ality as "all about risk., a countercultural movement on the frontier, opening up new horizons, indicat-ing new possibilities . . . fueled by a new vision of the future.''28 Those on the limen, at the edge of new fron-tiers, can live in ambiguity and perceive opportunity. Like Jeremiah, they learn to bear disquietude and use agitation and anguish as kindling for the flame of zeal. Hildegard broke silence when she could no longer hold in the content of her visions. Catherine's daring social vision took her more than once to the edge of con-frontation with church authority. Their sense of duty provoked in them an adaptability that deepened them as churchwomen and staved off the bitterness, alienation, and cynicism people feel under the weight of perceived Catherine's daring social vision took her more than once to the edge of confrontation with church authority. 67.2 2008 lendenen ¯ Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine McAuley injustice. It is especially poignant when the injustice is meted out at the hands of the church. It is easy to imag-ine each of these liminal women pr~ying with Jeremiah 20:7-9: You have seduced me, Yahweh, and I have let myself be seduced; you have overpowered me: you were the stronger. I am a daily laughingstock, everybody's butt. . . . The word of Yahweh has meant for me insult, derision, all day !ong. I used to say, "I will not think about him, I will not speak in his name any more." Then there seemed to be a fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones. The effort to restrain it wearied me, I could not do it. Both women's large-mindedness enabled them to sus-tain the distress of the life that wanted to live in and through them and, at the same time, animate others to help them realize the possibilities they perceived were of God and worth the cost. The liminal among us often dwell at the edges of society where the anawim of God live. Transforming and transformational leaders find a home among the homeless, in fact and in faith. They bear God's pro-phetic pathos as their own. They bear the cross where they find it, whether in the medieval crusades, the Irish penal laws, or the current building of walls at U.S. bor-ders. The prophetic personality struggles and stumbles but never succumbs to despair because the umbra viven-tis lucis--the gleam of the Living Light--stirs the soul of those who artfully integrate duty with daring and daring with duty. Such transformational persons are of biblical proportions, vessels of Holy Wisdom in every generation (Ws 7:21-28). The 12th-century German Benedictine Abbess Hildegard of Bingen and the 19th-century Irish Mother Catherine McAuley are two such liminal, passionate, and prophetic women. They wit- Review for Religious ness to other courageous lives lived within the difficult confines of changing eras and changing destinies. Their dangerous memories get into the marrow of our bones. Theirs is an irreducible legacy given to us. Their names are anamnetic and, when they come among us today, they are an oasis in the midst of wilderness wandering, bearing witness to the possible future always before us, especially in times like ours. Notes ' Attributed to an insight from Sister Doris Gottemoeller RSM, senior vice president, Mission and Values Integration, Catholic Healthcare Partners, Cincinnati, Ohio. 2 Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers, ed. Anna Carter Florence (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2004), p. 156. 3 Brueggemann, Inscribing, p. 157. 4 Brueggemann, Inscribing, p. 159. s Johann Baptist Metz, "The Future in the Memory of Suffering," Concilium 76 (1972), p. 15. 6 Murray Stein, Transformation (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1998), p. xxiv. 7 Stein, Transformation, pp. 146-148. 8 Barbara Newman, ed., Voice of the Living Light: Hildegard of Bingen and her World (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), p. 1. 9 Gerda Lerner, The Creation of Feminist Consciousness (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 52. ,0 Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias, trans. Mother Columba Hart and Jane Bishop (New York: Paulist Press, 1990), p. 15. n See Angela Bolster RSM, Venerable Catherine McAuley: Liminalfor Mercy (Cork, Ireland: Sisters of Mercy, 1998). ,2 The Correspondence of Catherine McAuley, 1818-1841, ed. Mary C. Sullivan (Baltimore: Catholi~ University of America Press, 2004), p. 316. 13 McAuley, Correspondence, pp. 400-401. ,4McAuley, Correspondence, p. 33. ,s McAuley, Correspondence, p. 34. ,6 Mary C. Sullivan, Catherine McAuley ~nd the Tradition of Mercy [IY7 6Z2 2008 lendenen * Duty and Daring in Hildegard and Catherine Mc~uley (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995), p. 93. 17 Carolyn Sur, The Feminist Images of God in the Visions of Saint Hildegard ofBingen's "Scivias" (New York: Mellen Press, 1993), p. 26. ~s Margaret Wade Labarge, A Small Sound of the Trumpet: Women in Medieval Life (London: Hamish Hamilton Paperback, 1986), pp. 33, I01. ~9 Renate Craine, Hildegard: Prophet of the Cosmic Christ (New York: Crossroad, 1997), p. 26. 20 Rainer Maria Rilke, I Am Tob Alone in the World: Ten Poems, trans. Robert Bly (New York: Silver Hands Press, 1981), p. 4. 21 McAuley, Correspondence, p. 94. 22 McAuley, Correspondence, 2~ McAuley, Correspondence, 24 McAuley, Correspondence, 2s McAuley, Correspondence, 26 McAuley, Correspondence, 27 McAuley, Correspondence, see footnote 83, p. 112. pp. 96-97. p. 103. pp. 112-113. p. 119. p. 144. Time Dive Plunge into the.flow of time Ride the current moment Swirl awhile 'round bubbling eddies Bob lithely on sun glistened ripples Cascade over rapid rocky rills Float out into embracing arms of open sea Then soar aloft to clouds above And gently freefall Rain Drop in the river of time. Walter Bunofsky SVD Review for Religious JEANNE MCNULTY Weavers of God: The Warp and the Weft A nY artisan of handwoven fabric knows this: If the vertical threads (the warp) are weak and under uneven tension on the loom, no matter how the horizontal threads (the weft) are woven, the resulting cloth will be a puckered, slapdash mess. "Called to weave a new spirituality that generates hope and life for all humanity" was the theme of the plenary session of superiors general of women religious held in Rome in May 2007. The question was asked: "What thread are we religious, responsible for our con-gregations, called to weave in this moment in order to become prophetic and mystic 'weavers of God'?" Weaving has been a feminine image for centuries, and cave paintings document the existence of tapestry weaving as long ago as 3000 B.C. Handloom weaving flourished in the 1700s. Nowadays a few of us, mosdy women, but some men too, still send shuttles flying Jean McNulty SFO, OCV, a secular Franciscan and a consecrated virgin (see canon 604), wrote for us in 1997; she lives a semi-eremidc life. claire@wvadventures.net 67.2 2008 McNulty ¯ Weavers of God across warps and are delighted to see new designs pop up on the fabric or web before our eyes. Those who have persevered in the art can draw many analogies between our craft and the loom of our spiritual life. Everyone's vocation or lifestyle needs some structure. Without a plan, purpose, or focus, days and years may be frittered away. On a loom the "castle" is the outer encasement. Within the castle there are "harnesses," usually between two to eight of them. These are frame-like rectangles that hold the "heddles." The heddles are slender metal rods each containing a needle eye in the center. These are threaded in various sequences according to a pur-posed design. Below the heddles and harnesses, close to the floor, are the "treadles," which are attached to the harnesses in a specific arrangement. When the treadles are pedaled or tromped, the harnesses are raised and the "shuttle" (a little boat-like device that holds the bob-bin with the weft thread) flies over and under the warp threads. The interlacing threads form the pattern that begins appearing on the newly created fabric. Almost an infinity of designs can'be produced, and a great mul-tiplicity of shades and hues are made manifest as the various colored threads cross over and under each other on the web. Many designs were developed by those who have gone on before us. Others are waiting to be dis-covered. The threads on the loom can be compared to all the people that cross our paths in life and help us to become the persons we are. This interlacing of our lives with theirs helps develop the finished pattern on the web of life. On the loom there is a front and back beam. In the weaving that I do, the vertical threads are initially tied Review for Religious to the back beam, the farthest away from the weaver, and then threaded through the heddles toward the front of the loom and then through the "beater." This is a long rectangular device containing a reed with short thin metal rods. It can be expanded at least to the width of the warp. The reed keeps the threads from getting tan-gled .and also helps create the density of the fabric. The beater "beats" the weft threads into an even line across the warp, which is tied on to the front of the loom. The aim is to get all the warp threads through the castle and then though the reeds in the right sequence and then tied with even tension to the front cloth beam. This takes time and patience, and it does no good to try and expedite the process. An experi-enced weaver knows not to hurry because, if a thread is put through the heddles or beater in the wrong sequence, the whole pattern or design is flawed. It often means going back to square one with the threading. So it is better to do it right the first time and save hours of unnecessary labor. An analogy to the spiritual life is easy to see. Just as buildings need a firm foun-dation, so a weaver of a tapestry (or of the fabric of her life) should humbly spend the time and energy to thread her loom with order and precision. She should begin by looking to the future with humble and atten-tive prayer. Occasionally, despite very careful planning and execution, a warp thread will break in the middle of a weaving project. It will take a special knot with a piece of new thread in even tension with the others to fix it. experienced weaver knows not to hurry. 161 67.2 2008 McNulty ¯ Weavers of God This requires added time and effort, as it does in the spiritual realm when our sins and flaws require repen-tance, confession, forgiveness, fixing--the knot and thread renewing togetherness and integrity. In the repertoire of weaving designs, there are warp-faced patterns and weft-faced ones. This means that, in any piece of cloth, what meets the eye is either the pattern of the weft threads or the pattern of the warp. In traditional Navajo weaving, for example, the weft completely covers and hides the warp. It is considered a real flaw for a warp thread to be seen, and so the weft is always beaten tighdy into place. The contemplative life can easily be compared to the warp in Navaio weaving. It is so totally obscure. It is, however, the framework for the entire fabric. The warp threads have to be very strong to take the intense beat-ing and packing of the weft threads that will show on the sur- The contemplative life face. Strenuous active lives and ministries can easily be compared to can beat people down the warp in Navajo weaving, in their endeavors to make the world bet-ter. These endeavors, these activities, are what people see and value, but, if they are not sup-ported by the strong threads of contemplative union with God, they will not produce the desired beautiful patterns. Pope Benedict encouraged religious to "weave 62 the living fabric of a useful service to the church., yet always maintaining solid interior relations with Christ. In fact, only from this union with God can that 'pro-phetic' role of your mission flow and be nourished." Review for Religious He added: "Never yield, therefore, to the temptation to distance yourself from intimacy with your Heavenly Spouse by allowing yourselves to be overly attracted by the interests and problems of daily life." Our Holy Father encouraged religious to cultivate the mystical dimension of consecrated life, keeping united to God through contemplation. He said: "The authentic prophet, therefore, is not concerned so much to accomplish works, which undoubtedly are important but never essential. Above all, he tries to be a witness of God's love, seeking to live it among the realities of the world, even if his presence can sometimes be 'uncom-fortable' because he offers and incarnates alternative values." !n creating a piece of material on the loom, once the warp threads are threaded through the heddles and tied on to the back warp beam and the front cloth beam, and once the weaving has commenced, the warp threads can-not be changed without dismantling. It is different with the weft threads. In the active life we can change our occupations, put different yarns and a different picture on the loom of our existence, but always underneath there has to be the contemplative warp to hold things together. What is essential is our vertical and horizontal union with Jesus. If the love relationship is there and he decides to change the design, it can hurt, but it is not devastating because the contemplative warp is strong. There are times in life when the weft patterns seem to coalesce. Everything works out well, and we have a lot of good "yardage" to show, but then can come years when no matter what we do all seems insignificant. The Lord appears to be asleep in the boat, our litde shuttle, and we feel tossed about in darkness. In the obscurity of the night, we become mystic weavers who feel at odds 67.2 2008 McNulty .,Weavers of God with the surface of our life. We cannot see what is going on, but we hope and trust that something special and beautiful is happening in the context of our life. When I have thrown the shuttle for the last time on a long-woven piece of cloth, the moment has arrived to see the web completely finished. I take the scissors and cut each warp thread. I draw the material forward and fan-fold it on the bench in front of me. A passage from the Book of Isaiah comes to mind: "You have folded up my life, like a weaver who severs the last thread" (Is 38:12). We know this moment will arrive, the one when the Master Weaver severs our web from the loom of our earthly life and surveys the finished product. Then we hope that he will delight in the display of designs and intertwining coloi's. In this moment all of us are unique and original. No other person will have the same patterns, the same gifts to display in the king-dom of our God and before our sisters and brothers. Hopefully, our lives will have been prophetic examples of the gospel message, and we too will hear the words the Father spoke over Jesus at the river Jordan: "You are my beloved child. On you my favor rests" (Mk 1:11). Review for Religious DAMIAN C. ILODIGWE Discipleship, Faith, and Commitment Getting to know people is a process. It can be long and complicated, involving several phases that result in increasing knowledge of them. Yet the process can hardly begin effec-tively unless we are prepared to discover who the individual persons are and do not approach them merely in terms of what we think or what others say about them. To be sure, what we think or what others say is important and should not be ignored, but this is not enough if our concern is to know them personally and intimately. For this we need a firsthand experi-ence that gives them the opportunity to reveal themselves to us. Consider what happens when we meet peo-ple. It takes only a while before they begin to Damian C. Ilodigwe wrote on the Magnificat in our 66.3 (2007) issue. He is a priest and lecturer in philoso-phy at Ss. Peter and Paul Major Seminary; P.M.B. 5171; Secretariat P.O.; Ibadan, Nigeria. dammychuks2000@ yahoo.tom being disciples 67.2 2008 Ilodigwe ¯ Discipleship, Faith, and Commitment 166 reveal themselves to us in various ways. If we really want to get to know them, such rrioments are precious. We pause and listen to what they have to say. By so doing we might begin to penetrate the mystery that underlies their personality. Such attention involves a certain pas-sivity in the face of their self-disclosure. Indeed, this moment of self-disclosure must guide our subsequent effort to learn who they really are. The process would be skewed if we imposed some prejudice of ours on them before they had the benefit of self-disclosure. Difficult and complex though it is to get to know other people, the reward can be great even after only a little success, and the success is bound to grow the more we try. We become more comfortable in their presence, and with this at-homeness we are able to trust them and perhaps even depend on them. We grow in our appreciation of their worth, and this leads to a much better relationship. Before we realize it, the friendship becomes intimate and personal. We need such a friend-ship with Jesus. Peter's Significant Breakthrough Like all who are called to be Jesus' disciples, the apostles had to get to know Jesus. They were specially chosen by him and destined to play an important role in his mission, but that does not mean it was easy for them to get to know him. Having been with him for some time and having seen the deep impression he made on people, they held him in high esteem. They knew how much people appreciated his words and presence. They were familiar with what people thought about him (see Mk 8:27-29). Yet this did not mean they really knew him. Their knowledge of him, like that of people he healed, was at best superficial. They knew he was the Reviem for Religious son of Joseph and Mary, but it is not evident that they penetrated the mystery of his divine personality (see Jn 5:1-18). If they were to be his ambassadors, it was crucial that their knowledge of him was not superficial, limited to a few details of his parents, his hometown, and so forth. It was impor tant that they knew and understood him for who he really is. Their coming to know him was a long process indeed, which was not over until, after his resur-rection, they received the Holy Spirit (see Lk 24:13-35). Nonetheless, the event at Caesarea Philippi offered a preliminary advancement of their knowledge of Jesus. Jesus brought up for discussion the topic of his identity (Mk 8:27-38, Mt 16:13-20). It was almost like any con-versation in which we seek feedback from others about a particular issue. He began by asking them who people said he was. That was not a difficult question, for the disciples only needed to be steeped in current affairs to answer it, and they were not wanting in this regard. They mentioned the various perspectives that people had: "John the Baptist; and others say, Elijah; and others, one of the prophets." The answer touched the reality of Jesus' per-sonality, but still was superficial. Jesus did not evaluate their answer; he simply asked another question, a more personal one: "But you, who do you say I am?" This sort of question upsets people. It certainly upset them. It took them from the nonpersonal to the personal. It Jesus brought up for discussion the topic of his identity. 167 67.2 2008 Ilodigwe ¯ Discipleship, Faith, and Commitment had implications regarding their allegiance and commit-ment. The burden of responsibility became enormous. In such circumstances we usually censor what we say. We say only what we mean to say and what we have evidence for. We can imagine the disciples considering their words carefully. Indeed, it would not be surprising to discover that there was a long silence before an answer came. As usual, it was Peter who took the lead, saying: "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." We can almost imagine that Jesus was surprised, a pleasant surprise, for Jesus' true identity was and is always a kind of secret. People focused (and still do) on accidents of Jesus' birth and circumstances, as happened when he preached in Capernaum (Lk 4:16-28). Focusing on these things, they missed (and still do) the essen-tial Jesus. Peter, however, was absolutely correct. But how did this happen? What emerges is that Peter had been assisted. It was not as a result of any merely human agency that he was able to enter the mystery of Jesus' personality. As Jesus put it, "it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven." We can recall here Jesus' words that no one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son and those to whom he reveals him (Lk 10:22). So it was not through Peter's human effort that he discovered this truth. It was through the Holy Spirit, of whom Paul was to affirm that "no one can say Jesus is Lord except in the Holy Spirit" (1 Co 12:3). It was the Holy Spirit that spoke in him. This was revelation, not merely natural knowledge. Not only was Jesus satisfied with Peter's answer, call-ing him a happy man, but he moved quickly to reward him: "You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold Review for Religious out against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven: whatever you bind on earth shall be considered bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be considered loosed in heaven." The enormousness of this reward is breathtaking, but the content is also rel-evant to the future of Jesus' mission (see Jn 21:15-19). That declaration of Jesus' identity revealed imme-diately Peter's deep configuration to Jesus to the extent that he had the seal of the Holy Spirit upon him. Peter's reward can be understood only in the context of this deep configuration. And the logic of this is relevant to us as well, in our relationship with God and with one another. In penetrating the truth of the divine personality of Jesus, Peter moved from a somewhat superficial relation-ship to an intimate personal one. If we understand Jesus in the depth of his divine and human reality, this knowl-edge is utterly transforming, and with transformation comes the burden of commitment and responsibility. To know people at an intimate level is to become committed to them. When we recognize that our rela-tionship has reached this deeper level, we are more pre-pared to take them into our confidence and relate with them still more intimately.| I suppose we are familiar with this situation. When we consider it briefly, we real-ize that it fits well the new phase in the relationship between Jesus and his disciples. With Peter's confession, the disciples were no lon-ger outsiders. They were brought inside and enabled by God's grace to perceive what others longed to per-ceive but could not perceive. The veil was lifted, and they were privileged to perceive the Lord of all creation in his true identity. Now their knowledge of him went far deeper than what people were saying. It involved 67.2 2008 Ilodig'we ¯ Discipleship, Faith, and Commitment something intensely personal, something that commit-ted them to him irrevocably. It did not, however, mean they had mastered everything about this mystery.2 In their very grasp of the mystery, something remained mysterious. They were ever in need of divine assistance to relate with him at this profound level. Toknow Jesus in his divine reality is a transforming experience, and it is our portion as Christians to attain such knowledge: 170 Peter's Confession and Our Contemporary Situation Like Peter and the other apostles, we too need to get to know Jesus better. Indeed, we can regard our journey of faith as getting to know Jesus and experienc-ing the power of his presence in our life (see Ph 1:12- 30). Also, like Peter, we need divine assistance to enter the profound reality of Jesus' divine personal-ity-- beyond a minimal grasp of what the church teaches in the creed. We need that, of course, and we need to integrate it into our faith journey. To know Jesus in his divine reality is a transforming experience, and it is our portion as Christians to attain such knowledge. The deeper our knowledge, the more we see that Jesus is our companion on our journey through life (Col 3:1-17). We see that he cares and that his presence makes all the difference in our life. We see the goodness of committing ourselves to Jesus. Living in accordance with our deeper knowledge of Jesus and our commitment brings us more and more into the divine realm. To confess Jesus as a good man Review for Religious or even a great prophet is not enough. It is to miss the whole point of his mission and our relationship with him. In the face of the artificiality and superficiality of our world, there is a need for us to encounter the full reality of Jesus, not mere extrinsic details. We must not live as if our faith were separate from our lives. Peter's confession of Jesus as the Son of the living God should make us step back and examine our own relationship with Jesus. How deep does my relationship with Jesus go? Is my relationship with him personal, or is it superficial, based on mere secondhand knowledge? God created us to know him, love him, and serve him.3 Knowledge is the gateway of love. The more we get to know Jesus and his love for us, the more we are able to love him in return and commit ourselves to him. All this may seem a tall order. It is a challenge. But it is not impossible to attain, with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, our advocate and teacher. The Holy Spirit, the spirit of truth, knows the depth of every reality, including God (see Jn 16:5-15). If we listen, the Holy Spirit will lead us deeper into the truth of Jesus. He will help us integrate this truth into our faith journey. We turn, then, to the Spirit and ask that our eyes be opened that we may see, our minds opened that we may understand, and our hearts so inflamed with divine love that our lives may be more and more conformed to the life of Christ. Notes 1 See Joseph Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus .of Nazareth (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2007), pp. 335-341. 2 See Henri J.M. Nouwen, In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership (Bandra, Mumbai: Society of St. Paul, 1999), pp. 29-32. 3 See the Catechism of the Catholic Church (Dublin: Veritas, 1994), §§356-361. 67.2 2008 Ilodigwe * Disdplesbip, Faith, and Commitment Personal and Group Reflection 1. How would I describe the process of getting to know another person? Do I find that this process is the one I use in getting to know Jesus? 2. In this article, I look at Peter in his coming to a deeper relationship with Jesus. Who else have been models for me in my own being able to grow as a friend of Jesus? 3. Have biblical studies been helpful or not in my coming to know Jesus? What part does prayer play in my growth? 172) Mary, at the Hour of Her Death "And not an easy dying," said her sister Mary the wife of Clopas, smoothing back Her own gray hair from a forehead marked With midnight watching; "but for all her Pain and the Weight of memories she and I Have shared, she went from us smiling." The ritual prayers she knew are said again; Lovingly, th.ey cover her. And while the women Of the cross go to buy the spices and prepare As once before burial, the Overshadowing Presence that she knew visits where she lies; When they return: Mary is not there. Nancy G. Westerfield Review for Religious PETER SCHINELLER Seeing with the Eyes of Christ A bold statement! How can we claim to see with the eyes of Christ? We are weak, sinners. We live in a different time and place, two thousand years after Jesus Christ. Yet this is what Pope Benedict says in his encyclical "God Is Love." About loving our neigh-bor, he writes: "Seeing with the eyes of Christ, I can give to others much more than their outward necessi-ties; I can give them the look of love which they crave" (§18). Following the Holy Father's lead, we might try to understand and retrieve this part of our Christian tradition. Where is Jesus? We often speak of the presence of Jesus Christ in our midst, especially in other persons. A key text that points to that presence is Matthew 25: "I was hungry and you fed me, naked and you clothed me." When we reach out to others in compassion and love, it is Christ we are touching. Mother Teresa saw this clearly: "Every person is Christ for me, and since173 Peter Schineller SJ writes from America House; 106 West 56 Street; New York, N.Y. 10019. 67.2 200g Schineller * Seeing with.the Eyes of Christ Saints live and model the Christ-life in their own day and agei there is only one Jesus, that person is the only one per-son in the world for me at that moment." We often hear that the goal of the spiritual life is union with Jesus Christ. He is the way, the truth, and the life. We join our lives to Jesus through word and sacrament, through prayer and action. We move to the Father Jind to his kingdom as followers of Jesus Christ. But is there another even more intimate way to speak of our relationship and union with Jesus? Is there a way that lessens the separation or dis-tance between us and Jesus, so that we begin to feel and say with St. Paul, "I live, now not I; but Christ lives in me" (Ga 2:20)? Can we not dare to say, as Pope Benedict does, that we are "see-ing with the eyes ofChrist"? Can we be bold and daring enough to say that we are to put on the heart and mind of Christ? That we reach out with the hands of Christ? Are these words true, or are they mythical, oversimplified piety? There is a story about a statue of Christ in a church. It was wartime, and the church was bombed. The statue stood, but the arms of Christ, reaching out, were broken off. Rather than remove or replace the damaged statue, someone put a note on it: "He has no hands but ours." Is this just a pious tale, or does it express a deep insight into the Christian life? Christian Tradition Speaks This Way St. Paul certainly saw his own life and the Christian life as intimately joined with Jesus Christ. We live Review for Religious and die with Christ, in him, through him. The Pauline writings use these and similar prepositions about 165 times to describe our relationship with Jesus Christ. Paul explains that we are slowly, gradually being trans-formed into the likeness of Christ (1 Co 3:18). Writing to the Christians at Philippi, he urges them to put on the attitude or mind of Christ: "Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus" (Ph 2:5). All of our thoughts are to be "captive in obedience to Christ" (2 Co 10:5). With even greater boldness he says, "We have the mind of Christ" (1 Co 2:16). The Christian, through the power and reality of grace, grad-ually assumes the shape, the form of Jesus Christ. Saints live and model the Christ-life in their own day and age. We find a strong expression of how we put on Christ in a few words of St. John Eudes. He writes of the Christian's relationship to Jesus: He belongs to you as the head belongs to its mem-bers; all that is his is yours: his spirit, his heart, his body and soul, and all his faculties. You must make use of all these as your own, to serve, praise, love, and glorify God. You belong to him, as members belong to their head. And so he longs for you to use all that is in you, as if it were his own, for the service and glory of the Father. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, § 1698) How This Might Apply to Us The phrase "imitation of Christ" is a hallowed one in the history of Christian spirituality. It often refers to the classic book of Thomas h Kempis. What might it mean in light of what we have outlined above? Can we see our lives not simply as an imitation of Jesus Christ who is out there, over against us, but as one with us, cooperating with us, working in us in every good deed 67.2 2008 Scbineller ¯ Seeing with the Eyes of Christ that we perform? Can we see, think, act, with the eyes, mind, hands of Christ? Can this become a way of envi-sioning our lives? Here are a few examples. The eyes of Christ and our eyes. Jesus observed and learned lessons from the birds of the air, the lilies of the field. Jesus observed, and pointed out to the disciples, the great generosity of the widow who with her two coins put in more than all the rich men. Jesus saw with eyes of compassion the needs of the sick and the blind. Are we open to seeing the needs of others, and to seeing as Jesus saw? Or do we have a beam in our own eye and so fail to see the good in others, fail to see the needs of others, with the eyes of Christ? The mind of Christ and our mind. Jesus was one with his Father. His Father's thoughts of truth and peace-- were in the mind of Christ. Jesus emptied himself and thought of the good of others. Do we let Jesus enter into our minds and reshape our attitudes, our way of thinking? Do the needs of others have more weight than our own needs and desires? Does the truth prevail in our words and our conduct, or do we compromise and bargain with the truth? The heart of Christ and our heart. Christ says, "Come to me, all who labor and are burdened. I will give you rest." His heart went out in compassion for the crowd, hungry for food and for the word of life. His heart went out to the lepers. His heart was pierced on the cross, so much did he love us. He wants to transform our hearts into his own. From hearts that can be cold and insensitive, isolated and stubborn, he wants our hearts to become warm like his own, overflowing with love for his Father and for all God's children. The hands of Christ and our hands. As a youth Jesus assisted in the carpenter shop in Nazareth. In his min- Review for Religious istry Jesus reached out with a healing hand, a hand of friendship and blessing. Children came to receive his welcome and blessing. His hands shared food with his disciples and with the crowds. With his hands he washed the feet of Peter and the other apostles. Do we extend a clenched fist or the open hand of friendship? Do we let Christ work through our hands as we go about our daily tasks in the home, the workplace, the market? Do we see ourselves as instruments of his work, his care and concern? The feet of Christ and our feet. Jesus went about doing good. He continued steadfastly on the journey to Jerusalem, knowing that it would lead to suffering and death. He carried the cross to the hill of Calvary. In our walking and travels, are we instruments for the spread of the gospel and for works of charity? The ears of Christ and our ears. We sing with the Psalmist that "the Lord hears the cry of the poor." Jesus heard the blind cry out for help, the cry of the Syro- Phoenician woman for assistance for her child. Do we fill our ears with unnecessary noise and entertainment so that we have little time to hear the call of the child, the friend, anyone in need? The words of Christ and our words. Jesus spoke words of love and words of power. He spoke with authority. His words often evoked faithful, beautiful responses such as Peter's words "Depart from me, Lord, I am a sinful man." Jesus' words gathered apostles and follow-ers, and captivated the crowds. Do our words echo the words of Christ, so that Christ can.be said to be speak-ing in and through us? Do others hear the words of the gospel, good news, in our conversation? The prayer of Jesus and our prayer. Jesus prayed before major decisions such as calling the apostles. He prayed I177 67.2 2008 Sebineller * Seeing witb the Eyes of Cbrist _178] for Peter that his faith might not falter. Jesus called God "Father" and invites us to do the same. As we pray the Lord's Prayer, do we realize that it is Jesus praying in and with and through us? He prayed for forgiveness even for those who crucified him. Do we let the Spirit of Jesus, dwelling in our hearts, cry out, "Abba, Father"? Do we let Jesus pray in and through us for the needs of our world and our family and friends? The will of Christ and our will. Jesus came to do the Father's will. "Not my will, but yours be done." He became obedient even unto death, death on a cross. Do we let God direct our will, or do we resist handing over our will to the divine will? Are our choices in line with the way and the words of Jesus, letting his Spirit be the power, impetus, and guide for our choices? Prayers That Reflect This Vision Four prayers of the Christian tradition reinforce the thrust of this reflection. The first is the familiar prayer of St. Patrick on the presence of Christ, how it sur-rounds and fills us. Christ be with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ where I lie, Christ where I sit, Christ where I arise, Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me. A second prayer is from the Book of Hours, of 1514: God be in my head, and my understanding; God be in my eyes, and in my looking; God be in my mouth, and in my speaking; Review for Religious God be in my heart, and in my thinking; God be at my end, and at my departing. The third prayer comes from St. Ignatius Loyola. At the end of the Spiritual Exercises, we hand over ourselves completely to the Lord, to his transforming power, for him to do with us as he wills and as he thinks best: Take, Lord, receive, all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my will. All that I have and pos-sess. You have given all to me. To you, Lord, I return it. All is yours. Do with it what you will. Give me only your love and your grace, that is enough for me. The fourth prayer, more contemporary, the Grail Prayer, is an excellent prayer for Christians as they go about their daily responsibilities: Lord Jesus, I give you my I give you my I give you my I give you my I give you my I give you my spirit that you may pray in me. Above all, I give you my heart that you may love in me your Father and all humankind. I give you my whole self that you may grow in me, so that it is you, Lord Jesus, who live and work and pray in me. hands to do your work. feet to go your way. eyes to see as you do. tongue to speak your words. mind that you may think in me. One way to begin to live this seeing, thinking, and walking with the eyes, mind, and feet of Jesus is by making it part of our daily examen. Rather than exclusively focus on our sins and failings, or our dominant feelings or emotions, we might focus on how we have or have not spoken, lis-tened, and acted like Jesus. With this Christocentric per-spective, we reflect on how Jesus Christ, and the Spirit of Jesus Christ, lives in and through us. 67.2 2008 Scbineller ¯ Seeing witb tbe Eyes of Christ Jesus Christ was born 2000 years ago in Bethlehem. He will come again at the end of time. He comes now in word and sacrament, and he wishes to be born again in us. He wishes to reshape, reform, and transform our bodies into his own. He wants to speak his words of love through us, and to reach out in compassion to the needy through our arms. The poet Hopkins captures this vision in his "kingfishers catch fire" poem: Christ - for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his, To the Father through the features of men's faces. 180 Mourning "I'm so sorry for your loss," I said, or I think I said that, And held out my hand to a black glove that shook, then grasped hard and held on As if my outstretched palm held gold, gold for the going, For going home tonight and leaving him there cold, alone and lonely. No, he is no longer lonely or in pain, or alone - She is. Suzanne Mayer IHM Review for Religious JOHN J. FISHER The Celibate Aunt or Uncle: Another Blessed Vocation Byrother Joe and I worked together for thirteen ears at the Catholic high school that our religious order owns and administers. Beyond our shared ministry and living in community together, we did not have much in common. As facilities manager, he was concerned with heating, ventilating, and air conditioning (HVAC) issues and requests for proposals (RFPs) to read. As a (eacher and administrator, I was concerned with Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) scores and collegial observations to write. He loved Broadway music while I played rock and roll. He would go out for a bike ride while I went out for a run. The special thing about which we agreed was that there is no greater vocation than being a celibate uncle. With excitement we exchanged stories about fam-ily get-togethers, our nephews' and nieces' accomplish-ments, and their latest activities and e~iploits. We could John J. Fisher OSFS has worked for twenty years in secondary and now college education. His address is De Sales University; 2755 Station Avenue; Center Val!ey, Pennsylvania 18034. Email: john. fisher@desales.edu 181 67.2 2008 Fisher ¯ The Celibate Aunt or Uncle Prayer is a special, gift we religious priests, brothers, and sisters offer to our nephews and nieces. 182 visit their homes, have tremendous fun with them, spoil them, sugar them up, hold the babies once changed, and then leave. We would brag about their strengths and minimize their growing pains. All of our friends heard many family stories. We knew that our nieces and neph-ews were a special grace toward living our religious life well. Let me share an anecdote. "To listen to your messages, press one; to get mes-sages, press two. 'Hey, Uncle John, this is Danny. Just calling to ask if you can pray for DJ, one of our basket-ball players at Central Catholic. He got in a car acci-dent driving home from the school dance. He must have fallen asleep and drove off into a ditch. The police didn't find him till the next morning. He's in a coma. Please pray for him. Okay? Love you.'" As Danny was only in fifth grade when he left this mes-sage, it tells me three things. First, Danny already has his sights set on playing basketball at the high school level. He even speaks as if he is already part of the team, telling me "we lost a close one last night." Second, not only does Danny believe in the power of prayer, but he is other-centered, especially if the other is a star athlete. Third, Danny looks to his celibate uncle as one to whom he can go for prayers of intercession. Danny is now in sixth grade, DJ is recovering nicely, and I am still blessed with the privilege of praying for the intentions of my siblings and their greatest gift to me: their sons and daughters. Review for Religious Prayer is a special gift we religious priests, brothers, and sisters offer to our nephews and nieces. Because of our vocation and its implicit commitment to individual and communal prayer, we become the obvious "go-to" people to pray for people's petitions. We are asked to pray for this nephew's intention, this niece's special favor,~ or that of someone we do not even know but who is dear to our loved ones. They believe not only in the power of prayer, but very specially in our including them and their intentions in ours. Our fidelity to prayer in our state in life frees us to do just that. Several years ago I was challenged by a classmate to include my family, naming each one individually, in the intercessory part of my prayer life. Daily, morn-ing and evening, I conclude the intercessory portion of my prayer by naming all my siblings and their children from oldest to youngest. I include the intentions I know abouh ones specially asked for and unvoiced ones I sense are needed. In a generic way, I pray through the inter-cession of our parents (the young people's grandparents) that all within the family may be safe, protected from harm, happy, healthy, faithful to parents' and grand-parents' good example, and open to the presence and blessing of the Lord. Depending on the situation, I add specific intentions, from guidance in choosing a college to success in a master's program. Including them daily in prayer brings to mind the gift they are as individuals and our special relationship with each other. It is also a daily reminder of the tremendous gift of prayer and the need to specially cultivate this treasure. In addition to prayer, there are other aspects of the spiritual place we have in our relatives' lives. We are always invited to receptions of a new sacrament, the yearly school Christmas plays, and every gradua- 67.2 2008 Fisher ¯ The Celibate Aunt or Uncle tion. Our relatives expect something spiritual from us, whether it is a holy card or a blessing on their fore-heads. Our small monetary gifts are always appreci-ated in a unique way, for they know we do not have the wherewithal that other aunts and uncles may have. It is often the celibate aunt or uncle that remembers all the birthdays of nephews and nieces. They count on us for the yearly birthday card, perhaps one at Halloween, and a small gift at Christmas. They call on us for that spe-cial "religion project" or an answer to some theological question. Of course, this can be a mixed blessing. When we do not know offhand who was the mother of Ruth or the pope of frequent communion, they call into ques-tion how we got ordained or what kind of a religious we are. We are, though, privileged to baptize them, to give them their first Eucharist, to witness their exchange of marriage vows or to read at their wedding. We hear of them explaining our way of life to their friends with a sense of special pride, bragging in their own way. Many of them call us weekly to "check in," affording us the opportunity to affirm and to express our ongoing love for them. We are their personal cheerleaders in each and every adventure, whether it is a passing fad or a passion that perdures. They expect us to say that they played well regardless. They understand that we have a right to be biased in thinking they were the best on the stage, on the court, or on the playing field. Every picture they paint is a Rembrandt, and every musical composition borders on something worthy of Carnegie Hall. Our nephews and nieces give us joy and hope. We are privileged to share their lives and stories in a way that maybe their other aunts and uncles cannot, because they are necessarily attentive to their own children's Review for Religious journeys. With no children of our own, we have the freedom to be the special aunt or uncle. They all become ours in a special way, collectively and individually. In a special bond of trust, we may be privy to hear-ing something that their own parents do not yet know (one getting stopped by the police for driving over the speed limit or a niece protecting a nephew from getting into trouble). Such discreet listening is usually not seri-ous, and things turn out well. We serve as a compassionate ear when they are not ready to go to their parents. They come to us for hope, under-standing, and accep-tance. They know clearly that we would never withhold something their parents need to know, but we can still listen to them as they tell us that their parents do not understand or are being unreasonable. They hope that we may serve as the voice of reason interceding for them to have a cell phone, be allowed to drive to school, or stay out just a little longer. We may be able to reach them simply because we are not their parents. We can be their sounding board, and we can help them realize how deeply their parents love and care for them, sensitizing them to the delicate vocation of parenting. All of this allows us to bring, with pride and vital-ity, this great sense of family into our homilies or our classes. In understanding them, their accomplishments, and their gradual maturation, we are able to relate to parents to whom we preach or whose children we teach. We may be able to r each them simply because we are not' their parents. 67.2 2008 Fisher ¯ The Celibate Aunt or Uncle Our love manifests itself in our being compassionate and gentle with those whom we serve and who in various ¯ ways are similar to our nephews and nieces. It lets us see that there is no vocation more difficult, more precious, and more needed than parenting. Invited into the homes and lives of our siblings, we get a real sense of what it means to parent and to grow up in this changing world as a child, teenager, or young adult. In sharing these sto-ries, our preaching and teaching become real, vital, chal-lenging, and spirit filled. We can offer a strong sense of faith because we have received it from these relatives of ours. Our siblings' fidelity to their spouses and children exhorts us to a renewed commitment to be poor, chaste, and obedient for our own sakes and for the world. The relationship afforded us as aunts and uncles reminds us that we were born into a natural family before entering our religious family. We journey like everyone else as we see our loved ones struggling in school, working tirelessly to afford tuition, striving to stay sober, searching for employment, or hoping to find that special soul mate. We prayerfully accompany their growing pains, seeing the cycle in one after another. We serve as one who, standing off in the distance, perceives the special quality in each of them and then helps them appreciate their own unique spark of the divine. With everyone we have different relationships that change and grow over the years. With each of several families, we may experience different traditions, habits, and customs. But we highlight for all of them a larger sense of family, a broad sense of gift, and the God who is the giver of all. We can also share with family our religious lives and what we have to offer from our own ministry. We can offer a sense of hope to siblings who are so closely con-nected to their children that they cannot see beyond an Review for Religious attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), a poor self-image, a lack of responsibility, an inability to make this team or star in that role. We can remind them that their children's growing edges are no different from other children's, and we can offer the assurance that "things take time" and "this, too, shall pass." We may downplay the seriousness they see as concerned parents, knowing ourselves the greater severity of some other peo-ple's worries. With the passing of years, - we can reflect back to our nephews and nieces and their parents the fine growth and maturing we have observed. At the same time, we may be disconcerted that they grow up so quickly. We take another look at ourselves, our mortality, the fragility of our life, and may wonder what lessons we will have handed down to them. Additionally, we share our religious family, its mem-bers, and its charism with our relatives. We occasionally invite our natural family into the intimacy of our reli-gious family, where a mutual enrichment is enjoyed that enhances each family. We enjoy hearing our nephews and nieces call our fellow religious by their first names (Bob, Jack, Mary, Pat), showing the close bond they share instead of using titles like Father, Sister, Brother. They become extended members of our various reli-gious orders, championing our cause and ministry, even becoming our cheerleaders, bragging about our spirit, charism, and apostolates. Later in life, they invite us into their newly formed families and homes. They come We can also share with family our religious lives and what we have to offer from our own ministry. 187 67.2 2008 Fisher ¯ The Celibate Aunt or Uncle 188 to visit, take us to dinner, invite us on their vacations, and support us as benefactors. These sentiments and relationships may not always be the lived situation. For some religious, they might not be real or feel real. Perhaps we find ourselves at odds with members of our family. We religious are like people everywhere. Though wonderfully redeemed, we are keenly aware of our flaws and sinfulness, and our fellow religious remind us of them. This is a blessing of living the communal life. But, sadly, we may find our-selves estranged from members o~ one or both of our two families. If so, a question needs to be asked: Is there anything so devastating that prayer, grace, and the pres-ence of God cannot heal? Of course, we cannot make up for lost time direcdy. Our nephews and nieces only have one "first communion," special recital, or game-winning three pointer. But, still, let us work at being gende and loving toward members of our families. Let us be vul-nerable to their forgiveness or compassion so that their grace and spirit may enrich our lives and ministries. They have much to teach us about being pastoral. Our nephews and nieces have trust in us. They value our vocation as religious and the graced role we serve as their special aunts and uncles dedicated to God's wider family. They can inspire us to a tremendous sense of fidelity. They need us to be women and men of integ-rity, faithful to our calling and our ministry. When it becomes difficult to be faithful, when it feels desirable to be anything but poor, chaste, and obedient, who we are to them and for them can serve as our motive to be the religious we vowed to be in the presence of God, the church, and that family of ours. We must not dis-appoint them. Being a celibate aunt or uncle is more than another hat, another role, another relationship. It Review for Religious is a phenomenal blessing like few others that breathes meaning into who we are--and how we are that uncle or aunt for all of God's people. Brother Joe and I no longer live in the same local community. When we gather for a communal celebra-tion, we keep each other abreast not just of our doings, but rather of our lives as uncles, our blessing as uncles, and all the joy that our nephews and nieces bring to us. Personal and Group Reflection 1. How has this article stimulated me to reflect on my vocation choice as I relate to the younger members of my family? 2. Acknowledging the tensions that arise in family relationships, can I reflect on some success stories in handling a difficult time? Invitation to Prayer The lake reflects a mirror calm, scents of wildflowers fill the air, a lone deer at the water's edge stares into the depths of heaven. Evergreens frame the tranquil scene, fir and pine in a regal pose, anticipating the coming of the finch and wren and sparrow. It is a time to approach God, to savor his creations, to let him penetrate the soul, raise the spirit, possess the heart. Neil C. Fitzgerald 67.2 2008 DAVID L. FLEMING gnatian exercising What Is a "First Week Retreat"? The Ignatian retreat of a few days to a week has commonly been called a "First Week" retreat. Ignatius himself described an adapta-tion of the full four-week Exercises with the phrase "giving the First Week exercises." The assumed focus has traditionally been on "sin" as outlined by Ignatius in the five explicit "exercises" of the First Week. In the tradition it has been acknowledged that Ignatius allows for some instruction on prayer as described at the end of the Exercises and on the various examens that are briefly explained at the beginning of the First Week. In this brief study, however, I want to focus on the prayer exercises, not on the instructions the retreat director may give. :190 ] David L. Fleming SJ is nearing twenty years as this jour-nal's editor. He first published the following article in the Indian journal Ignis, volume 37, number 3. Review for Religious Despite the practice known as "traditional," espe-cially with the retreats preached in the 19th- and 20th-century retreat houses, I question whether Ignatius intends a closely literal interpretation of the First Week. Does Ignatius intend to restrict the prayer material for those making a shorter retreat to meditation only on sin? Do we not need rather to take into consideration the dynamic of the First Week in order to understand how to structure and adapt a First Week retreat? How might we describe the dynamic or movement of the grace of the First Week? It is the interplay between the grace retreatants seek and the colloquy or conver-sation they have with God in each prayer period. Although in this Week, in the second prelude, Ignatius usually suggests a specific way of praying for a grace, he also speaks generally about the way of conversing with God in the colloquies. Because he describes a colloquy as a friend talking to a friend (or perhaps a servant to his master), he presumes that the conversation flows and is not predetermined. The Ignatian dynamic appears in this interplay between the grace sought and the results of the conversation, the colloquy. In an individually directed retreat, the director listens to this interplay between the grace prayed for in the prelude and the grace received as described to the retreat director. The director thereby receives inti-mations for the direction of the following day's prayer. Ignatius places the emphasis, not on dwelling on personal sins or on evil in our world, but on being grateful t

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

Issue 52.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1993. ; for r elig ious Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1993 ¯VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 4 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 J~an Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1993 ¯ VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER4 contents 486 feature The Most Adventurous of Nuns: Ursulines and the Future Mary.Jo Weaver gives contemporary meaning to the legacy of Angela Merici and the Ursulines. prayer 503 Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ shares the struggle of a desert-day experience. 507 Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation Robert McCown SJ explains how Christian Zen, or centering prayer, as an ancillary to the Spiritual Exercises offers spiritual repose. 519 God's Human Face Revealed: A Retreat in Wales Mary Corona FMDM shares her experience of God's working in a thirty-day retreat. 532 541 548 spiritual life What Trouble Is Tad Dunne ponders how coping with trouble allows us to find energies that produce growth. Prayer, Memories, and God Theresa Mancuso suggests a fascinating relationship between recalling joyful and painful memories and praying to God. Adding Up 75 Years Vera Gallagher RGS adds up the balance sheet of God's love in her own life history. 482 Review for Religious 553 566 574 apostolate Prayer and Work, Mostly in South Africa Timothy Stanton CR believes that intercession is the main respon-sibility of the church in the painful process of bringing a new South Africa to birth. Religious Life in West Africa 1966-1990 Martin O'Reilly CFC offers an outline of the development of reli-gious life from foreign-born to local-born in West Africa. The Sanctification of Their Neighbor Thaddeus J. Kazanecki CO examines some characteristics of the Italian confraternal life within which St. Philip Neri founded the Congregation of the Oratory. 584 596 6O2 610 religious life Culture and Contemplative Community Marie Beha OSC reflects on how living the Franciscan charism in the United States can be ddngerous both for U.S. Poor Clares and U.S. culture. Canonical Room for Charisms William F. Hogan CSC emphasizes the uniqueness to be fostered by each particular religious institute for the good of the church's mission. Journal of a Novice Director Melannie Svoboda SND explores the mind and heart of a novice director through excerpts that could be found in a journal. A Family Business: Management in Religious Congregations Dennis Newton SVD spells out some practical directives for deal-ing with complications arising from interaction between religious-congregation members and nonmembers in the workplace. departments 484 Prisms 616 Canonical Counsel: The Synod on Consecrated Life 622 Book Reviews 37-uly-Aug~st 1993 483 prisms A seminarian recently told me, in a certain exasperated way, of his frustration about political label-ing in the church. Informally representing others of sim-ilar age, he pointed out that he has known no other church than the post-Vatican II church. An English-language liturgy, a catechetical training distinguished more by ques-tions than by answers, parish organizations still in devel-oping stages, a school faculty composed mostly of lay teachers, along with a few religious women and men not appearing all that different in dress or in lifestyle from their lay counterparts--these are the only memories of church that he has. He has no more nostalgia for the prac-tices of the church of earlier years than he has for the cel-ebrated golden age of radio before the advent of television. His complaint is that any expressed desires for con-nectives to a pre-Vatican II church immediately raise the likelihood of himself and other people his age being called "neoconservatives." These thirtysomething people and younger want rather to explore more fully their heritages of Catholic .faith and practice. They have no battles to fight over the rigidities and meaninglessness that were part of some Catholic devotions and regulations of the recent, past. They are gra,teful for the freedom and respon-sibility which "older" church members have not always felt comfortable with. They appreciate the maturing fits-and- starts of an American hierarchy in providing leader-ship in their letters on peace and justice and on economics and even in the failed .attempt to address the role of women in society and the church. They see as well-mean-ing but fearful the attempts at control and centralization made by what they might want to label as a "conserva- 484 Review for Religious tive" Vatican bureaucracy. But they are nevertheless looking, sometimes toward the past, for something more in their church than they have at present. They would want, in Jesus' imagery, to be like the "head of a household who can bring from his store-room both the new and the old" (Mt 13:52). If I have rather faithfully understood and presented a major concern of significant numbers of younger members in the church, I believe that their complaint is legitimate. The necessity for an in-depth contact with and study of our rich heritages has never been more apparent. We are all-too-aware of the old truism that unless we know our past we are condemned to keep repeating it. We in the church are also well aware that the danger of being prisoners of the past is all-too-real, with the embarrassing irrel-evance of various "churchy" issues in the face of modern world problems and technology. So for us to know our heritages is to have the strength of consistency with our past but also the stim-ulus to move into a creative future where our faith is a light for appropriate decision and action. Our feature article, "The Most Adventurous of Nuns: Ursulines and the Future" by Mary Jo Weaver, is one attempt to make contact with a heritage in this kind of significant way. I hope that this article will serve as a model for people to study and write engagingly about other heritages, with implications for the present and future opportunities of those very heritages. The women and men who lived our heritages before they were heritages make vivid the values necessary for today's Christian living and the courage it takes to live these values in the face of difficulties, including at times the opposition of good people. This journal has a privileged role to play in bringing people into greater contact with the good-ness within so many spiritual families that live together in our church. In coming to know more fully the relevance of our spiri-tual heritages, we dan expect that our liturgical and prayer practices will be more life-giving, our ministries inspired by gospel beati-tudes will be more clearly focused, and our lives supported in Christian community will be more vigorous. Vatican II and the subsequent years have given the church the occasion for straightening out the gospel storeroom. Now we, the church members, need to enrich our faith lives by com-ing to know and use its treasures, both new and old. David L. Fleming SJ yuly-A1lgust 1993 485 feature MARY JO WEAVER The Most Adventurous of Nuns: Ursulines and the Future I found the title of my talk in the first sentence of Agnes Repplier's biography of M~re Marie: "Of course," she says, "the Ursulines were the most adventurous of nuns." As I skimmed the book, I found phrases like "the most adven-turous of patronesses," the "robust intelligence and fear-less imagination" of the founder, and the "constitutional fearlessness and valorous spirit" of the first missionary to North America. The women most often mentioned in Ursuline history--St. Ursula, Angela Merici, and Mhre Marie--were all formidable figures, and as I read about them I was wafted back into a romantic past when pio-neering women were intrepid and when everything worked out all right in the end. Although the women associated with Ursuline history were not feminists in any modern sense of the word, I wondered what it would mean to attempt a feminist reading of their lives. I was drawn most powerfully into Angela's life, but not before the other two made me stop and take notice. The medieval legend of Ursula as a graceful, beauti-ful, wise, cultured scholar whose learning amazed the doc- Mary Jo Weaver is professor of religious studies and women's studies at Indiana University in Bloomington. Author of Springs of Water in a Dry Land: Catholic I, Vomen and Spiritual Survival (Beacon Press, 1993) and other works, she spent ten years explor-ing feminist issues in the American Catholic Church and has recently begun a long-term research project on traditionalist Catholics in the United States. Her address is 1030 S. Mitchell; Bloomington, Indiana 47401. 486 Review for Religiot~s tors of the church explains why she inspired so many paintings and poems. The bare outlines of her mythical life--martyred along with eleven .thousand virgins with whom she was wandering around barbarian Europe--are fanciful, to say the least, but I do not think it troublesome that the historical facts about her are rather dim. True or false, her legends shaped part of the Catholic tradition and tell us something about the roles women were able to play in the medieval imagination. That she was a virgin, the patron of innocent girls, and a charismatic figure and leader even though she was single--neither married nor in a convent--was obviously attractive to Angela. When I moved to the stories surrounding M~re Marie, leader of the first Ursuline mission in North America, I found genuine historical material used by her biographer in a skilled portrait. Repplier's biography can be summarized in this sentence: "She had escaped every groove in which she had been imprisoned by circumstances." It is a marvelous summary of the life of an ordi-nary woman responding to extraordinary demands, and that seems to be an Ursuline theme, at least in the North American context, where Ursulines were on the scene early and seemed to thrive in the most desperate of situations. Male historians, who typically pay little attention to women, unite in praise for the teaching charism of the Ursulines and their civilizing power on the frontier. There is more, of course, but the bottom line from the his-torians is a witness to dedicated purpose: "The development most distinctively American was the role in educating the young assumed so largely by a myriad of women's communities, begin-ning with the Ursulines in New Orleans in 1727." These same historians do not make much of the fact that the founder of the Ursulines was an independent and rather remarkable woman sur-rounded by strong, inventive women. Those attributes attracted me, however, and it became clear to me that the best way to think about Ursulines was to get to know their founder. Besides, there seemed to be excellent sources of information: well-researched critical biographies, spiritual reflections, historical notes, and modern symposium notes say something about the kind of energy Angela Merici has inspired in her followers. About Angela Merici, there seems to be solid historical ground for an interpretation, but as with the stories of other founders and other times, the pious imagination has sometimes filtered the facts. For example, Angela is remembered ih connection with the July-Aug'ust 1993 487 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns education of girls and is sometimes pictured as energetically open-ing schools; but she neither spent her time founding academies, nor was she drawn primarily to an apostolate of education. Her pioneering spirit was directed towards the moral support of young girls and the regeneration of society as it could be accomplished through a formation program within family settings. Still, because she established a company of independent women at a time when things were astonishingly bad for women, Angela is an example of the "theoretical feminism" that some critics believe has always existed even though it was seldom successful. Theoretical femi-nism means the dedication of women to the abolition of hie(ar-chics, especially those that put women under the direction of men. That description appears to fit Angela's context, and the fact that she tried her experiment during the Renaissance makes her case even stronger. One of the salient points made by feminist historians for the last twenty-five years has to do with periodization. The ways we mark historical periods have been set by men and often mark the realities of women's lives. The late Joan Kelly ~nade this argu-ment with specific reference to Renaissance Italy, Angela's time and place. According to Kelly,.there were no gains for women during the Renaissance. In fact, the age was marked by a restric-tion of the scope of women's powers. Female sexuality, women's economic and political roles, their cultural power in shaping the outlook of their societies, and the ideology about women all underwent profound changes, mostly to the diminishment of women. Yet Angela acted as if the subordination of women was not an issue for her. The "new subordination of women to the inter-ests of husbands and male-dominated groups" that went hand in hand with Renaissance "progress" did not seem to touch her per-sonally though it may account for the rather quick enclosure of the women Angela hoped could live a more autonomous existence. Like fascinating women everywhere, Angela regularly over-turns predictable assmnptions about her. The woman who gath-ered the company later valorized as "the most adventurous of nuns" seems to have been the most reluctant of founders. The founder who has gone into history as one of the world's great pioneers of education seems not to have been that at all, and the visionary who heard a voice from heaven in her teens finally got around to acting on it when she was an old woman. Angela's life fits no .pattern that I can find unless it might be 488 Review for Religious that of Dorothy Day, who summarized her own life's work by say-ing that she never planned to do very much at all. "Opportunities presented themselves and we responded," she used to say, refus-ing to be relegated to the musty shelves of sainthood, out of ordi-nary reach. Dorothy Day is not a perfect parallel figure for understanding Angela, but can help us to perceive the more or less prosaic ways in which ordinary people can be propelled into extraordinary activity. Almost everything we know about Angela Merici happened in Brescia, a small but very volatile city. In 1401 it had been dubbed "the little Rome" because it had 70 churches and 50 monasteries for a population of 16,000, yet sixty years later the apocalyptic reformer Savanarola preached sermons there evoking visions of hellfire and damnation to inspire a change of heart in a morally bankrupt population. Perhaps Brescia was simply unlucky in terms of episcopal leadership. Paulo Zane, absentee bishop there for fifty years (1481-1531), seemed to be in a contest with corrupt popes, cardinals, and priests to see who could lead the most lav-ish and egocentric life. Perhaps Brescia was simply unlucky in terms of its geographical location; it was used, stomped on, and overrun by various armies during the complex territorial wars that dominated the region in the late 15th and early 16th cen-turies. When the French sacked the city in 1512, four years before Angela arrived, the torture and killing of local citizens was so ferocious that all of Europe was shocked by it. If we think of mod-ern- day Somalia, or parts of Latin America or the Middle East, we would not be far off in our analogy. The context for Angela's life, therefore, was collapse and tran-sition. The medieval models for politics and religion were not working, but nothing better was yet in place--a time, in other words, not entirely unlike our own. It was also a time of rampant corruption and moral gridlock, in which those "in charge" appeared uninterested in the daily spiritual li;¢es of ordinary peo-ple. Outside of the 10th century, it is hard to imagine a worse set of popes, one after another, than those who occupied the Holy See then; nearly half of the men who~e stories make up Chamberlain's The Bad Popes ruled during Angela's lifetime. Religious life, although abundantly present, was scandalous rather than edifying, creating a kind of spiritual vacuum for a scream of protest to fill. And, of course, someone did produce such a scream. A young Augustinian monk teaching Scripture at Wittenberg protested .~uly-Aug'ust 1993 4.89 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns Charlotte Lichtblau vehemently, but that is a different story. It is not clear how sharply the Lutheran remonstrances touched Angela herself. Many of the reformers of the 16th century--Teresa of Avila, for example-- were so taken up with their own missions that they appear to belong to a climate of religious reform that has very little to do with the great Protestant revolt that began a year after Angela arrived in her new home. Still, ten years later, in 1527, a major anti-Catholic demonstration in Brescia signified, among other things, that people there were in a state of spiritual uproar. 490 Review for Religious To understand Angela's context, therefore, we have to imag-ine a situation that felt generally hopeless and beyond control. The northern Italian borders were not secure, and towns like Brescia were a kind of permanent war zone, not always the scene of bloodshed, but sufficiently precarious to raise the disease rate, encourage prostitution, destabilize families, and generally scuttle normal life. Religious leaders were nowhere to be seen unless one happened to be in Rome attending the theater. The streets of Brescia in 1532 probably resembled Times Square in 1993. They were full of con men sensing opportunities, young women selling themselves for their next meal, old men with diseases or old war wounds and no place to go, and ragged children darting from one bad situation to the next. Acting courageously in this little scene were some dedicated young men operating hospitals for "incur-ables" and a steadfast group of young women whose desire to help young girls led them to imagine themselves working together in a new way. What did these young idealists have in common besides a lively conscience and a desire for spirituality in action? They were all friends of or drawn to Angela Merici, an efficient, maternal woman who, by all accounts, had a magnetic personal-ity shaped by personal sanctity. She had even, so it was said, once had some kind of "vision." As I noted earlier, whatever the facts of her life, Angela Merici is not typical in any way. The outline of her visionary experience-- adolescent orphan girl sees something and claims to be instructed by it--is a standard story; but what Angela did with it is not. Her modesty in claiming very little for herself because of her experi-ence reminds me of Dame Julian of Norwich, who after a series of remarkable visions went on with a modest, reclusive life, recounting them to a scribe only much later. As an adolescent, Angela apparently had a profound religious experience--a dream or a vision--which she believed gave shape and direction to her life; but she did not immediately run to a bishop to disclose its contents, nor did she speculate about the concrete terms into which it might eventually be cast. She simply went about her life as a third-order Franciscan, te.aching catechism in her own village and willing to go wherever she was needed--to Brescia, as it turns out, when she was in her forties. Unless we count a pious life as extraordinary, she did not do anything out of the ordinary there. Perhaps the very routineness of her life calmed people: At the same time, the little things she .~uly-August 1993 491 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns Like any normal prophet, she was reluctant to believe that God was directly calling her. did made an impressibn on those around her. She lived a selfless life in the company of rich people and brought the attractive wis-dom of common sense to a besieged.situation. She apparently felt secure enough to pursue her lifestyle choice of virginity in the home of a wealthy young merchant, living in his house for more than a dozen years. She was an ascetic who was surrounded by friends, many of them men. She was a good organizer and pitched in to do what needed to be done--nursing, counseling, pro-tecting children, consoling the bereaved--but also apparently felt free enough to go galli-vanting off to Jerusalem, to Rome, and to Varolla, a kind of Holy Land theme park in the Alps. How it became clear to her that it was time to act upon her early vision and gather "a company of consecrated virgins" around her is not Clear to me, especially since I see her vari-ous trips as flights from that call. Every time someone called a meeting, she disappeared! In 1522, when she was in her early fifties, Angela went on a pilgrimage to Mantua, to the tomb of Blessed Osanna Andreasi, a third-order Dominican. Why? Did she simply want to honor this holy woman, or was she begin-ning to suspect that she herself was gifted beyond what she had up to now felt to be ordinary abilities? Did she hope by honoring Osanna, a new and popular cult figure, that she could elude her own fate, like Moses telling God that, in comparison with the articulate Aaron, he was simply not the man for the job? It seems reasonable to assume that she experienced some kind of inner turmoil and was seeking refuge from it. In that way--like any normal prophet, with the exception of Isaiah--she was reluctant to believe that God was directly calling bet. Whether at Mantua she was seeking refuge or confirmation, however, she did not quit running away. Her next pilgrimage, in 1524 to Jerusalem, is what we might expect from such a woman in those times, and having an on-site episode of hysterical illness was not untypical. People in the highly charged atmosphere of a major place of pilgrimage often have unex-pected or frightening physical experiences, but let us examine this moment more closely. She did not, like Margery Kempe, faint or have visions of herself assisting at the birth of Jesus; she did not, like 492 Review for Religious Felix Fabri, feel as if her whole life had been turned upside down. She went blind and so could not see some of the holy places. When I read that story, I wonder what she did not want to see. On her way back from Jerusalem, she stopped awhile in Venice, where city officials begged her to stay and administer a hospital for incurables there, an honor and a challenge to which she responded by fleeing quickly and returning to Brescia. Running away from this opportunity would have made sense if she returned to Brescia to take on similar responsibilities there, but she did not. She was scarcely unpacked when she booked pas-sage on another pilgrimage, this time to Rome and the celebration of the jubilee year (1525). I read this activity as a voyage of internal discovery. Those attuned to their inner voices know that "you can run, but you can-not hide," something An\gela was trying to do in ever more press- xng ways. Whatever her reasons for going to Rome, once there she managed to get an audience with Pope Clement VII. It is hard to imagine this event without the kind of bribery required by most Renaissance popes, so if she managed to see the pope without such machinations, I daresay he already knew about her and saw how she might be useful to him. In any case, if she wanted the solace of a papal blessing, she received another scare instead: he begged her to stay in Rome and administer a hospital there. Here the story gets even more dramatic because, in the face of a papal request, Angela fled lest she be compelled by obedience. Other popes might have pursued her, but Clement was not a man of swift decision. His nickname--"I will and I won't"--was given to him because be was a notorious temporizer, agonizingly slow to make any decision. His disadvantage was her victory. She got herself back to Brescia and away from Rome. Perhaps she imagined she was now safe and sound. ¯ What can one make of all this flight? I see a woman who probably knew she had led a useful life, who was self-assured and willing to help out where she was needed, but not eager to fit into a role she could not yet imagine for herself. The idea that she might be more than a reasonably pious and useful woman and the fact that young people involved in arduous and creative cor-poral works of mercy gathered around her as if around a mother hen may have strained her .self-understanding. Maybe she was just tired--she was in her late fifties--maybe she was just stub-born. I find her self-possessed, unwilling to act until she herself j~uly-August 1993 493 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns was clear about what she might do and how she might act to con-trol her own future. In "running away" she found the time and space to begin to come to terms with it. It is fascinating to see this middle-aged woman struggle with the logical implications of her own life. She had been in Brescia for nearly fifteen years, living a prayerful life and doing good works. People thought her so wise and caring that they called her madre (a tide reserved for holy women and nuns), and from morn-ing to night she was called on by people seeking her advice or drawn to her sensible simplicity, A group of courageous young people who had their own ideas about how to live the gospel in a forlorn world were drawn to her spiritual power. And an increas-ingly clear apostolate, dedicated to the care and protection of young women, had been staring beseechingly at her since Elizabeth Prato, a friend young enough and devoted enough to be her daughter, started working with lost girls in 1522. Vv'hy, then, the reluctance? And why do I find it comforting? Without intending to be cryptic, I think it is middle age, Angela's and my own. Had she been in her twenties, perhaps she would have dived right into the creative community she founded, as many of today's middle-aged sisters, in their youth, were drawn into the irresistible energy of religious life with its sacrifices and promises. But, like many of us today, she was in her fifties, not so quick to act, distracted by alternatives and the cautions that come with age. Maybe she just wanted to live out her days in the mod-est way she had been doing. After all, it is reasonable at this age to be tending the gardens of one's own soul and unreasonable to be launching a major life project. Maybe the call which had come with such clarity many years earlier now seemed distant or unreal, impractical in the present situation. VVhen we are young, the idea that God wants us for something specific seems only natural. All the scary choices--marriage, motherhood, convent life, profes-sional training--are made with the blessed ignorance of youth. But when we are older, the same idea can make us wonder if we are imagining things; we see all the reasons not to believe what we are hearing. In such cases the mysterious ways that God is famous for often manifest themselves in some dramatic way. For Angela, not unlike many of the saints, illness was a factor. Fleeing again in 1529 to Cremona in order to get away from political intrigue and an active war zone, she became gravely ill. And here, I think, she 494 Review for Religio~ts encountered an interesting temptation that may have looked like the answer to her problems. Illness and death beckoned as an option, the last flight, the final escape. She apparently thought that she might really die there and--whether with drama or res-ignation I cannot say--took to her deathbed. Yet, when one of her young supporters composed her epi-taph and read it to her, she bounced back, not as ready to go to heaven as she imagined. Again, I think, she shows the wisdom of age, for it is only when we are very young that we find a "longing for death" something to nurture in our-selves. Angela, hearing her epitaph, dis-covered new energy in herself. She still may not have been ready to lead a new movement, but neither was she ready to be led into eternity to the strains of In Paradisum. Whatever happened to her during those days in Cremona, she was resolved, at the end of this exile, to put down her traveling staff and follow the spirit she had been running from. She made one more short trip to Varolla that winter, to renew her memories of the Holy Land-- a symbol for her sense of purpose--then returned to Brescia and moved into a small room in Elizabeth Prato's house near the church of St. Afra. Now nearly sixty, Angela tucked into this new stage of her life with determination. She lived even more austerely, spent more time in prayer, and began to instruct her spiritual daughters. It is probably only a geographical coincidence that Prato's house was near the church of St. Afra, a 4th-century prostitute who achieved sainthood through martyrdom; but it is interesting that the early work of Angela's group was partly directed at.opening possibili-ties for "penitent women," a euphemism .for prostitutes. By 1532 Angela had gathered a small group around her and developed a rather extraordinary and yet quite simple idea: all the women would engage in an exterior apostolate and lead vir-ginal and virtuous lives, but would take no vows. In its broad out-lines this plan is reminiscent of the Beguines, religious associations of women begun in the 12th century in Belgium and the All the scary choices-- marriage, motherhood, convent life, professional training-- are made with the blessed ignorance of youth. July-Augt~t 1993 495 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns Netherlands. Their success in the 14th century did not impress itself upon the clerical mind so much as the fact that they took no vows and were not subject to the rules of any order. Did Angela know about them? Was she attracted by their relative autonomy? Did she think their exp+riment was worth another try? Her idea was so simple and so revolutionary that it boggled the minds of the authorities: women would commit themselves to an apostolate--the care, protection, and education of girls--and they would promise lifelong fidelity to consecrated virginity. We may consider how her plan might have threatened men. Pious men would see women able to lead useful virtuous lives without their advice, and "men of the world," accustomed to pursuing an occasional dalliance, might now have to sneak into the house late at night, only to be met with the soulful glances of an at-home daughter vowed to virginity. Angela's notion of governance was also disturbing. However much she said about obedience to authorities, the Holy Spirit was her real teacher, and so she stipulated for her daughters. Her desire to trust the activity of the Holy Spirit in the individual heart, however, did not appeal to male authorities. On the con-trary, it frightened them profoundly. Charles Borromeo--still in diapers when Angela died--found the idea of an unmediated Holy Spirit speaking directly to the heart and conscience of individual women wildly dangerous. The changes made by this young arch-bishop of Milan in Angela's Rule are not surprising to anyone with even a minimalist feminist consciousness. Borromeo was a man of his times; Angela was a woman ahead of hers. I find it fascinating that, unlike some other reformers and founders such as Teresa of Avila, Angela did not invoke the com-mands of Christ to carry out her purpose or to solidify her sense of authority. She was sure that what she was doing was made pos-sible by and would be sustained by God, but she exhibited no need to couch her ideas in the language of mystical certainty. Perhaps because she was single and surrounded by eager disci-ples she had no need to talk about divine directives. Perhaps she did not have any. Her ideas about community seem to follow directly from her own experience, an extension of her practical holiness. The memory of her vision--by now no more than a vague request to a bereaved girl--and a st.eady relationship with God were enough for her. The practicality and ordinariness of her plans made her an 496 Review for Religious inspired leader with amazing insight into the needs of women. The frescoes she commissioned for her oratory--the meeting space and prayer room for her young group--constitute a kind of "womanspace" in which her young followers could imagine new possibilities for themselves. Angela's frescoes gave her fol-lowers examples of spiritual heroism. Looking around in that room, young women saw Angela's models. Ursula, Elizabeth, Paula, Eustochium, and, by some accounts, Catherine of Alexandria make exquisite sense and testify to the power of Angela's self-concept. She did not choose prepubescent martyrs or women noted for fasting and silence; she selected strong, bright, self-confident women. It is worth lingering on this point. Although the Catholic tra-dition has a long list of impressive women saints, women whose sanctity rests on suffering, self-effacement, and masochistic penances often predominate. That Angela did not choose such models for her girls speaks eloquently, not only to Angela's time, but also to our own. The women in her murals are all.mature, educated, learned, single, undaunted by male threats or violence, and autonomous in their fashion. Like Angela herself, these women exhibit an inner certainty and independence, making no great claims for themselves, but creating atmospheres of respect by their clearheaded, fearless lives. Even if we look at the under-side of their stories--Elizabeth's sick relationship with her spiri-tual director, for example--the last line of the story is one of strength rather than brokenness. All these women are virgins-- some belatedly, some, like Ursula, spectacularly--and all com-bine devotion to learning with lives of Christlike action. Within two years of the setting up of the oratory, Angela and twenty-eight of the young women who regularly visited that col-orful space signed a book promising to serve faithfully as members of the company of St. Ursula. Within five years that number more than quintupled, and Angela died, leaving behind a growing group, three small documents, and a legacy of self-reliance. How does one survive in a world where, in Yeats's descrip-tion, "the centre cannot hold"? Angela's writings suggest that she endured by reliance on the Holy Spirit, self-confidence, adapt-ability, and kindness. She assumed that her daughters would sur-vive and that God would somehow take care of them, but I see no evidence that she had much stake in gathering a group that would last forever. She does not appear to have been much of a worrier, 3%dy-~lugust 1993 497 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns perhaps because she thought of herself as a mother and had such a fearless concept of motherhood. Angela's model of mothering was dominated neither by the medieval bias that considered women to be morally and intellec-tually inferior nor by Renaissance romanticizing. In her reckon-ing, a mother is loving, but also demanding; tough as well as flexible; able to embody both divine mercy and divine judgment. As CarolynWalker Bynum has shown, these qualities are partic-ularly important in contrast to concepts of divine motherhood that we find in the writings of medieval monks. For them, moth-ers are eternally nurturing, never critical, always available, in other words, stereotypical in the worst ways. Angela's concept of motherhood is the best indicator of her independent spirit. Like the great female mystics of Helfta-- Gertrude the Great, Mechtild--she was able to look into the mir-ror and see herself and her daughters as powerful even as they committed themselves to lives of service. She managed for much of her life to be what many of us hope eventually to become, self-accepting, aware of life's bleak realities without being defeated by them, and so quietly self-confident that it seems not to have occurred to her that she would not be able to do what needed to be done. In managing to live without marrying or entering a convent, and seeing no reason why other women could not do the same, she may have failed to recognize the extraordinary qualities of her own personality, but in that, too, I see modest ambitions con-cealing a powerful sense of purpose. If I can do this, she seems to say, so can you. Little Wonder that young women were attracted to her. She looks out from the past, not with directives, but with encouragement. "Take heart," she says, "I have confidence in you." The word that dominates her writings is kindness, the notion that people can teach more effectively, pray more openly, and act in the world more compellingly insofar as they remember to be tender, encouraging, loving. The ability of hers to enable her fol-lowers by encouraging them to trust themselves is no small thing to emulate in these times of confusion and anxiety about the future of religious life. Because I find Angela's life a statement about women's oppor-tunities, I think she is something of a feminist hero. Among other things, feminism is a countercultural movement related to the ways women are taught to act and to imagine themselves. As 498 Review for Religiozts someone deeply committed to women in an age that was deter-mined to keep women in lives of subservience, Angela was coun-tercultural. Her relationships, attitudes, and actions did not fit the norm for Renaissance women, nor did they fit into the accepted molds for "pious" laywomen. She did not take up residence with a man in order to have an overseer, for example, nor did she count it a danger to faith to be living outside the control of a husband or a bishop. When she says, in Counsel number 7, to follow the old Law but lead a new Life, she makes a countercultural statement. In the ways she used her own expe-rience to make her life and the lives of other women better, she did then what feminists urge women to do now. Like women in most times, she knew that she could not operate as men do, by domi-nating a situation, and so learned to lead by other means. She was a madre, a mother and leader whose "gov-ernance" was more by example than by decree. At the same time, she was not afraid of provocative images of power, urging her fol-lowers to be "like Judith," the Israelite woman who saved her peo-ple by beheading the enemy leader, Holofernes. In her Counsels Angela suggests that her followers serve oth-ers; practice gentleness; not be anxious if they do their best; build community anywhere; teach by example; find refuge in Jesus; nur-ture those entrusted to them; honor authority in the community; and live in harmony. People can, of course, read those bits of guidance in profoundly conservative ways to suggest that Ursuline women simply comply with rightful authority and define them-selves in terms of old-fashioned virtues of maternal charity. Compassion, prayer, solidarity, and a creative imagination, they might say, have been the tools women have used for centuries to shape life toward their purposes, find they work well in traditional models. But I think it is also possible to read them as directions from a self-possessed, powerful woman to those she expected to follow her lead. The bottom line is Angela herself: she trusted her friends and counted on them to be able to make use of their own experience as she had done. As I see her legacy, she was more Because I find Angela's life a statement about women's opportunities, I think she is something of a feminist hero. Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns interested in encouraging women to trust themselves than she was in providing them with a set of rules and regulations. However one interprets her life, the things Angela did can still be done. Women today--laywomen and religious women--have moved beyond passivity and found new ways to make innovations and to ameliorate social ills, as she did. She knew how to read and respond to the sigris of the times in creative ways and assumed that her followers would, too. She was able to read the gospel in prag-matic terms, as a demand to respond to the human demands of everyday life, and left that as part of her legacy. She looked for a new form of religiou~ life within her own experience and com-bined it with the tried-and-true formulae of work and prayer and fasting to come up with something so ahead of its time that it scared the men in charge of things. That can still be done, too. Whatever happens to "religious life" over the next few years-- and there is no end of controversy about it--I believe that at least three things need to be combined with your own reading of Angela's life. These general recommendations apply to all of us. First, we need to know the Catholic tradition: to be literate about revelation, creation, redemption, Christology, grace, and the rest, not in order to hold on in an obdurate or triumphal way, but to have a solid appreciation of what Catholicism is and is not. With Angela as a model, be assured that I am not talking about the truncated tradition handed on by men, the one that excluded women. I am talking about the full, richly embodied, woman-rich tradition of Roman Catholicism. Those who teach young people know that we now stand in a stream of Catholic tradition that very few people really know or understand. Those whose lives are focused on education might be both scandalized and galva-nized by that fact. Second, we need to have a firm grasp of the sacramentality of Catholicism since it both strengthens the spirit and informs the imagination. If we understand that the things of the world are sacred, that God is often present in the most unlikely of places, then we might see new possibilities in the universe. We need, in other words, as Angela did, to cultivate our religious sensibili-ties: to paint frescoes, create new holy cards, celebrate life. Finally, I think we should read Scripture and its commentaries and make that a part of our prayer. Angela may have done good works and taught her "daughters". all afternoon, but only, I think, because she spent the mornings in St. Afra's in front of the altar, sometimes 500 Review for Religious deeply connected, sometimes wildly distracted, but always, rou-tinely, there. I was attracted to Angela Merici originally because she was a powerful woman and, in my reading, a reluctant founder. As I read and thought more about her, I was drawn to her sense of adventure, her willingness' to risk what may have looked like an idiotic experiment at a time when she may have been mostly tempted to retire. So how can Ursulines combine their founding charism--tied to Angela Merici--with tradition, sacramentality, and Scripture? The hard part of that question for me has to do with the Ursuline charism. What is it? Education? Virginity? Working with young women? The possible answers sometimes seem as multivalent as the life of the founder and perhaps, like all life forms, reflect some facet of divinity back to God in their par-ticularities. Ursulines together embody the varieties of Ursuline life in a way that highlights the many aspects of Angela that are worth emulating. The bottom line for me is confident innovation. I do not know if that constitutes a "charism," but it seems to me that it could. Seeing what needs to be done and doing it with an embracing charity, while refusing to capitulate to fears about the future, is a rather astounding legacy, as useful today as it was then. Bibliographical Notes Many of the ideas for a feminist reading come from the work I have done over the last decade on women in the Catholic Church. My New Catholic Women: A Contemporary Challenge to Traditional Religious Authority (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1985) is the best state-ment of that interest (see especially chapters 1 and 3). Joan Kelly's Women, History and Theory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984) is still the best place to start when considering the problems raised by feminist historiography. Because Kelly's work is often set within the context of Renaissance history, her essays were particu-larly useful in interpreting the context for Angela. Also, Carolyn Walker Bynum's books, especially Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982) are outstanding resources for thinking about the ways late medieval women actually thought and acted in the face of various religious and social changes. To learn about Ursulines, I began with Agnes Repplier's Mbre Marie of the Ursulines: A Study in Adventure (New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1932), which gave me some amusing and provocative insights into Angela and Ursula along with the f~scinating story of M~re Marie herself. I am most indebted, however, to Teresa. Led6chowska's marvelous two- .l~uly-Augus* 1993 501 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns volume critical biography, Angela Merici and the Company of St. Ursula: According to the Historical Documents (translated from the French by Teresa Nylan and published in Rome: Ancora, 1969). I used this amaz-ing resource to reconstruct the events of Angela's life. The interpre-tation of Angela as "fleeing" from the voice of God and as a "reluctant" founder are my own. I was also instructed by various works of Ursuline historian Irene Mahoney, whose Portraits of Angela (privately printed, 1985) and St. Angela Merici: Foundress of the Ursulines (privately printed, 1985) are excellent books, full of detail and insight. Martha Bucer's Also in Your Midst: Reflections on the Spirituality of St. Angela Merici (Green Bay, Wisconsin: Alt Publishing Co., 1990) was also helpful. Friends provided me with various notes from Ursuline conferences, especially with a very large set of materials from an international conference in Rome in 1991. I read them with great appreciation and have bor-rowed from them here. Other books cited or alluded to in this paper include E.R. Chamberlain, The Bad Popes (New York: New American Library, 1969); Louise Collins, Memoirs of a Medieval Woman: The Life and Times of Margery Kempe (New York: Thomas Crowell, 1964); Dorothy Day, Loaves and Fishes (New York: Curtis Books, 1963); James Hennesey, American Catholicism: A Histo~bv of the Catholic Community in the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1981); H.EM. Prescott, Friar Felix at Large: A 15th-Century Pilgrimage to the Holy Land (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1950); William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming," in The Collected Poems of W.B~ Yeats (New York: Macmillan, 1959); and the Penguin Dictionary of the Saints (London: Penguin Books, 1965). Progeny Imagination gives birth to a new offspring with its own world of wonder. From a procreator's seed comes a poem or a painting, a sonata Or a cathedral. each pulsing with th~ heartbeat of Progenitor-God, Giver of beauty to beauty's ministers anointed with the rite of co-creation. Anna Marie Mack SSJ 502 Review for Religious EILEEN P. O'HEA Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life I am in a hermitage. It is, again, not what I expected. The brochure made it seem inviting, a way to satisfy the desire of my heart. I wanted a place to be--to just be, be an empty vessel in God's presence. I wanted to symbolize my response to God at this point in my life and to make sure I am open, attentive to any desire or whisper of the Divine. This hermitage looks out on woods that are covered with ten inches of pure white snow. As one walks, there is no sound but the crunch of rubber boots on a would-be path and the rusde of some frozen leaves that still hang on to bare branches like icicles. To be empty before the Beloved is my desire. And so I sit cross-legged on my saffron pillow before a large wooden cross, flanked by two small icons, and a vigil light. At last, I think, desire meets fulfillment in this quiet, undistracted place. But I am distracted; I am cold. I push the thermostat knob on the small gas heater behind me to its highest set-ring. The heater begins to ci'ackle and bang continuously and make little explosive noises every six minutes or so. It robs me of silence. As darkness absorbs the light of day, I get colder and colder. I have already layered myself in all the clothes I brought with me, and I have squeezed my Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ is a psychotherapist and spiritual director. Her address is 2311 Woodbridge Street; Suite 210; St. Paul, Minnesota 55113. prayer 1993 503 O'Hea ¯ Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life I want God's truth to be straightforward-- no glitches. ice-cold feet with their two pair of socks into my new "Thinsulate" mittens. As my feet flop around on the cold wood floor, I remind myself of Emmett Kelly, the circus clown. It is not quite funny, however. I force myself to persevere for one half hour of quiet prayer, but the clanging radiator, my clanging mind, and my freez-ing body do not lead me to a place of rest. I decide it is time for the bread and cheese, the orange, and the cup of tea that are to be my supper. I watch the night as I eat. Each piece of food, each sip of tea, carries its own taste when one is so concentrated. The orange is succulent and sweet, the cheese substantial and rich, the bread mealy and nourishing, the tea satisfying. I am grateful for each. Fortified, I read the Scripture that lies open as if ready for me. I read Psalm 139 out loud and slowly, wondering as I do so if this is the place God will choose to cast some direct light and move my spirit to new understanding. I want to be awake. If I am supposed to be getting a message, if that is why I am here, I do not want to miss it. Toward the end of the psalm my spirit is thwarted by the words: "Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?" I cannot say these words; I check my own revised version of the text. It is the same. I close the book, wanting to feel glad that God knit me in my mother's womb, but put off by the dualistic image. This glitch prevents me from totally giving myself to this experience. I want God's truth to be straightforward--no glitches. After wrestling around a litde, I decide to again attempt some contemplative sitting. I drape the blanket around my head, shoul-ders, and feet. I set the timer for thirty minutes and wonder if I should. Perhaps this will be the time when I will just want to linger in God's presence unrestricted. So often when I experi-ence this desire some duty calls me away. This is partly why I am here in this hermitage--so I can linger in the sweet and loving presence of God or be carried beyond my own self-consciousness to a very deep and still place. I do not set the timer. I do not rest. I am very cold. I stay in this prayer position, waiting for the time to be over. I want to be comfortable. I am not. After twenty minutes I give up. I think of going to bed. I am tired and everything has taken too much 504 Review for Religious energy. The outhouse is the least of inconveniences, I think, as I stare blankly toward a small wooden washstand. Eight plastic gal-lon containers of water, icy cold, flank it. They are for washing, cleaning, and drinking. I do not like them. I decide it is too early to go to bed. It is only 6:45. I sit in the rocker, my glasses and I peeking out through the draped blan-kets, and begin to read about "unity." The cynical part of me wonders if Ruusbroec (or Ruysbroeck) could have written or known these things if he were as cold as I am. Another level of me intuits the abiding truth he is trying to articulate. I want to sip his words like fine wine and, like the effect of wine, feel them in all the cells of my body. But the resistance of my body and psyche to the frigid Minnesota weather that is penetrating this north-woods hermitage will not forsake its stance. Although I have only one page left to end the chapter, I do not continue. My heart is moved again by Ruusbroec's words when he writes about Christ's prayer for unity (Jn 17:21-23) and says it is the most loving prayer which Christ ever prayed for our salva-tion. I am touched that Christ was praying, that Christ too was filled with desire. Stay with this, I think; do not read further. I close the book. I go to bed. I am warmer. My mind goes back to Ruusbroec's words. I wonder: Is this the truth I am meant to penetrate? It has not quite caught hold of me deeply enough, I ruminate, but perhaps during the night my enlightenment will come. My mind casts about as my body begins to settle into the comfort of warmth. Perhaps Sharon, the woman running this retreat house, is a mystic who can read my soul and tell me things that God wants me to know. I fall asleep. I dream of Sharon. Morning comes. I hesitate to get up, to begin the ordeal of being cold again. I pray, eat breakfast (I do not have to dress because I am already wearing all my clothes), and go for a walk. The atmo-sphere is frigid; the sky is gray" and overcast. Ithink of leaving early. I do not need bodily hardship, I muse; things have been phys-ically hard enough this past year. I need solace and nurturing. However, I counter this thought by reminding myself that I am old enough in hermitage experiences to know one must let them be what they are, not impose oneself or one's desires on them. Let God be God, I remind myself, and you be an open space. As I reenter the hermitage, I realize I dreamt of Sharon, but can only remember her saying it is about change. I wonder if this 3~uly-A~t 1993 505 O'Hea ¯ Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life My time here has taught me how hard it is to contemplate when one is reduced to survival. is significant and a message from God or if it is a matter of my own projections and happenstance. Rather than get caught in this distraction, I reassert the pact I have secretly made with Divine Love and say: "You know my great love for you, you know I desire only you and your will; then, if you want me to move in a certain direction or to know something about you or me, you must let me know it in a way that is not obscure and leaves me free of doubt. I am open to you, but you must remove the obstacles that prevent me from knowing or seeing your will clearly. I am totally dependent on you for this and feel it is not too much to ask of one who is in a relationship of mutual love. In a word, do your stuff and I'll do mine." Inside I sit in the rocker that I have moved as close to the gas heater as possible. I pick up my pen and yellow pad and begin to write: My time here has taught me how hard it is to con-template when one is reduced to survival. Survival sets one's consciousness at the level of basic and immediate, human needs and so occupies it with food, clothing, and shelter that it gives no attention to deeper lev-els of reality. Consequently, these deeper levels of consciousness-- places where intimacy with Divine Being is realized and expressed--are, practically speaking, obliterated. The heinousness of human sin, its death-dealing power, is many-leveled. Starving peoples in Africa and war-torn countries come to mind. I put my pen down and pray: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison. It is afternoon.I am still cold. In a few hours my time here will be over. I do not want to leave. As I begin to gather my things I think: This hermitage time was neither "lights on" or "lights off," as Ruth Burrows describes moments of the spiritual journey. I console myself with the thought that I came to be an empty ves-sel before God. Before leaving I sit one last time on my saffron pillow to pray. As I do so, I see outside my window a brown oak leaf surrender to a current of air, then glide gently down to the waiting snow. It is sitting there now, very still, ready in due season to become one with the earth. I sit too, quietly waiting, attentive, attuned to Love. ~06 Review for Religious ROBERT MCCOWN Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation Or What You Always Wanted to Know About Being a Mystic But Were Afraid to Ask pmeople of the ancient world strove in many ways to com-unicate with whoever they believed to be out there, with whoeveg made the world and somehow controlled their lives and destinies. They offered in sacrifice choice things: grain or wine poured out, sheep or oxen slaughtered then immolated with fire. The smoke, they thought, would rise before the gods with a pleas-ing odor. Th.ey played flutes, used prayer wheels, painted their bodies, stamped their feet, and babbled. They hoped to get the gods' attention, to bring down favors from them. Human nature has not changed with the New Dispensation, nor have the ways men and women try to pray, except these are now purified and made gentle by revelation. Christ invited us to intimacy with his Father, and we respond by lifting our hearts to him: in the Eucharist (above ~11, the true and ultimate sacrifice), in vocal prayer (such as the Rosary), and in private prayer. We address God with words often chosen from the Psalms or given us by Christ himself or by his saints. These same words, as we use them, enrich our hearts and minds with wisdom. Robert McCown SJ has traveled widely in Japan, Thailand, India, and China. He has for the past two years been teaching literature in the University of Hangzhou, on China's eastern coast. His current address is: The Shrine of the Holy Cross; EO. Box 1497; Daphne, Alabama 36526. aTuly-dugust 1993 507 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation Zen has been used for decades by Christian contemplatives who came under the influence of ascetics of the East. But there are problems with using words in prayer--even God's words. Over time we tend to multiply them and to load onto them our own intellectual and emotional baggage, allowing our selfishness to co-opt their meaning. So in some prayers we might even want to dispense with words, to use body language only, which can sometimes be for us clearer, deeper, more pow-erful than spoken words. This, I think, is the prayer Christ meant when he said, "When you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret." In such private and largely nonvocal prayer we offer God ourselves in our silent presence, and God responds to us, creatively, in our lives. This kind of prayer goes under a variety of descriptive names: meditation, contem-plation, and mental prayer. There is a long history of it in the church, going back to her earliest years, but it flourished especially in Europe in the fourteenth through the six-teenth centuries with a succession of great spiritual directors. St. Ignatius Loyola taught his followers in his Spiritual Exercises to meditate upon structured concepts and upon chiseled images--both anchored in powerful words--to explore the destructiveness of their sins, to accept forgiveness for them, and then, centering their lives in Christ, to redirect them to God in service of the church. But he reserved a choice place at the end of these Exercises for his largely wordless, though still rich in imagery, Contemplation for Obtaining Divine Love. Others led their fol-lowers to shun in their meditations activities of both the intelli-gence and the imagination and, instead, to go beneath these, down to the marrow of the soul, to encounter the Father in that secret "room" they felt Jesus was speaking of. Zen as practiced by Christians is, in many ways, like this lat-ter form of prayer. It is not new, for it has been used for decades by Christian contemplatives who came under the influence of ascetics of the East. Although in recent years Zen has experienced in the West a growth in popularity, many devout people, unfor-tunately, have misconceptions of it, bringing mistrust. 508 Review for Religious Zen masters themselves often give little help in understand-ing their elusive discipline. When one puts questions to them about it, they often smile and remain silent. I believe this is because they see Zen not as a doctrine but as an activity--and thus an experience--so simple and immediate that, when one attempts to conceptualize it, he only obscures it, as when one tries to define the experience of love or of life. But I feel once people see what Zen is not--certainly not a rival to Christian spirituality--they may wish to try to do Zen themselves and thus to experience the extraordinary benefits claimed to derive from it. Let us consider first--lacking a better term--traditional Zen. Rather than enter the question of the historical origins of it, let it suffice to say it has been practiced for more than 1400 years. Concerning the question of its place of origin--whether India, Tibet, China, or Japan--let us concede simply that it developed in the East, probably in a pantheistic culture. But this should not influence Zen's practical value to us as a mode of meditation any more than the lack of faith of a philosopher should keep us from benefiting from his thinking. After all, a key foundation of scholas-tic philosophy and theology is a series of clear concepts St. Thomas found in the writings of the pagan Aristotle that first came to Europe through the works of Islamic thinkers. Of grea~er importance for our purpose are the reasons Zen developed into the form it ultimately took. These we hope we can intuit as we consider the practice of Zen itself; from these, perhaps, we can gain an insight into why Zen has been found by Christian con-templatives of former times and today to be useful in their prayer life. To do Zen one follows a series of seven conventions. So that our efforts remain not an exercise in looking only but translate into a creative experience, let the gentle reader observe successively these conven-tions as we set them forth: 1. Having chosen carefully the place for our meditation--as free as possible from distrac-tions, harsh lights, sounds, and drafts--we assume the Zen position, as shown in the illus-tration on this page. In this position we join our hands and bow from the waist in the tra-ditional oriental gesture of courtesy which here means, "Now I begin my meditation." A July-Aug~wt 1993 509 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation similar bow at the end will mean, "Now I end my meditation." If we must stand to attend to something--best disconnect the tele-phone beforehand--or we have an itch or a cramp we simply can-not ignore, we bow as we break off meditating, then again as we resume it. This puts parentheses around each session of our med-itation, separating it from interruptions coming from us and from our world around us. 2. We try to keep our backs as erect as comfortably possible: the base of the spine is the key. We do not worry if at first it tires quickly. After a couple of weeks of daily meditation, it will surprise us by its new toughness, even during longer sessions of Zen. 3. Our legs should be crossed as well as possible, but com-fortably, making allowances for bad knees and general decrepi-tude. We strive to keep faithful to the time we agree with ourselves to meditate daily. Twenty-minute sessions are good to begin with. As we go longer, circulato .ry pain in our legs can force us to take a break. For this, we bow, stand, join hands before us, pace the room for two minutes; then, taking again the Zen position, we bow, and resume meditating. 4. Our hands and wrists should rest comfortably on the insides of our thighs--left four fingers on top of right four fingers, the fingers underneath press up dynamically against those above, while the tips of the thumbs touch together ever so lighdy and del-icately. Here we aim to combine a relaxed and stable dynamism of our fingers with an alert delicacy in the touch of our thumbs. 5. Our head should be erect, tilted slightly forwar.d comfort-ably, and with chin in. Our tongue should rest relaxed in the base of our mouth, and we avoid all nervous movement of tongue and jaw. Lips should be relaxed and slighdy parted to permit exhaling through the mouth. 6. Our eyes should remain half closed and out of focus. If we close our eyes, we will go to sleep;, if we focus them on anything, that thing will become a distraction. 7. Our breathing should be not from the chest but from the diaphragm. We loosen our belts, allowing our lower abdomen full freedom to expand and contract. We inhale, knowing the air we take in through our nostrils will heal and give peace, and the air we exhale through our mouth will carry out those things that rob us of peace. This breathing is indeed the key to both tradi-tional and Christian Zen because, once we are in observance of these conventions, the conscious listening to the sound of our 510 Review for Religious breathing becomes the central continuous deliberate activity dur-ing the entire time we are meditating. W.e strive to make this breathing more and more regular, more deeply from the diaphragm. We seek to become increasingly absorbed in repose-fully listening to and centering ourselves in its sound. As we descend deeper into this centering, the thoughts, desires, and images that our mind naturally gener-ates will diminish to nil. If some persist, we do not fight against them, but, by continuously renewing this reposeful centering, we ignore them. If they con-tinue aggressively, it is probably because we are not observing certain of the conventions above. Perhaps our hands have slipped away from the position of dynamism and delicacy, or we are permitting nervous activity in our mouth. But most often the reason will be found in our breathing being not from the diaphragm, or our not centering ourselves in its sound. Striving meticulously to maintain these conventions, in spite of the turmoil our daily lives may be subjected to at the time, and striving, as well, to pass the whole period with a mini-mum of surrenders to needs to scratch or to shift our body's mem-bers, make for steady progress over the months, over the years. Indeed this striving for perfection in every detail--in posture and in centering in our breathing--becomes the daily bread and but-ter of Zen meditation. Even the pain we will feel in our legs after thirty or so min-utes of continuous meditation can be turned to our advantage. As this pain grows, we seek to enter it, to center within it, and, as it were, to find in it a certain rest. Thus our concentration upon our breathing will become more complete and more central, and foreign thoughts will be more completely excluded. The above conventions are, curiously, the essentials of Zen as it has developed over the past millefinium. Being in essence non-verbal, nonconceptual, and nonimaginative, Zen does not lend itself to being systematized. To those practicing Zen, it is the experience that matters, whereas the conflicting ways one tries to describe or analyze this experience are to them secondary at best. But for us Westerners, who look for reasons to be persuaded, let us ask what we are doing when we do Zen, and why. Simply stated, following these conventions meticulously permits us a Zen does not lend itself to being systematized. j~ldy-August 1993 511 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation maximum control of both our physical and mental activities, and from this we are able to suspend them partially. Thus, during meditation, the Zen position encompasses and brings under con-trol in appropriate ways every member and organ of our body-- even our heart--which, we will find, will beat slower as we descend deeper into the centering. While consciously listening to the sound of our breathing itself, we can make it more regular, more from the diaphragm, and it will further become the key to controlling and emptying the activities of our mind: memory, intelligence, will, and imagination, including especially emotions. Thus, in doing Zen we strive to make each session of medi-tation both as dynamic and as empty as possible. As far as I know there is no better way than this to disengage our physical and mental powers over an extended period of time while still con-tinuing awake and alert. Anyone attempting to observe self-imposed silence and recollection during a conventional retreat knows how recalcitrant our bodies and our minds are to this kind of discipline. Not even in sleep itself, which we now know is filled with both physical and mental .activity, is there such a diminish-ment of these as there is in Zen meditation. This partial suspension of our bodily and mental activities for a set period of time daily is the objective of Zen, and from this derive its singular benefits. As we strive for this disengage-ment, and achieve it in a growing degree, we are actually induc-ing our physical and mental powers into a daily, deep repose. Not only are each member of our bodies, but also the thoughts of our hearts, put to rest during our meditation: our conflicting values competing for dominance; our desires, inordinate or not; our ambitions and passionate longings; and our memories, both joy-ful and painful, with ruminations of past grievances. Thus we turn over, to our own mysterious powers of healing within us, our bodies, minds, and hearts; and from this daily repose and renewing of the whole person, a peace is given. We speak, of course, of daily meditation-Z-not over weeks, but over months, over years. If we do Zen faithfully, we will become aware of certain gifts that mysteriously enter our lives. We are surprised by new insights that fall out of nowhere into our minds, perhaps not during the time of meditation, but at other times dur-ing the day or night. We acquire a deeper understanding of our own best values, of how to bring to bear our nobler motivations. We acquire a deeper understanding of our own weaknesses, and we 512 Review for Religious see ways which perhaps we did not see before to put to rest inor-dinate desires. We become less afflicted by painful images of griefs or disappointments; and we are less obsessed by regrets, by per-sonal defeats and shames. Even memories of hurts from deep in our childhood, of which we are perhaps only barely aware but which still send poisonous tentacles up into our present relationships, can be uncovered and healed. We are mystified by how our own recuperative powers can now work within us. Just as, for exam-ple, when one morning we awake and realize happily that at last we are he~iled of a drawn-out bout with the flu, so in practicing Zen we might one day realize that now--but not before--we are able to turn with sincere affection toward a friend who has deeply hurt us. In short, what we experience in ourselves is a self-rehabilitat-ing human being, perhaps with long-immobilized personal gifts now renewed. From this, then, our own creative energies can emerge unencumbered, with a new freedom. This healing will often spread to others around us in our family, in our community and work place, even when they are not aware we meditate. As described thus far, traditional Zen is not intrinsically a religious action; it is, thus, neither theistic nor atheistic. Hence the curious smiles coming from Zen masters when one asks if, as practitioners of Zen, they believe in God. Somewhere further on in this direction lies the experience of enlightenment. Zen masters describe enlightenment as a percep-tion totally beyond reason, beyond imagining; intuitive, yet at the core of our life itself. All of Zen teaching, they add, is but an effort to take the disciple beyond concepts and images that stand for reality, and put him or her in intimate contact with that real-ity itself. It is in vain, they maintain, to pursue intellectually this stage, since all ratiocination on this point is useless, futile, and confusing. Thomas Merton calls this "the Zen fact" and com, pares it to an alarm clock. When it goes off, the sleeper 1) does not hear and just keeps on sleeping; or 2) making a misguided response, in effect turns the alarm off, permitting him to go back to sleep; or 3) he jumps out of bed with a shout of astonishment that it is so late. Zen is the alarm clock, it merely enables us to wake up and become aware. It teaches nothing. It points. Merton continues: "But we in the West, in ego-centered practicality and ¯ . . manipulation of everything, always pass from one thing to another, from cause to effect, from the first to the next to the last and then back to the first. Everything always points to something 3~dy-August 1993 513 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation else and hence we never stop anywhere because we cannot; as soon as we pause, the escalator reaches the end of the ride and we have to get off and find another one. Nothing is allowed just to be and to mean itself; everything has to signify something else. Zen is designed to frustrate the mind thinking in such terms. 'The Zen fact,' whatever it may be, always lands across our road like a fallen tree beyond which we cannot pass. Nor are such 'facts' lacking in Christianity--the Cross for example . . . which gives Christians a radically new consciousness." The way some Zen masters describe enlightenment, as an experience of the unity of all being, reflects the monistic, cos-motheistic, philosophical climate of Zen's origins; and it can be disconcerting to a Christian. Yet, if one takes seriously one of the central teachings of Zen itself~namely, that it is the experience and not the concept of it that matters--then one may judge pan-theistic doctrine as the above to be not central to Zen. Indeed such might be for us the "misguidance" that prompts us to turn off the alarm clock, to go back to sleep and miss the experience. The "fact" of Zen is simply the experience that puts us in touch with this ultimate personal reality itself, and that, I believe, must at last come down to be our own individual living soul--the con-crete reality, not a concept of it. We cannot think our way to our soul's living presence, or analyze or visualize it; but in doing Zen we are brought to the experience .of the soul's availing itself of space to renew itself, and then of its mysterious healing powers in renewing our body, mind, and heart. Being in Zen an apprentice of only some twenty-five years, a full-blown experience of enlightenment, with 'its sudden flash of intuition, is still unknown to me. Nor do I seek it as such; as Christian, I try to keep my heart open to whatever grace the Lord sends and to whatever form he wants it to take. But before we dismiss Zen and turn off the alarm clock, I suggest we take seriously stated opinions of respected specialists, not only of such as Thomas Merton or Dom Aelred Graham, but also of Dr. John C. H, Wu, an eminent jurist and diplomat, a Chinese convert to Catholicism, and a scholar, who is able to write of Zen not from hearsay or study alone, but from within. He is not afraid to write that he brought Zen and Confucianism with him into Christianity. Looking further back, I have been assured by Carmelites who are specialists in both their tradition of con-templation and in Christian Zen that these two traditions are 514 Review for Religious essentially the same: what Teresa of Avila, in her own inimitable way, and what John of the Cross--and what Meister Eckhart 200 years before them--practiced, perhaps unknown to them, was essentially Christian Zen. But what is Christian Zen, which we will now call centering prayer, and how is it prayer if traditional Zen is not? Will an attempt to use Zen in prayer, contrary to what Zen masters main-rain-- that one cannot accommodate true Zen to any ulterior pur-pose- render it ineffectual? To answer, let me offer an analogy. Consider a ballet apprentice who works daily on her technique. She may give little thought to what ballet grammar--the body language she is learning--might be saying or to whom; she metic-ulously strives only to perfect every move, every step of it. For the present, the immediate benefits of her efforts--pride in pleasing a respected teacher, satisfaction in mastering an art--are suffi-cient reasons for striving for self-discipline; and she grows daily in poise and beauty. But one day a certain impresario discovers her and offers her a part in a new production. Now she has two things she lacked before: a role, a dramatispersona to live within, and an envisioned audience. These give form and finality to her efforts. Just as this ballerina can adapt her previously acquired skills to this new orientation, so also, as many Christian contemplatives have found, the skills and the strengths of traditional Zen, with little change in its dynamics, can be fitted into the larger synthesis of Christian prayer. Neither our ballerina above, nor a person doing Zen medi-tations daily, acts without a certain basic desire, or even a pas-sion, which drives their actions, enabling them to keep a daily commitment. One must first wish to do what is necessary to become, to be--whether in ballet, in Zen, or in Christian prayer. Satisfaction found therein will, in turn, sustain and nourish the motivation. When the prophet Samuel was a small boy sleeping in the temple, he was awakened repeatedly by a voice calling, "Samuel, Samuel!" Each time he got up and went to his master, the elderly priest Eli, and asked what he wanted. Each time Eli replied, "I didn't call, my son; go and lie down again." Again Samuel heard the voice calling, and again he went to the old priest. But this time Eli, perceiving it was thd Lord calling, instructed him, "The next time he calls, you must respond, 'Speak, Lord, for your ser-vant is listening.'" Whether that night Samuel really heard the 3~uly-August 1993 515 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation voice of God, or whether he heard only, as he had many times before, the wind blowing through the porticos of the temple, his listening and then giving response is the same. It is the reality from which the call came that makes the difference between an obedient child and the prophet-to-be. We must listen continu-ously to the voice of the Lord who speaks to us when and how he chooses. If we find traditional Zen apt for putting us in contact with the healing and peace-giving powers of our human spirit within, how much more will we find centering prayer apt for opening our beings to the Spirit of God within us, to surrendering ourselves to this Healer, this Comforter? It will be this Spirit's voice we listen for within the sound of our breathing, as she leads us into that silence within, where, using utterances beyond human words, with ineffable groaning, she cries, "Abba, Father!" Far from taking from Zen its dignity, thi~ carries it to its fulfillment. What a grace it is that Christian contemplatives discovered Zen and were able to enrich Christian asdeticism with it. The Christ-centered dynamics of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, especially when renewed yearly, give peace and build motivations to service, but they were not meant to be used daily over a long period of time when they can become exhausting. Centering prayer, on the other hand, not in contrast to the Exercises but ancillary to them, offers spiritual repose. Many of Ignatius's instructions can be applied with profit to Zen.medita-tion: making preparation before meditation by spiritual reading and acts of self-denial; cultivating honesty and sincerity in eval-uating our efforts at praying; making from time to time reviews of moments of joy or of sadness; and, with the retreat master's help, using carefully Ignatius's instructions on the discernment of spirits. In sessions of centering prayer, unlike in other forms of med-itation, one does not pray the words of any pious text, nor even of Holy Scripture. Words, whether we want them to or not, will bloom into images, and images invite concepts which multiply, and thus we are on the way to taking our bodies and minds out of that total surrender to the Spirit, the true mode of centering prayer. Rather, we should see each session of this prayer as that time when the Bridegroom is present before us, looking into our eyes, speaking into our hearts, so we put aside during this qual-ity time his love-letters from times past, no matter how treasured 516 Review for Religious they are. With no more than a bow of adoration and a word to greet him by name, such as, "Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner," we surrender ourselves with total passivity to his Spirit within us, who will shape our minds and hearts according to his holy will. In this action of the Spirit, one is reminded of a great, silent, mov-ing body of water, imperceptibly and with ease, carrying all obstacles before it. We will look forward to this daily prayer as the best moment of our day, and find in it an anchor for the rest of our lives. Let me mention now one special blessing I have received through centering prayer. When I was a very small child, I once heard my older brothers, one six, the other seven years old, talking about how hell is "for ever and ever--for eternity, which never, ever ends." My mind became beset with fearful images of this eternity, like "the void of infin-ity" that so terrified Pascal. These were most acute when I was ill, which I often was, with high fever, and with accompanying nightmares. During these I often dreamed I was looking up and saw the ceiling above me (and all reality with it) recede up and up and up, for ever and ever. My sight was forced to go with it, on and on, and I could never, ever make it stop; and that was eternity. And I felt desperately alone and forsaken. I could not turn off the nightmare, until my screams brought my father or mother who would awake me and comfort me. This terror remained with me even into later life. When I discovered Zen meditation, which then became for me centering prayer, I took up the custom, after meditating and during the brief prickly feeling as my legs recovered circulation, of lying back on the rug and looking straight up at the ceiling, never forgetting that this was the way I had so fearfully felt I was look-ing into the face of eternity. But over the years, gradually, imper-ceptibly, the terror departed. In its place has grown a trust in God's mercy and, even, flashes--ever so brief and fleeting--of joy in looking forward to my death, which now is approaching apace. These graces I consider among the most precious of my life. Remembering how the ancients strove to get the gods' atten-tion, we know we have already the Father's attention in his son, Jesus, who taught us to pray to his father by offering, not per- We must listen continuously to the voice of the Lord who speaks to us when and how he chooses. 3~ly-Aug'ust 1993 517 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation ishable gifts of animals slaughtered or wine or grain poured out, but one infinitely more desirable: our total selves. This same Jesus promised, moreover, "whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you." Jesus must have meant precisely that, unless we ask for something that is not good for us, then he will give us something else--something far better for us. Centering prayer, as an ancilla to the Spiritual Exercises, more than any other prayer method I know, enables us to put ourselves into this total trust-ing frame of mind, not stating what we think we want, or need, or when, but silently taking Jesus at his word and waiting. The Father, who knows our needs far better than we do, will respond; and why wouldn't he, since Jesus said he would? Night Prayer The saints have left for the day, their stained-glass coves Are dark. The night, that deep iconoclast, Obscures the panes with his breath, as a prayer revolves Inside me, calling to the blackened east. I close my eyes and linger there, in the glow Of a bleak and fallen image of the outcast world, And wander through remembered brambles that grow Where squandered immortalities should. When young I crossed an ocean. Nearing land Candescent seeds arose from the water's rim As if sown in the sky by a hopeful, graceful hand To mingle with a tide of stars, to bloom unseen. From the altar candles' final gasp of light Two tendrils of smoke vanish into night. Kevin McCaffrey OP 518 Revie~v for Religious MARY CORONA God's Human Face Revealed: A Retreat in Wales Iyhad been living and working in Amman, Jordan, for eight ears when in 1989 I began reading The Journeying Self, by Diarmuid McGann. Becoming deeply involved with it, I came across these words: "The journey of faith begins at the Lord's invitation. He finds us in our places of marginal existence, where we hunger for liberation." I did not go further than that for sev-eral months, but those lines I read over and over again. I could wrest no personal meaning from them, and yet somehow they riveted me. At the same time I was picking my way through a book by Karl Rahner. Being no scholar, "picking" is how I cope with Rahner, and yet I am hugely attracted by him. Of the many sentences I jotted down knowing that I would return to them, here are a few: In contemplation the pray-er is intent on hearing an utter-ance of God never given before . We need the courage to believe that God will say some-thing permanent. It will happen when God is ready. God places me in complete freedom. He deals with me leaving intact my autonomy and self-direction. God is Love and in the face of that--I decide. There were many more, and while I went about my life in community and my teaching duties, these thoughts floated in and out of my mind whenever my interior screen was empty, setting up such a longing that I knew I would need to respond sooner or later. Mary Corona FMDM lives at 6, St. Anthony's Road; Forest Gate; London E7 9QA; England. .~uly-Auguxt 1993 519 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed Remote PreparationmI Go to Anjara The time to plan my annual retreat came round. I thought of Jerusalem, where I had made retreats before, but I had little heart for going there because of the heavy military presence at the time. Though Jordan itself has no retreat facilities, I knew that Father Joseph Na'maat, a diocesan priest in the north of Jordan, had spare rooms in a separate building which anyone was welcome to use on a self-catering basis. He said if I came during July I would have the entire building to myself. With typical Jordanian courtesy he also told me that his house and his table would be mine anytime I felt lonely. Josephine, his housekeeper, would, he assured me, keep an eye on things and make sure I was all right. The fee was so small it was a joke. So eight days on my own loomed. How would I work it out? I went along the shelves of our library and found Rahner's Eight Day Retreat and a paperback copy of the Ignatian Exercises. From my room I picked up my Bible and missal and that was all. I think the journey of faith McGann discusses began for me that day. I felt quite naked going off with what seemed so little in the way of resources. Anjara is a village in the northern Jordanian countryside. Feeling at home in the Arab world and having enough Arabic to do my own shopping, talk with people, and get by generally, I had no fears along those lines. On my arrival I was given a warm welcome by Father Joseph and the redoubtable Josephine. Then, after being shown "my" building and handed the keys, I heard the oft-repeated words "If it gets too lonely, you know where we are!" That first evening I worked out a program for the eight days, allotting time for the breviary, rosary, and Scripture reading. I then marked out three separate hours daily for prayer, leaving time for rest and recreation which, during the eight days, would take the form of walks, sitting on the roof in the sun absorbing the view, and wandering in my host's extensive orchard followed by his floppy old dog. Knowing nothing previously about the Exercises, I soon aban-doned the paperback because it made no sense to me.I stuck to the Bible and the missal and continued to read over the sentences from McGann and Rahner which had so affected me. For the full eight days I spoke to no one, except the dog. I waved to Father Joseph each morning after Mass and that was the excitement over 520 Review for Religious for the day. Through the grace of God, I remained faithful to all to which I had committed myself. On my final evening Josephine came to bring me over to sup-per and, like the hedgerow and byways folk of the gospel, I was compelled to attend. If you have never experienced an Arab sup-per or indeed Arab hospitality, you have missed one of life's love-lier moments. We sat on the verandah eating, talking, and--I must admit--drinking slightly too much of Father Joseph's homemade wine. The sun slowly sank behind the brown hills. Lamps were lit, creating a soft pool of light in the velvet darkness, and the night insects began their con-cert. We sat on. Eventually, however, and with real reluctance I rose, to a duet from Father Joseph and Josephine of "So soon?" I went to bed that night heavy with good food and wine and quite drunk--no, not from wine, but from the heady smell of honeysuckle and jasmine coupled with the heart-swell that comes from having spent a long summer evening with friends. The following day I returned to Amman knowing that I must do the long retreat. This is where the invitation mentioned by McGann and previously so dimly perceived was pointing. What a Franciscan was doing being so convinced that a Jesuit approach to life and prayer was the right one, I cannot say. But convinced I was. I waved to Father Joseph each morning after Mass and that was the excitement over for the day. To Wales I set about obtaining permissions for the following year and began to look for a place. Almost everyone I spoke to suggested looking for a Jesuit-run center, saying this w6uld be right for what I had in mind. But I prefer retreat houses run by women: they are cozier, and I like my creature comforts. After a few blanks I got a positive answer from a small guest-cum-retreat house, Coleg y Groes, in North Wales. Yes, they could take me. Yes, one of them could direct me. Yes, they were in the heart of the coun-try, and to all my other questions yes . . . yes . . . yes. I booked, hesitant to share with some of my more conservative friends that all was not as they might expect. I would be alone without the support of a group; I would be directed by a deacon, not a priest; 3~uly-Aug~tst 199.t 521 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed worse still, an Anglican deacon; worse again, a woman Anglican deacon! What would Ignatius have said? In August 1990 I returned to England, and in July 1991 I traveled to Wales. Arriving in time for supper, I found the small 18th-century house nestled behind the Anglican parish church in the village of Corwen. My room was very nice, with the promise of quiet. My quick eye noticed the electric kettle, tea bags, and coffee. It all augured well. I began to get the sinking feeling that comes from having made a big decision and then eeing the signs going wrong. I Meet My Directress Margaret, who was to direct me, suggested I join the other guests for supper that first evening; after that I would dine alone. Supper was served in a delightful low-beamed room with a huge fireplace cut from Welsh stone. Flowers were in the deeply set window alcoves, and the whole place exuded security and good living. I began, however, to get the sinking feeling that comes from having made a big decision and then seeing the signs going wrong. To my Roman mind the conversation became so Anglican, cen-tered on the ordination of women. Most of the women present, and indeed Margaret her-self, were ordained deacons. It was the last thing I wanted to get involved in. Intermingled with that were fairly long dis-sertations on the three resident cats. I drained my coffee cup as I tried to quell the rising panic within me. Relief came when Margaret suggested we go to my room for a first talk. In five minutes my fears evaporated. I knew instinctively that in her I was on to a winner. That night I slept well, waking totally refreshed. I made coffee, and one glance at the Welsh weather put me into warm trousers and a thick sweater. In the still sleeping village I found the small Catholic church. Inside, in a back pew, was a very still figure. I knelt down near the door, ready to escape if this man were not the sort I ought to seek out for company. After some minutes he looked up and said "Welcome." This was Father Joseph (I seemed destined to be mixed up with Josephs and 522 Revie'w for Religious Josephines). In answer to my question he said that so seldom did anyone come for daily Mass that we could arrange it any time suited to the two of us. Father became a true friend to me during my thirty days. He watched over me with such care and was always available for counsel or confession. That first morning he arranged for me to have a key to the church so that I could come and go at will. He knew Margaret and felt I was safe in her hands. The Thirty Days Begin And so the routine for the thirty days began. Margaret sug-gested that for the first three days I just browse over my own favorite passages of Scripture, go for walks, and take on an atmo-sphere of quiet. That first morning I took my Bible and went out. I sat overlooking a sweeping green valley and read slowly through some of my favorites: "Widen the spaces of your tent." (Is 55:2); "Behold the Bridegroom is coming." (Mt 25:7); "May He give you the power., to grow strong . " (Ep 3:16-21). And through it all I wondered just what I was doing, alone in Wales, on the threshold of this experience. Those first three days went in very gently. Sleep, walks, quiet reading, and three one-hour prayer periods a day. The kettle, tea, and coffee played their part. On the fourth day we started in earnest into the pattern of the retreat. We moved into four one hour periods of prayer a day. Each "day" would begin at 5 p.m. The four "weeks" were to be flexible as regards length. Margaret spent considerable time giving me the background to the Exercises. As she spoke, words from Robert Gleeson's intro-duction to Anthony Mottola's translation of the Exercises came back to me: "Ignatius intended to stay in Manresa for a few days. These days stretched into ten months with results that are still reverberating around the world." Yes, I thought, even to Corwen. Something of Margaret's own love for Ignatius overflowed into me. Here was no mere competent guide, but rather one who was imbued with the spirit of Ignatius. I felt very secure, but real-ized Margaret was no soft touch as she explained the conditions: no reading, other than that prescribed; no music, news, corre-spondence, conversation, and so forth. She spoke of the neces-sity of being utterly faithful to the full one-hour prayer periods, and she warned me off interior conversation which could easily become the little foxes destroying the vineyard. When she had July-Auffust 1993 523 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed finished, my snug feeling of security had drastically slipped, to he replaced by a sense of vulnerable nakedness. Thus stripped I entered the first "week" of the retreat. The First Week (Seven Days) Sin, in its hideousness, was the focus of this first week. Powerful meditations on words previously heard but never fully absorbed came back to influence my prayer. The First Principle and Foundation offered at the beginning of this week presented such a challenge thai it almost unseated me. Could I, in complete sincerity, make such a prayer? Part of my background reading said, "This law which I enjoin on you this day is not beyond your strength" (Dr 30:11-14). These words stood, like a kind mother, beside the demands of the First Principle and Foundation, urging me to compliance. Yet I hesitated. I moved on into the sin of Adam and Eve; the Angels; the Prodigal Son--all meditated on against a background of Philippians 2:1-11, Baruch 1:13-22 and 63, and Ephesians 1:13- 14 and all deepening in me an appreciation of the heinousness of sin. Karl Rahner says (I quote from memory), "I need to see sin, not so much as an offence against God, but rather as a rebuff against Jesus personally," and "I see him wasting there on the cross--for us--and ~eeing him in such plight, I make my deci-sion." It is difficult to take a detached view of sin with words like that running round one's mind. As the first week was coming to a close, the next commit-ment point was drawing near, the Kingdom meditation with its inbuilt self-offering; and yet I had still not made the First Principle and Foundation my own. I felt discouraged. If I could not per-sonalize the sentiments of the First Principle and Foundation, was there any point in going on? I told Margaret of my difficulty. She suggested rewriting it in language I would feel at home with. And that proved to be the answer. It was the stiff, masculine lan-guage that was getting in the way. After rewriting it in my own words, I could accept what Deuteronomy had been trying to tell me. On the seventh evening Margaret said that tomorrow would be a repose day. She explained what this meant: one prayer period this evening, a good night's sleep, then, after morning Mass, out for the day; on my return in the evening, one more prayer period 524 Review for Religious before she came to see me. She gave me a few ideas as to where I could go. I chose Llangollen: it seemed a place where I could continue to be quiet while doing something different. The Kingdom Meditation-- and Some Sort of Disturbance The meditation given me for the eve of the repose day was the Kingdom, so after supper, and with my inner eye on my day out, I settled down to this period of reflective prayer--and it all went wrong. The whole hour tumbled around in a confusion of despon-dency and misery. I saw myself as a hypocrite and a fool and felt sick with disappointment and embar-rassment. I was not being called as Rahner sug-gested; this was all totally beyond me regardless of Deuteronomy; there was nothing here for me. Some of us are destined for mediocrity; I was obviously one such. Illusion would get me nowhere, and get-ting nowhere was costing a lot of money and time. Leaving my room, I went out into the garden. The moon was riding high, swiftly brushing aside the small clouds which, busy about their own affairs, were trotting along in the opposite direc-tion. Shadows flitted about the garden, and some-where nearby an owl hooted. Further away a dog was barking, but it soon trailed off into a lazy yawn--his heart just was not in it. And here, under the canopy of deep sky, my thought slowly came together and clarified; I began to see what was going on. I returned to my room and found my crucifix and holding it firmly commanded, in the name and power of the crucified and resur-rected Christ, everything not of God to depart. I repeated the command twice. The result: "The storm abated and there was a great calm" (Mk 4:39). Without further ado I made my Kingdom offering as given by Ignatius, went to bed, and slept. Some of US are destined for mediocrity; I was obviously one such. The First Repose Day A glorious day of sunshine and Welsh mountains. A ride on the Railway Enthusiasts' railway from Llangollen along the moun-tainside to Deeside Halt; a leisurely walk by the canal where later I sat and ate my sandwiches while watching boys--up to the age ~uly-Aug'ust 1993 525 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed of forty plus--playing with their boats. Full of fresh air and peace, I returned to Corwen on an early evening bus. Each turn in the road presented a different scene to delight the heart, and I found myself silently singing the word of St. Francis's Canticle of the Sun: "All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made., and first for Brother Sun. how beautiful he is! How radiant!., and Brothers Wind and Air. and all the weathers' moods . " It seemed so appropriate. (Something I discovered during these thirty days was that Francis and Ignatius have much in common.) After supper Margaret came, and I told her of the previous night's upset. She said it was to be expected and then referred me to the description of discernment of spirits in the Exercises, where it was all clearly set out. The important thing, she said, was that I had made the Kingdom offering. Much was gained and nothing at all lost. The Second Week (Eleven Days) And so into the second week. I traveled far in that week. Journeying with Jesus through his life in the given meditations, I became aware of another journey I was making, toward a deeper commitment--and yet my previous fear of.fidl commitment reared up again and again. The demand was too clear, too total, too final. There was no space for maneuver. I stalled badly and frequently during that week. Margaret advised me to use the First Principle and Foundation offering and also the Kingdom offering as ways into the given meditations. She also gave me some salutary advice: "Don't try to give today what properly belongs to tomorrow." "The grace for the future is not yet being offered." I remembered similar advice given me in the past. As a young sister I had made a group retreat under a Carmelite friar. In one of his talks he said that many people fail to advance because they quail before what they fear may be asked of them if they say an unreserved yes. They forget that God is totally to be trusted and would never take unfair advantage of a generous yes. A superior, at a later date, took up the same theme with me (it seems I have had this lack-of-trust problem forever!) and said: "The Lord is total courtesy. He doesn't grab. He looks at what you have and asks 'May I take this?' If you refuse, he will not insist--for the time being any-way." Urn--for the time being. 526 Review for Religious The Two Standards and the Three Classes of Men These meditations caused the same problem that the First Principle and Foundation and the Kingdom had caused; as I saw it, all called for total and irrevocable commitment. Again I had to remind myself of what Margaret had said and what the Carmelite friar and my own superior had said when I was just knee high in my religious life. I spent long hours beg-ging the grace of trust. I tried to reset my focus and not waste precious time looking at abstract problems and missing the grace of reality. I turned to St. Francis at this stage and found his presence a great comfort. On the twentieth day, after lots of struggle but also tremendous peaks of joy and achievement, Margaret suggested I spend one day drawing the experience of the entire two weeks together and then summarize it in a truth-ful prayer of offering. As I set about doing this, I found it amaz-ing how I could look back along the road I had traveled and see so clearly the efforts, frustrations, joys, hopes, gains, losses, and desires and the loneliness and--running in and out of it all like a flame in dry grass--the'fear. And yet ~omehow it all came together with a marvelous coherence: everything fitted. I could see, with a rare clarity, that God was with me. I had moved. I had definitely moved. I had moved light years from where I had been two weeks previously. For better or for worse, I had moved. The agonizing lack of trust, the fears, the anxieties were all part of this pattern of walking. The Lord had supplied where I had been weak. Together we had made it through these two weeks. He had blessed me beyond all imagining and had accepted my desire as though it were something of substance. I was content. On the twenty-second day, a repose day, I went to Ruthin and presume I had a relaxed day, but I have no memory of it. Without the brief note in my journal saying I had been there, I would not know I had. What that says about me I have no idea. I could see, with a rare clarity, that God was with me. I had moved. The Third Week (Five Days) Margaret moved me into the last earthly days of Jesus. Over the next days, spread over five one-hour meditation periods, which j~¢O-dugust1993 527 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed included a midnight hour, I contemplated the Lord at the Last Supper, Gethsemane, and Calvary and right through to the postresurrecfion period. Having visited the Holy Land many times while living in the Middle East, I found it very easy to situate these meditations, but somehow the depths eluded me. On the twenty-fourth day Margaret suggested that I spend four of my five one-hour prayer periods reading through the four different accounts of the Passion. Anyone who has done this in one day will know it does not come easy. Physically it is draining to read something of that nature and length with concentration. By the evening it had quite taken me over, and after supper I went for a long walk, but somehow I could not shake off (was I even meant to?) the felt heaviness of trudging the Calvary road four times. Another Disturbance It is not easy to stay with someone in agony while knowing you are part responsible. During the night I woke in the grip of a strange tension, feel-ing physically cold and frightened. I have never been especially brave, but I am not given to irrational fear, and this sense of men-ace was wholly irrational; yet it made me feel that, if I did not give up this retreat, it would break me. For several minutes I did nothing beyond switching on the light and allowing the fear to swamp me. Fear of what? I could put no name to it. Then I remembered Margaret's words, based on those of Ignatius: "It is common for the evil spirit to cause sad-ness, fear, discouragement, and acute anxiety and to place all sorts of obstacles in the way of right reason. The good spirit gives courage, strength, inspiration, light, and peace so that right reason will prevail. Learn to distin-guish." Once again I reached for my crucifix and holy water and followed my previous routine. All returned to normal, but it took some time. The twenty-sixth day I spent quietly looking back over the entire Passion. It proved to be a very hard day. It is not easy to stay with someone in agony while knowing you are part responsible. On the twenty-seventh day, another repose day, I went to Lake Bala. It was a beautiful day, but too hot. Tourists and pic-nickers were all over the place--not helpful. I found the Catholic 528 Review for Religious church, a small converted stable. It was very peaceful, and I stayed quietly there for some time before boarding the bus for the ride home through heart-lifting scenery. The Fourth Week--Coming to the End I was now coming to the end of this whole experience, and Margaret suggested moving back from five to four periods of prayer, 6mitring the night one. She also brought me a tape recorder and some classical-music tapes. Winning some grand prize could not have brought me more joy. I was ecstatic. On the twenty-eighth day I meditated on John 20:11-18, Mary Magdalen's encounter with Jesus in the garden, with Isaiah 30:18- 26 and 35:1-10 as background. I also used Luke 24:13-35, the Emmaus story, with Psalm 62 as background. I became quite filled with the quiet. Jesus' sufferings were over. His pain was finished. I was able to walk calmly in the garden with Mary Magdalen--you see, I knew the answer to her question. The Emmaus road also was peaceful. Again I had the advantage: I knew who he was. All this was leading me quite naturally into the Contemplation to Attain Divine Love. From the twenty-ninth day onward I used this con-templation for one period each day, the other three periods cov-ering postresurrection Scripture. I continued my daily walks in the serene countryside, which for me became Galilee, where Jesus said he wo~ld meet his friends again and where I myself have walked many times. A Final Disturbance One meditation, on the thirtieth day, was given over to the events that include Jesus cooking breakfast for his hungry disci-ples. As I moved further into the scene, it all changed and became blasphemous; but I did not recognize it as such. My discerning powers were, it seemed, in suspension. During Mass the follow-ing morning I became aware that something had been very wrong with that meditation. I looked back at it and saw immediately the gross irreverence of the scenes which had been presented to my view. I was aghast and marveled that I had not realized at the time what was going on. I went hotfoot to Father Joseph after Mass and poured out my sorry story. He took it all very calmly--as con-fessors are apt to do--and explained how the devil will use every July-August 1993 529 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed possible means to stop a person pursuing a course that has as its aim a closer union with God. Margaret, of course, said the same thing. The experience left me with a profound disgust of the one who works such evil things. The Final Days The thirty-first and final day arrived. I drew together the ele-ments of the four key meditations--the Kingdom, the Two Standards, the Three Classes of Men, the Three Modes of Humility. I then moved them into a prayer of offering that I tried to make utterly truthful and realistic for me. Later that day I had a final few words with Father Joseph and returned the keys of the church. Back at the house I had a last talk with Margaret and my retreat was over. The following day I left Corwen and--via Wrexham, Chester, Crewe, Euston, and Plaistow, changing train or bus at each one--I arrived home in London. Eighteen Months Later Days have built on days, and a year and a half has passed since my long retreat. By now it should have gone the way of all the others. It has not done so. Father Joseph's words during our final talk, "You will never be the same again, this experience has changed you," have stayed with me; I know them to be true. That retreat has changed many things. It has set sin in its right context, one which makes scant distinction between small and big offenses. It has cleared away any number of secondary purposes and under-lined the one purpose for which I was born. It has filled my store-rooms with kindling, that I may not perish when my winter fires burn low. It has increased my recovery rate, so that sin and repen-tance are almost simultaneous. It has brought a staying power I never thought to possess; a strength to stay with prayer even when, apparently, there is nothing in it to stay for. It has brought an acceptance that I am as I am and, as far as performance goes, the future will not be much different; progress will still be wob-bly, with backward steps, with fears and sin. But this acceptance of my situation has brought a new dependence; I know I will make it through to the end if I cling like a limpet to Christ. There is, quite simply, no other way. 530 ' Re~ie~ for Religious The Human Face of God But overriding and underpinning all this is the greatest change of all. I am aware that, through all the contemplations of that month, even those during which I was distracted, irritated, fidgety, or just plain bored, God was working. He was working as one whose work it is to take an old manuscript, mosaic, or fresco and restore it to its original beauty; he was etching and bringing into relief, for me personally, the lines of his own human face. I can no longer think of God without, at the same time, seeing Christ; I see him, in some small measure, as Francis of Assisi saw him in great, in the people, however seemingly insignificant, and in the events, however trivial, that form th~ fabric of my everyday life. This new vision is the greatest grace to accompany me into these, the afterdays. The word "Wales" will never again mean for me just a geo-graphical place, hut rather will set a pause for remembering: remembering that revelation did not end with the Apocalypse; remembering how God revealed his face to me in Wales; remem-bering how something of beauty was planted within me and has, in spite of me, continued to grow. My life has become perma-nently divided into "before Wales" and "after Wales." And it all started way back in Jordan, where I "hungered for liberation" and knew myself "intent on hearing an utterance of God never given before" (in the words of McGann and Rahner) and felt strongly impelled, Franciscan and all that I am, to take up the invitation to an Ignatian experience. That, and so much more, is what my long retreat was all about. 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 distri-bution, advertising, or institutional promotion or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will be consid-ered only on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. July-August 1993 531 TAD DUNNE What Trouble Is spiritual life Most of us, at some lull in the cacophony of life, think to ourselves, "I really should be a person who . " And we take some stand on avoiding trouble. Of course, trouble wears many hats. There is the regular trouble of having to learn through our mistakes. There is our unwitting igno-rance of the times when our behavior makes others roll their eyes. Or maybe the trouble is our own doing, like the lies we lay on others and the follow-up work we lay on ourselves just to keep our stories straight. Or like the legacy of emotional trouble callous parents bequeath to their children that continues long after they have died and the children have grown up. The stand we take to avoid trouble is usually rather elemental. We hope a simple strategy can meet every kind of trouble coming our way. Not that we succeed. Indeed, the reason we do not succeed may well be that the way we defined our troubles was a big mistake. This is why, for many of us, our images of God are shaped less by our experience of divine help or by the Scriptures and more by how we conceptualized our getting into trouble in the first place. When people describe their spiritual journeys to me, they usually divide the chapters according to this or that difficulty from which God delivered them, but the difficulties were defined very often by simple earthly sym-bols, not by any measures drawn from revelation. Tad Dunne writes on contemporary spirituality. His address is 2923 Woodslee; Royal Oak, Michigan 48073. 532 Review for Religious We get most of the symbols of our troubles from the drama of everyday life--a vacillating boss, a domineering spouse, hard work with no reward, bad weather, and so on. But where people draw the line on what is unacceptable to them will vary nation to nation, old to young, woman to man, race to race. So, before we assume that our view of trouble is totally objective, we need to look instead at the experiences of trouble common to everyone. Then we can look at what the gospel says about trouble and make comparisons about what we have observed. Our universally common experiences of trouble lie not in the dramatic but in the practical patterns in our experiences--expe-riences like carrying burdens, feeling slowed down, running into roadblocks, taking chances and missing, setting schedules and failing to meet them, planting seeds that produce puny fruit, arranging our surroundings carefully and finding that the sur-roundings have trapped us. Everyone, in any culture, grows up with these practical troubles and looks for ways to overcome them. The Example of Physics For the sake of talking about these analogs of our miseries, it will help to classify them. One simple way follows the example of physics. In physics we expect events to occur either in a natural relationship to other events or just coincidentally. While physicists talk about the naturally related events by using terms like elec-tromagnetism, gravity, or inertia, children simply notice that when A happens, then B usually happens. Behind the merely coinci-dental events lie no laws at all, so physicists talk about probabil-ities and norms while ordinary people talk about taking chances and seizing once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. Each of these two kinds of expectations, of regularity and of chance, gets frustrated in its own way. Regularity is frustrated when a routine is broken or a law is not followed. Chance is frus-trated when overcontrol eliminates the lucky chance or when exceptions to the rule are somehow ruled out of court. But each kind excludes the other, and so, pressured as we ar.e by this intrin-sic antinomy to Choose only one as our fundamental code for translating experience into meaning, some of us worship a God of Law and others a God of Freedom. The Broken Routine. The God of Law is incarnated in our ear- 3~uly-August 1993 533 Dunne ¯ What Trouble Is God brings salvation by giving laws to maintain order and by raising up saints to serve as our examples. liest teacher of regularity: the sun. It gives us as children a sym-bol of what it means to be faithful, kindly, and dependable. We learn at an early age what our race took eons to formulate in a principle: that bodies in motion keep going and bodies at rest stay where they are. If only people could be that orderly! So we experience the trouble of broken routine. Things are going smoothly and something interrupts. Interruptions and contradictions are our enemies, though we can never fully avoid them. Better calm down and do what God expects and all shall be well. Pity those who live in chaos, who seem never to settle down, who spend their lives searching for they know not what. They could well learn a lesson from nature that life lies in regu-larity and dependability. This elemental experience of day alter-nating with night has a remarkable influence on the loftiest and most religious levels of our psyches. We imagine the kingdom of God as a smooth meshing of generation upon generation of peo-ple, as if the oiling of divine grace was meant to eliminate all fric-tion between people. God is an implacable and consistent Trinity, a perfect community, an example which every human family and nation is called to imitate as far as possible. God brings salvation by giving laws to maintain order and by raising up saints to serve as our examples. Life is essentially a struggle of law and order over anarchy and extreme independence. OvercontroL The second kind of trouble is practically the oppo-site of the first. As the first kind loves controls, the second hates them. At some time in our growing up, when we discover that we have taken too many of our parents' controls to heart, we start to wriggle free of them. We take a chance. When governments lay such heavy controls on people that hardly anything is left to chance, we condemn them. The worst kind of control, of course, is self-imposed--when I make more resolutions than I could pos-sibly keep or when I forbid myself to ever try anything daring or maturing. Trouble is anything that impedes probabilities. These elemental experiences tell us that God is a God of free-dom, calling us to a radical trust in all we do. The voice is per- 534 Review for Religious vasive: Let go of trying to control everything and everyone; you are ruining yourself in the process and will never succeed in any case. God will never lay a load on your back without also giving you a strohg back with which to carry it. "Look at the birds of the air . " Human planning is largely a waste of time. The goals of our endeavors so seldom match their outcomes that it is a won-der we keep on setting goals. God will intervene at the oppor-tune moment; divinity cannot be pinned down to laws and predictability. And so on. The Example of Biology Notice how these first two kinds of order and trouble are dis-tinguished by whether or not individual events are either part of some repeating cycle or the result of mere chance. We can also look at sequences of events or stages in something undergoing development. Again, to keep this simple, we can distinguish two fundamental kinds of development, those driven by a single law or principle and those driven by forces only coincidentally related to each other. The single-law kind can be illustrated by seeds. Tulip bulbs develop tulips, not dandelions, and, within quite narrow ranges of development, tulips everywhere look alike. Multiple-principle development can be represented by human relation-ships. People's values differ from each other across the face of the earth far more than tulips do. The reason is that the genetic coding in the fertilized egg that each of us once was does not confine the range of our potential development anywhere near as tightly as the tulip's coding does. Growing up, we continually "recode" ourselves by our choices. By interacting with others we develop in dialectical fashion, making something unrepeatable of both ourselves and our surroundings. If both the genetic (single-law) and the dialectical (multiple-principle) kinds of development are elemental,-then we can expect them to precondition what we mean by trouble and, by exten-sion, what we mean by God's saving grace. Again, the dichotomy between these two kinds of development tends to force a reli-gious choice between a God of Success and what I shall call a God of Exchange. The Weeds among the Wheat. One kind of trouble is caused by bad beginnings. It concerns anyone anxious to make continual July-August 1993 535 Dunne ¯ 14/-bat Trouble Is growth and progress, anyone who worships the God of Success. Long before people study genetics in biology, they experience built-in potentials and patterns of growth everywhere, in flow-ers, birds, and house pets. But some elements interfere with nat-ural fulfillment and choke the natural process of growth. These elements may be people, who themselves have been affected by their own upbringing. The notion here is that people are basi-cally good and that, given rich soil and hearty fertilizer, every person and every project will turn out a success. The worst form of this kind of trouble shows when a person feels predestined to fail because of some original and irreparable personality flaw. If we develop sheerly by genetic laws, then it would follow that God calls us to be creators, to overcome obstacles, and to keep a positive spirit. There is no doubt that the kingdom will come; the inner workings of grace in history guarantee it, sure as an acorn will become an oak. Our job is simply to help it come more quickly. It will be a kingdom of exciting new discoveries, increasing cooperation among all people, and continual improve-ment in people's health and happiness. The Good News is simply the announcement that Jesus loves you and that you have the germ of grace within you. Sin is ignorance, not malice. Evangelization is chiefly education; moral reform will follow auto-matically. In the meantime, we are called to grow in holiness, to grow closer and closer to God like a blossoming flower. Hoarding Energy. This fourth kind of trouble is also about growth, but the pattern of development is determined by a series of events related to each other only by chance. We notice how living things are determined not only by origins or seeds but through a continual exchange with their environments. Here biol-ogy studies how living things give and take within their ,sur-roundings. Flowers give honey to bees while the bees ensure progeny for the flowers. While genetic coding strictly limits any one bee's behavior, the location of beehives and the proliferation of flowers are interdependent. Should a storm wipe out one, the other soon disappears. So nature's contentious personality gives us a symbol of a God of give-and-take, a historical God, an engaged God. Farmers plow their fields and their fields return corn. The better the plowing the better the corn and the better the farmer. The quality of the exchange has a dialectical effect on both sides. 536 Revieva for Religious The same goes for the growth and decay of our friendships. Eventually the friendship is either good for both of us or good for neither one. Trouble comes when things cost more than they return. If a boy exasperates his friends by compulsive chatter, he does not feel energized. He wears everyone out, including himself. Then there is the trouble we cause when we take more from the phys-ical environment than we contribute to it, as is evident in oil spills, acid rains, and fluorocarbon-charged spray cans. Whatever the case, there is trouble eithe

Issue 49.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1990. ; R[ vl~ w ~-OR R~-t ~G~OUS (ISSN 0034-639X) ~,, pubhshed b~-monthly at St Louis Unlver,,~ty by the M~s-soun Prov~nce Educational Institute ol the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office; 3601 Lmdell Blvd. Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United States $15.00 for one year; $28.00 for two years. Other countries: US $20.00 for one year: if airmail. US $35.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address. write: R~vtEw FOR R~-:~.w, ous: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth. MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes tu R~:vw~:w vor Rv:~.~aot~s; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. ~1990 Rv:vt~.:w vor Rl.:Li~;~ot~s. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David J. Hassel, S.J. Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. September/October 1990 Volume 49 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv:\'~:w v'o~ Rv:w.uaot~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. I~mis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Eliza-beth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues and reprints should be urdered from Rr:\'~:w roa Rr:~.~;m~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. IA~uis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion uf each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Suciety for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York. NY 10010. PRISMS. At the May meeting of the Advisory Board for REvIEw FOR RELIGtOUS, the members became engrossed in a discussion of the heritages-- Benedictine, Dominican, Salesian, and many others--that consecrated life fosters and should foster in the Church. Sometimes women and men religious forget their special call to be channels of their own spiritual tra-dition and practice. Religious life, signalized in Vatican II documents as belonging to the charismatic structure of the Church, continues to give birth anew to its members by the overshadowing of the Spirit. The particular spiritual in-sights and practices which establish each religious community become permanent gifts not only to the vowed members but also to the whole Church. The Church's recognition and approval is based on this prem-ise. Religious life plays a critical role in carrying forward the Christian spiritual-life traditions in the Church community. The Church expects in-dividual religious and religious families to give witness to their spiritual traditions. It is no surprise, then, that books and journals dealing with the spiritual life (such as REv=Ew FOR REUCtOUS) are so often the product of people living in this consecrated lifeform. In our times we are being made far more aware of the tradition of the Pauline Body of Christ, with the differing gifts of its members. One of the gifts specially present in religious life is its responsibility to hand on the spiritual-life traditions within the Christian community. Obviously God's gifts are never merely self-enhancing, and so religious life was never meant to be a caste apart or its own separate church. The gift of religious life within the Church only heightens the ways that Christians feel called to live out their following of Jesus in their own day--not only the members with a particular religious calling,.but also friends, cowork-ers, students, parishioners---in a word, all who are touched in some way by members of a religious community. This journal's very title could seem to restrict its reading audience to people following a certain consecrated lifeform recognized in the Church. But, as a matter of fact, from its beginnings almost fifty years ago, REvmw FOR REL~CIOUS has invited diocesan priests, bishops, and lay people to find in its pages the roots of our Christian spiritual heritage which nourish us all. The number of subscribers other than religious was small in the beginning, but has grown steadily, especially with the bur- 641 642 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 geoning of ministries and prayer groups in the Church after Vatican II. Articles in REvmw FOR RELm~OtJS will continue to focus on various Christian heritages which religious life helps keep alive in the Church. We hope thereby to provide for all our readers access to roots as well as to budding developments in the living of the Christ-life. The authors in this issue again are representative of our reading audi-ence. For example, Barbara Dent, well-known for her spiritual writings, continues her own experiential reflections on a prayer tradition deep in the Carmelite religious family. Father Richard Lamoureux, a.a., takes an "American" approach to an age-old Augustinian tradition of prayer. The diocesan priest Father Clyde Bonar uses the experiences of St. Fran-cis of Assisi to suffuse with faith the human experience of shame. Dr. James Magee, professor of gerontology, in his article "Planning an In-tercommunity Skilled Nursing Facility," tries to facilitate the working together of religious groups coming from various religious traditions. Perhaps at this time in history we especially need to grow in our ap-preciation of religious life as the purveyor of the Christian spirituality heritage. If we do grow in this way, the Church worldwide will become all the richer in its own life and mission. David L. Fleming, S.J. Moral Issues in Spiritual Direction Shaun McCarty, S.T. Father Shaun McCarty, S.T., teaches in the Washington Theological Union and is a staff member of the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation. His address is Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. My gracefully aging mother has acquired a certain Wisdom from the ex-perience of her years, yet she still seeks confirmation from her clerical eldest in matters of faith and morals! Vatican II suited her just fine be-cause, she says, "It said a lot of things I always thought!" On my weekly visits, she will often begin with, "Now tell me if I'm to think this way, but . " And then she will go on to comment on some issue she has been thinking about in the quiet of her "digs" in a condomin-ium for the elderly (which she sometimes thinks may be the only heaven she will get to!). On the issue of Church: "I go to church because I like to, not because I have to. But I can't see running in and out all the time. Especially when people need you. What good is it to go to church if it does not help you be a better person outside?" On prayer: "God's not just in church. He is (she is not fully feminist yet!) in my apartment too. And I do not think ! have to say a lot of prayers; God and I just have these talks when I say what is on my mind and he talks to me." On sev-eral occasions she has raised this moral issue: "Now tell me if I am wrong to think this way, but I think a lot of these rules that come from the Church are not God's. Most are man-made. Now I think God gave us heads to think ourselves. Not just run off and ask the priest what is right or wrong or wait for the Pope to tell us what to do or not do. If you ask me, I just think the reason people do that is because they are too damn lazy to think for themselves! Now is it wrong for me to be think-ing this way?" I ask her: "Now, Morn, don't you think the Church has 643 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 anything to say about what is right or wrong?" She answers: "Of course, but I'm choosy about whom I listen to!" I just smile, shake my head and assure her that she will probably escape ecclesiastical censure! Actually, she gives new meaning, life, and hope for the terms spiritual and moral life! 'Moral is one of those words laden for many with negative undertones ~uch as repressive, punishing, puritan, pharisaical, and the like. Spiri-tual often connotes an a_nemic and pious evasion of down,t0-earth~ d~ ~o-day living. Until we encounter both embodi_e_d_and~i0tegr_~t_ed_i_n~--~l ,rpeople like Mom ,hose lives and choices validate t~]~ch~i'~hg0i~nd prayer! rYOften, too, moral life and spiritual life are separated: the former re- .ferring to what is right and wrong; the latter, to what is good and beetler. 19 the ministry of spiritual direction, which aims primarily-at-'spiri~ual ~rowth, moral issues frequently arise and discrepancies become appa~ ~.nt either within the value system of the dii'ectee, between the dire~tee an~ Church teaching, or between the value systems of the d~rector and the~ dtrectee. What follows wall be an attempt to provide a frame.w~o_rk m which spiritual gu~des~can-tleal'w~th~moral-~ssues'and'grapple with such ~liscrepancies. ~I will first explore the meaning and relationships of some key terms ip.cluding moral and spiritual life, conscience and discernment. Then, I will consider the role of Church as teacher and the role of the spiritual director as guide in the formation of conscience, including some specific ~reas in which the director can be helpful. Finally, I will raise some dif-ficulties that can occur in dealing with moral issues in the ministry of s~iritual direction. ~Moral and Spiritual Life I.n the context of this article, spiritual life means graced growth in the~spirit, that is, in that dimension of human existence by which we are ~.open t~___.transcendent_ rove and drawn by the Spirit into intimate union ~.with God and communion with each other through, with, and in Christ. ~lokalli~ refers t0-th-~t ~i~e~ct of life that has to~do with. human C~h~0~ic~-s ~fi~eely~made~and~lowngl6ehav~ors~freely:embraced~that;-:under:grace, en- ~able one to pursue good, avoid evil, and~ herice, grow hurria-~ly. ,~ As moral theologians point out, unfortunately in the past, there tii~S ~.been and continues to be a split between moral and spiritual theology. Respected Redemptorist theologian, Bernard Haring says: Moral theology for the use of confessors and penitents was almost un- Moral Issues / 645 avoidably guided by the knowledge of dominion and control. Since such a theology, written mostly for controllers, could threaten the freedom of believers in the realm of things solicited by grace, it seemed best to leave out or bypass spirituality . ~ This resulted in a dual track for Christians: one for an elite who wanted to strive for maximum ideals in "seeking perfection" and the other for those who were satisfied to meet minimum expectations in "sav-ing their souls." Beatitudes were for the former; commandments for the latter. Not only was there a split between classes of Christians, but indi-vidual conscience also was divided into two compartments: one for moral norms, the other for "works of supererogation" (those above and be-yond the call of duty!). ~e dichotomies_are unfortunate. Moral and spiritual life are warp and w~i'~?oi;~ameTf:~l~i-U.~'~'~]i~fiaor~a~:~on focuses on an~ai-ea key to human, and therefore, spiritual growth--namely, that of choices that define a person more-thah anything else and behaviors that promot~ ~0~ih~. ;there is a universal call to holiness. To love God with all our hearts and to love others as Christ loves us is a normative ideal for every Christian. The choice is not between a "spiritual" life or a "moral" life. Whether intentional or not, every Christian is on a spiritual journey and summoned to be challenged by the beatitudes as well as by the com-mandments. Again, B. Haring: It is detrimental to the very fundamental norms of Christian ethics, but especially to the formation of a distinctively Christian consciousness, if the law of growth and the criteria for a deeper understanding of Chris-tian love are relegated to another discipline . But it should be equally clear that a distinctively Christian formation of conscience does not belong to those who specialize in "knowledge of control"! For it is at the very heart of salvation.2 The bottom line is that love is the highest common denominator of every moral act as well as the source and goal of all spiritual growth. ~Con~_s_cience ~I~n general, as a faculty of moral lif~-,-~ohscience is concerned with .~ ~ . ~.-:~ ~. . - ~ . .~- ,h~urfian cbOic6s of good or ewl. An ~nformed conscience is the final ar-biter of moral choice. It refers to that element in the experience of free-dom that makes one aware of responsibility and accountability for one's decisions and actions. The biblical term for conscience is "heart" in which God's will is written (Rm 2:15). Theologically speaking, it is "self-consciousness passing moral judgment.' ,3 In speaking of the dig- 646 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 nity of moral conscience, the Fathers of Vatican II described conscience as ". the most secret core and sanctuary of a man (sic). There he is alone with God, whose voice echoes in his depths."4 Conscience may be said to operate at three levels: ~(1) Fundamental level: This refers to th~ hiJFria--ff-~apacity freely t6 ~hoose a life-orientation towards God (the Choi~ce); _tp. p~_rsue .good(the Wight) and to avoid evil (the Darkness) with an awareness of respp.n__s_i~ ~ility and accountabilii'~At this level, one may be said to have a ge~n- ~ral sense of value.' A fundamental choice for the Light assumes that to be human is to have basic freedom and to have a radical openness to the mystery of God which, again, defines a person more than anything else. To take this option is to experience metanoia (change of heart) which af-fects the whole person (body, mind, and spirit). It is an invitation to turn over all of one's energies to God, to put one's life at the disposal of God, to be a disciple in loving service of others as Christ did and to live under the guidance of the Spirit in subsequent day-to-day decisions. It is in the light of this fundamental level of conscience that important life-decisions such as marriage, priesthood, and vowed life should be made. (2) Reflection/assessment level (individual choices): This level con-cerns day-to-_day choices of varying degrees of importance requiring a process of moral reasoning related to concrete situations.~It calls for re-flection, discussion, and analysis. I think it is what my mother means I~y "using the head that God gave us." Here one is concerned with spe-cific perception of value. At this level, there is room for difference, dis-agreement, error, blindness, distortion, rationalization, confusion, and cultural blindness. Consequently, it is primarily at this level that a per-son needs assistance from more objective sources including Sacred Scrip-ture, one's faith community, friends, confessor, and spiritual director. It is precisely at this level that conscience needs continually to be formed and informed. For that to happen effectively, a person needs humility so that conscience can "kneel at the altar of truth" to which conscience is always subject. It is at this level that the teaching Church as reposi-tory of the values of a faith-community, has an important but limited role as moral teacher and one distinct from that of spiritual director. More about this later. ~,~.(3)~Action level: This refers.to.the_moral judgment or choice of wh~t one believes to be right that brings with it a moral imperative to act. At C~his lev~e_l, a person exercises responsibility and accountability for actions ~and for the consequences of actions that conscience commands. A sign of responsible moral choice is growth in willing, compassionate concern/ Moral Issues / 647 action as opposed to willful, selfish action/inaction. In other words, genu-ine moral judgments and decisions find their completion and become enfleshed in moral deeds. pis:ernn~en~t i Discernment refers to the prayerful sorting out of interior movements ~expenenCe~d ~n-theprocess of tnakmg judgments and deos~ons to deter-m~ ne'wh~ch are of the Spent consequently resonant w~th the fundamen-taVl level-of c-~fiscie0.~e.-It presupposes a quest Of interior freedom as w~ll ~.ffs-careful attent~0n to the concrete particulars of a situation taking into i~onsideration subjective feelings as well as objective facts. It is possible to speak also of levels of discernment that bear some correlation with the levels of conscience occurring at: (1) the fundamen-tal (or core) level of faith, where a person becomes aware of God-experience in light of which one perceives that way of life where she or he can best express and pursue a fundamental choice of God and the good; (2) the reflection/assessment level of day-to-day choices of vary-ing degrees of significance and permanence made with a sufficient de-gree of interior freedom and in resonance with one's fundamental expe-rience of God; (3) the action level whereby a discerned judgment or de-cision is brought to completion by translating it into a concrete behavior that, if it is truly discerned, will bear the fruits of the Spirit. Relationship of DiScernment and Conscience Discernment is critical in the process of what lawyer-priest, R.P. Stake, calls the "evangelization of conscience" which entails the power of the Gospel to reveal to an individual the fact and the seriousness of one's sins.5 What discernment brings to the evangelization of conscience in:~ cludes: (l) a sharper focus on the subjective and unique factors at work,] for this person in this .situation (especially important at a time of accel-erating moral complexity and waning adequacy of objective moral norms and extrinsic moral authority); (2) a situating of decision-making within ff ~?a biblical tradition of both Old and New Testaments, especially in the letters of John and Paul;~(3) a rooting and contextualizing of the decision-r~ aklng process in a person's prayer and experience of Go~l; (4) a more ihtentional attempt to examine motivations to see from where they are ~commg and to where they are 'l~ading so as to create the conditions for greater interior freedom in making choices;~(-5) a nuancing of choicest-- not just of the good over the bad, the genuinely good over the supposed good, but also choices among goods; ~(6) in contrast to an excessive de- 6411 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 pendence on laws and authority as sources of moral judgment, discern-ment is conducive to ~clearEr focusing of responsibility four,the decision ~. 3. -- a~nd its cons~equ_e_n-ces on_ the pers_on making the de_.c~!s~on; (~7) ~n contrast to an individualistic and isolated process, a situating of the decision~ making process within the context of a person's faith commUfiity; (,8)~ contrast to a more exclusively rational and deductive approach (~s is often the case in the exercise of prudence ), ] serious~consideration of human affectivit~ as an important locus of grace~in human choice. , In testing the spirits oy measunng them against one s tunoamen-tal God-experience, moral judgments are more likely to be integrated with conscience as well as reinforcing of conscience at the level of one's fundamental choice¯ In short, discernment makes for a more prayerful, thorough, personalized, interiorized, and human process of conscience formation¯ Hopefully the discussion thus far makes clear that discernment is not dispensation from moral law, but rather an invaluable help in observing it. Rather than an "occasional exercise," discernment presupposes the cultivation of a "prayerful mode" and commitment to contemplative practice that can clarify one's vision and solidify one's dedication to truth¯ It is interesting to note that moral theologians today are showing a marked interest in a discernment approach to moral choice.6 ~,Role of the Church in Formation of Conscience ~The Church (understood as the e~n~ir'~Z~P~'o~le~f~G~d)~ qt preserves and hands down a faith-community's values, is an impor-tant, but limited agent in the evangelization of conscience¯ The teaching ~'Church is not a substitute for conscience; nor is its proper role one o~ ~Grand Inquisitor"; nor yet is it the ultimate arbiter of morality¯ Con-science is. But the Church is a privileged moral teacher and recognized ~leader that plays a significant role in thg~ilJp_mination of conscience. It d~es not create morality. Rather it helps people to discover God's de-sires for humankind which are written on the "fleshy tablets" of the hu- ~man heart¯ Not only does the Church embrace historically and cross-culturally an experience far wider than that of a single individual or cul-ture, but believers hold that the Church has special guidance from the Holy Spirit. Though the Church cannot be expected to address all the val-ues in every moral situation, it can provide norms against which people can measure their own moral judgment. Such norms protect values. Val-ues may be protected in different ways in different eras and/or cultures. Above all, the Church is eminently equipped to help form mature Chris-tian consciences that will enable people to accept responsibility for "us- Moral Issues / 6t19 ing the heads God gave them" in arriving at sound moral decisions. ~Role of-Sp~tual Director in Formation of Conscience ¯ ,Since:mOraVand~spiritual~life:should not'be d~vided~ the~d~rector ob7- ~o~s.~y ~ concerned w~th the moral choices of the directee. In the pro-cess of disce~ment, choices should be consonant with a fundamental choice of the Light and with the person's value system. Though neithe~ ~a represeatative 6fthe-teaching Church as such nor a moral judge of oth- .ers -Consc~ence~ ~n the role of spiritual dire&or, nevertheless ihe-dir~' t~r dbe~ have a responsibility to assist in the ongoing evangelization of conscience by way of enabling individuals to find their own way.- The director also needs to pay attention to his or her own blocks, biases, and unfreedoms that can arise from conflicts between the director's value sys-tem and that of the directee. The director's moral code is not normative ,for the directee. ~ spiritual director acts best as moral guide by being a witness to ~,(trut~hd pers0ndleXample Of integrity~- In addition, the director can help form consciences by appropriate interventions, pat~'e nt wa~t~ng," " compas-sionate understanding, and by maintaining a non-judgmental attitude, -~hde at the same t~me offering honest challenge. The most helpful in-tervention is attentive listening. All spiritual growth, including the evangelization of conscience, happens incrementally. This calls for pa-tience and attentiveness to the readiness of the directee in a~iving at her or his own judgments. It should be noted that self-denigration is one of the most basic moral issues with which many in direction need to deal~ Real or supposed moral lapse especially can deepen it, and this calls for compassionate understanding. Yet, good people are prone to subtle ways of rationalizing and, at times, need honest challenge. It is one thing to experience ambiguity in moral issues; it is another to refuse to wrestle with it] It is comfo~ing to remember that when difficulties arise, the same Holy Spirit who illumines discerning hea~s is also leading persons to moral integrity~ What specifically can a spiritual guide do to enable the formation of conscience? At the fundamental level of conscience, it can be assumed that the person coming for direction has made a fundamental choice of God and the pursuit of good. It would be important in making discerned moral choices that persons continue to refer back to the deepest level of their God-experience. In reference to a major life-decision affecting a per-son's deepest commitments (for example, to enter or to leave marriage, priesthood, vowed life), a director might ask: Has the directee spent shf-ficient time in serious prayer? Made a careful examen of motives? Asked 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 others for feedback? It is at the reflection/assessment level of conscience that most guid-ance is sought. :S~6'~ " a "ec o be ~i~fulz ~ (1 ) In assessing moral maturity: What is the quality of the moral rea-soning process of the directee in reference to this choice? Does the per-son have a sufficiently informed conscience? Where are the blind spots? To what extent is the directee open to outside input? Is she or he making efforts to inform conscience by some reference to moral norms? (for ex-ample, Scripture, norms of his or her faith community?) Has the directee already made up his or her mind and now is unwilling to be "confused with the facts"? Does the directee rely on authority and law for some directives she or he likes, but on a subjective process of "discernment" for others she or he does not? Who will be affected and how by this moral choice? (2) In clarifying values: What values seem important to the directee (as they become visible in choices acted upon as well as spoken of!) and in what priority are they held? Does the person have sufficient clarity con-cerning these priorities? What values does the directee perceive in refer-ence to the specific moral issue with which she or he is now struggling? Is there any struggle? In "grey" areas is the directee willing to strug-gle? Has the director grappled with the same issue and know where she or he stands at present? Is the director clear about his or her own value system? What unfreedoms in the director might significantly hinder fa-cilitating the directee's discernment? (3) In establishing a prayerful mode: Is the directee bringing the is-sue to prayer/discernment: sufficiently in touch with her or his experi-ence of God? seeking inner freedom? gathering sufficient data? attentive to affective responses as options are explored and data gathered? In re-flecting on and in assessing options, does the directee feel any incongru-ence or resistance within towards one or the other option? In deciding on the action level of conscience: Does the directee trans-late moral judgments into deeds? Is she or he open to accountability? Will-ing to take responsibility for his or her actions? What are the conse-quences of the directee's moral decision for others? For self? ~Difficulties Facing Directors in Dealing with Conscience ,Since consciences differ as people do, it .is tO be expe~.cot_eod_~that diffi- ~'ulties can arise indealing with moral issues. These include: ~(1) Difference in moral conviction: When there is a difference of moral conviction on an issue with a directee (for example, divorce, Moral Issues / 651 greed, tax fraud, contraception, sexual activity, and so forth), what is the moral responsibility of the spiritual director? Although a guide in the process of moral choice rather than a teacher of morality, a spiritual di-rector must make a judgment as to whether she or he feels so strongly about an issue as to be unable to help the person deal with it. The direc-tor might pose the question: Will my own strong conviction constitute a major interference in the direction process? What would be appropri-ate to share with the directees at this time concerning my difference of conviction? (For example, a director might be absolutely unwilling to help a person "discern" an abortion.) ~(2) Inadequate social moral consciousness of the directee: What can a director do to help a person broaden the horizons of a conscience lack-ing in social consciousness or with little sense of social sin? On the one hand, the director needs to respect the value system of the directee and to respect readiness for change. On the other hand, the working alliance between the two should also have provided for appropriate challenge as a help to growth. If social consciousness seems to need broadening, a director might: (a) suggest readings to provoke thought; (b) be attentive to possible points of entry for discussion arising from life experience re-ported by a directee that can be occasions of broadening social aware-ness-- for example, a chance brush with a beggar or a personal experi-ence of discrimination; (c) suggest firsthand exposure to situations of so-cial concern--for example, volunteering time at a shelter for the home-less; (d) at times of periodic assessment (for which a good working alli-ance will also make provision), an honest and direct, yet gentle challenge may be in order. ~)(3) Distress after moral lapse: Without unduly mitigating a healthy sense of guilt that helps a person to recognize culpability and move to repentance, a compassionate director can help minimize the debilitating preoccupation that often accompanies guilt. If a person is overly dis-traught over a moral lapse, a director can help by getting the directee to contextualize it, that is, to see it in relationship to his other fundamental option and to the rest of his or her moral life. Does it reverse the funda-mental optioh? Erode it? Not substantially affect it? In addition to sin, where has grace been experienced? How might the experience of moral lapse and its aftermath (for example, a lessening of spiritual pride) been an occasion of grace? Conclusion In dealing with moral issues in spiritual direction, we have explored the meaning and relationship of moral and spiritual life and seen that the 652 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 two should not be divided. Moral life has as one of its concerns a key aspect of spiritual life--namely, decision-making and its relationship to character formation. Discernment is not an alternative to, but an enrich-ment of moral decision-making. Both Church as moral teacher and spiri-tual director as moral guide play significant, but different and limited roles in the formation of conscience--the final arbiter of moral judgment which, in turn, must always remain open to ongoing formation. Finally, we considered some ways for a spiritual director to deal with difficulties that arise in dealing with moral issues. Hvopefully, both Church and spiritual director will provide teachi~g~ find guidance that will enable folks, as-Mom says, "to use the heads God !~ga,~ethem to think for themselves!" That might give both the terms moral and spiritual life better press! You know, as I think of it, my mother was and continues to be my first (and probably my best!) profes-sor of moral and spiritual theology! Exercise Can you think of a situation in which your moral judgment differed from that of a directee? One in which the directee's was in conflict with Church teaching? What did you judge as your own moral responsibility towards the di-rectee? How did this affect your ability to discern as spiritual director? How did you try to discern what you should share with the directee? What aided your discernment? NOTES ~ See B. Haring, Free and Faithful in Christ, Vol. I (New York: Seabury, 1978), pp. 2-3. 2 Ibid, p. 253. 3 K. Rahner & H. Vorgrimler, Theological Dictionary (Herder & Herder, 1968), p. 95. 4 "Gaudium et spes," (n. 16) The Documents of Vatican II, W.M. Abbott, ed. (New York: Guild Press), p. 213. 5 R.P. Stake, "Grounding the 'Priest-Penitent Privilege' in American Law," Con-fidentiality in the United States (Washington, D.C.: CLSA, 1988), p. 151. 6 For example, see Tracing the Spirit, J.E. Hug, ed. (New York: Paul ist, 1983), pp. 379ff. Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? Timothy Brown, S.J. and Harriet A. Learson Father Timothy Brown, S.J., is assistant professor of law in the Sellinger School of Business and Management, Loyola College in Baltimore, Maryland. Harriet Lear-son, M.B.A., M.A., is a senior management consultant, Right Associates, in Phila-delphia, Pennsylvania, and is a practicing spiritual director. Correspondence may be addressed to Loyola College; 4501 North Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210- 2699. In today's service-oriented society, one can hardly avoid the media's al-most daily reports about the issue of malpractice. Doctors, lawyers, psy-chologists, psychiatrists, and human service professionals are becoming increasingly liable and vulnerable to public scrutiny regarding their prac-tices, philosophies, and ethics. In an editorial in the Jesuit publication Human Development Father James Gill, S.J., a Jesuit psychiatrist, raised the question of licensing spiritual directors. He comments: Haven't we reached a point in the Church's history when a group of well-trained and experienced spiritual directors can come together and deter-mine what type and amount of preparation would entitle a candidate to be licensed as a spiritual director? For the self-confidence of the direc-tors, no less than the well-being of their directees, a board of examiners and a certifying process comparable to those maintained by clinical psy-chologists, nurses, and physicians should be created. These profession-als have, in conscience, set high standards for their performance for the sake of their clients. We who are given access to the deepest recesses of souls should hardly be less conscientious. I There has been an outpouring of lawsuits against Churches and clergy as a result of alleged malpractice in recent years. The term that 653 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 has been coined is clergy malpractice which covers a wide variety of torts and crimes including child abuse, paternity suits, and intentional inflic-tion of emotional distress. The constitutional questions, under both state and federal Constitutions, oftentimes deny a cause of action because of the First Amendment issue of separation of Church and State. A number of cases have come to the attention of the media in the area of clergy mal-practice. One of the most noteworthy comes from California, Nally vs. Grace Community Church.2 In this case, parents whose son committed suicide brought an action against a church and church-related counselors, alleging negligent coun-seling and outrageous conduct which ultimately led to the death of their son.3 I. Constitutional Issues in Nally Vs. Grace Community Church Kenneth Nally committed suicide after having become part of a re-ligious organization that his parents alleged suggested to his son that, if you kill yourself, you will go to heaven. His parents brought suit against the Grace Community Church of the Valley, a fundamentalist sect, lo-cated in Southern California. The parents sued the church and four pas-tors for malpractice, negligence, and outrageous conduct. They con-tended that the church's evangelical fundamentalist teachings "in-culcated in their son the belief that he had betrayed Christ's love and trust, and otherwise exacerbated Ken's preexisting feelings of guilt, anxi-ety, and deep depression with the knowledge that these acts would in~ crease the tendencies of Ken to attempt to take his own life."4 The church countered that the young man had been examined by five physi-cians and a psychiatrist after an earlier suicide attempt and that the coun-selors had arranged or encouraged many of these visits. A trial judge dis-missed the case after the close of the plaintiff's case, 5 and the case was appealed. The appellate court reversed the trial court's nonsuit of the negli-gence and outrageous conduct allegations against the Grace Community Church and several of its pastoral counselors. They held that the Church's counselors negligently failed to refer this suicidal youth to those authorized and best suited to prevent his death.6 Associate Justice Johnson writing for the majority began the opinion by clearing up the confusion regarding the issue of clergy malpractice: The court., does not view the causes of action discussed in our opin-ion to involve 'clergy malpractice.' Instead, we see them more accu-rately characterized as 'negligent failure to prevent suicide,' and 'inten- Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? tional or reckless infliction of emotional injury causing suicide'- which negligence and intentional or reckless acts happens to have been committed by church-affiliated counselors. In our view this case has lit-tle or nothing to say about the liability of clergymen for the negligent performance of their ordinary ministerial duties or even their counsel-ing duties except when they enter into a counseling relationship with sui-cidal individuals.7 The church appealed the ruling by the California Court of Appeals for the Second District. After eight years of litigation after the suicide of Kenneth Nally, the Supreme Court of California in a 5-2 opinion held that the "legal duty of care" imposed by the State on licensed praction-ers did not apply to the clergy.8 Chief Justice Lucas writes: "Neither the legislature nor the courts have ever imposed a legal ob-ligation on persons to take affirmative steps to prevent the suicide of one who is not under the care of a physician in a hospital. Imposing such a duty on nontherapist counselors could have a deleterious effect on coun-seling in general and deter those most in need of help from seeking treat-ment out of fear that the private disclosures could subject them to invol-untary commitment to psychiatric facilities."9 The California court notes the California legislature's recognition that "access to the clergy for coun-seling should be free from state imposed counseling standards." to Two other Justices agreed that the case should be dismissed but said the defendants did have a legal duty of care but that the evidence showed the pastors never breached it or contributed to the man's death. The Court unanimously dismissed the case. II. Spiritual DirectionmA Definition Whether spiritual directors should be licensed to prevent the kind of tragedy described in the Nally case is a question that is presently being debated by many in the field. Spiritual direction has a very broad con-notation. It can be defined as an interpersonal situation in which one per-son assists another person to growth in the spirit, in the life of faith (prayer), hope (difficulties), sufferings (trials), and love (the person's life in the Christian community). 1~ Spiritual direction may better be defined by what it is not, rather than by what it is. Spiritual direction is not pri-marily information even though it may be the occasion for sharing ideas. It is not primarily therapeutic even though there are times when issues of mental and psychological need get discussed. It is not seen as primar-ily advisory although in many situations good advice is imparted. Spiri-tual direction is viewed as primarily the opportunity to get clarification and discernment. How this gets accomplished is by discussing the prayer 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 life and spiritual life of the directee so as to shed some light on what is happening in the life of faith, hope, and love in relation to God. In spiritual direction, the directee tries to describe to a spiritual di-rector his or her prayer experiences. The subject matter of that discus-sion constitutes such areas as when prayer happens, how often, how, what actually happens in the prayer period, other daily life issues such as anxiety over family, job, day-to-day depressions, joys, consolations and desolations, issues of tolerance, patience, and possible manipulation of others. The director's role is to help the person to objectify those per-sonal experiences, to assist by asking appropriate questions in order to gain some clarity on the directee's personal issues. The spiritual direc-tor is interested in helping the directee in the life of prayer so that the relationship with God and the men and women with whom they live and work can become strengthened and enhanced. III. Basic Skills Required of a Spiritual Director At the Jesuit Spiritual Center in Wernersville, Pennsylvania a com-petency profile was developed in an effort at concretizing and articulat-ing the requisite personal qualities, knowledge, skills, and graces to do spiritual direction. Here are some of the standards that were established in that study: 1. Personal Characteristics/Qualities A. Living a vital spiritual life B. Being a recipient oneself of spiritual direction C. Docility to the Spirit D. Kindness E. Gentleness F. Psychological Maturity G. Initiative H. Having a broadly lived human experience J. Stability K. Respect for confidentiality L. Sociability M. Detachment N. Productivity 2. Knowledge A. Lived experience in the Christian tradition B. Christian Doctrine/tradition C. Sacred Scripture D. Christian mystical/ascetical traditions E. The Spiritual Exercises Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 657 F. Ecclesiology G. Grace H. Christology J. Vatican II K. Justice L. A psychological matrix (theory & language) M. Jungian Psychology 3. Skills/Abilities A. Intrapersonal (affective awareness) B. Discernment C. Listening D. Clarifying E. Diagnosing F. Prescribing G. Judgment H. Common sense J. Interpersonal Skills K. One-on-one L. Group M. Trustworthiness 4. Graces A. Spiritual freedom B. An ongoing call to this work by others C. Called by grace to this work D. Seeing the Gospel happening~2 IV. Ministerial Malpractice Malpractice refers to professional misconduct or the failure of one rendering services in the practice of a profession to exercise the degree of skill and learning normally applied by members of that profession in similar circumstances.~3 The traditional elements necessary to state a cause of action in negligence have beenstated by Prosser as: 1) a duty, or obligation, recognized by the law, requir-ing the actor to conform to a certain standard of conduct for the protection of others against unreasonable risks; 2) a failure on his part to conform to the standard re-quired; 3) a reasonably close causal connection between the con-duct and the resulting injury; and 4) actual loss or damages resulting to the interests of an-other. 14 Review for Religious, September-October 1990 The problem that the courts would face in trying to construe a duty, and then defining that duty in the area of spiritual direction, is in attempt-ing to define what falls within the parameters of the spiritual as opposed to psychological counseling. How would a court make some kind of de-termination as to whether a directee's problem is, in fact, a spiritual or psychological one. The reason that distinction is so necessary is to safe-guard and protect members of the clergy involved in spiritual direction. Father John English, S.J. has written that the distinction between spiri: tual and psychological counseling is oftentimes a fine one. He comments that "although it may be helpful for the director to distinguish between psychological and spiritual counseling, these realities are not distinct within the person being counseled. And the concern is always with the total person." ~5 There are occasions when a director can see that the real need in direction is no longer to facilitate growth in relationship with God but instead to move the person into a psychological counseling setting so that other issues in the directee's life can better be addressed. What are some of the occasions when someone should be referred to therapy? One spiritual director, Mercy Sister Maureen Conroy, R.S.M. regards three situations as clearly signals to refer. They are: 1) when a person experiences serious psychological and emotional disorders, including depression, severe neuro-sis, suicidal tendencies, psychosis; 2) when more time needs to be spent exploring a present life issue, such as a marital problem; and 3) when specific therapeutic skills are needed to explore the conscious and unconscious effects of past life expe-riences, such as sexual abuse or emotional neglect in child-hood. 16 The Supreme Court of California in the Nally case addressed the is-sue of referral of seriously ill directees. Regarding the duty as to "whether the court should impose a duty on defendant and other 'nonth-erapist counselors' (that is, persons other than licensed psychotherapists who counsel others concerning their emotional and spiritual problems) to refer to licensed mental health professionals once suicide becomes a foreseeable risk," the court said no.~7 In determining the existence of a duty of care in any given case, a number of factors were considered, including: "the foreseeability of harm to the injured party, the degree of certainty that he suffered injury, the closeness of the connection be-tween defendants' conduct and the injury suffered, the moral blame at-tached to (defendants), the policy of preventing future harm, the extent Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 659 of the burden to the defendants and consequences to the community of imposing a duty to exercise care with resulting liability for breach, and the availability, cost, and prevalence of insurance for the risk in-volved. ' ' 18 The court cautiously noted the inappropriateness of imposing a duty to refer in areas involving spiritual counseling because of the very na-ture of the relationship. So many times those relationships are informal, spur of the moment, and gratuitous. The foreseeability of harm may not always be recognized in a one hour session with a disturbed directee. The court concluded by saying that "imposing a duty on defendants or other nontherapist counselors to. insure their counselees [are also] under the care of psychotherapists, psychiatric facilities, or others authorized and equipped to forestall imminent suicide could have a deleterious ef-fect on counseling in general." 19 The California legislature has exempted the clergy from any kind of licensing requirement applicable to "mar-riage, family, child and domestic counselors, and from the operation of statutes regulating psychologists.' ,20 The court took note that the reason why the legislature has exempted clergy from licensing is in order to ex-plicitly "recognize that access to the clergy for counseling should be free from state imposed counseling standards, and that the secular state is not equipped to ascertain the competence of counseling when performed by those affiliated with religious organizations.''2~ V. The Difficulty of Devising Workable Standards For Determining Negligence Along with the difficulty the court recognized with arriving at some kind of workable standard of competency to be established in religious counseling situations, the Nally court also noted the added problem of identifying to whom the duty of duc care should be applied. It would be an immense task to define what exactly constitutes a spiritual direction relationship. Who qualifies as aspiritual director (only the ordained? mem-bers of religious orders?) as well as trying to resolve the issue of relig-ious diversity demonstrates difficulty in determining in what context the interaction is framed. There are all kinds of First Amendment issues in-volved as well. The court expressed the dilemma writing: "Because of the differing theological views espoused by the myriad of religions in our state, and practiced by Church members, it would certainly be impracti-cal and quite possibly unconstitutional to impose a duty of care on pas-toral counselors. Such a duty would necessarily be intertwined with the religious philosophy of the particular denomination or ecclesiastical teach-ings of the religious entity.' ,22 66{I / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 Establishing some kind of criteria of competency that a court could apply would always involve a state intrusion into the realm of religious doctrine and practice. The state would be put in the position of asking whether a particular religious practice was indeed being employed, a par-ticular teachin~g applied correctly, a particular style of spirituality or dis-cernment used properly. All these determinations entail a great deal of state entanglement in sectarian matters. In 1971 the Supreme Court in Lemon vs. Kurtzman,23 adopted a three prong test to decide whether a government activity violates the Estab-lishment Clause of the First Amendment. The test requires that: 1) The purpose of the action be clearly secular; 2) The primary effect of the action must neither advance nor inhibit religion; and 3) the activity may not result in excessive government en-tanglement with the religion.2a Any kind of judicial enforcement of some kind of standard of com-petency for spiritual directors would fail the Lemon vs. Kurtzman test on all three points. The effect of the government overseeing the practices of spiritual directors would more than likely inhibit some of the freedom required to explore, discern, and clarify issues in spiritual direction. The potential for excessive church-state entanglement in the area of enforce-ment of guidelines for direction is limitless. Any standard of care applied in determining qualified licensed prac-tioners in the field of spiritual direction would involve some sort of check as to whether the practice was in step with the religious criteria set forth in the religious teachings of the sect. At best it could be argued that some minimum standard of.training and competence to protect the public from religious fanatics, charlatans, or frauds might be established, but any full-fledged licensing would stifle First Amendment freedom and inhibit re-ligious practice. VI. Difficulties in Establishing a Standard of Care for Spiritual Di-rectors Looking at the Competency Profile of the Jesuit Spiritual Center, one wonders how a court would be able to determine what constitutes com-petency when the spiritual qualification requirements of directors include such characteristics as: 1) Living a vital spiritual life--a life of charity; 2) Habitual experience of individual prayer; 3) A life of Charity .toward all peop!e coupled with an awareness of the w~der needs of the human family; Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 661 4) An evermore intense interior experience; 5) An ever-growing delicacy of conscience; 6) Kindness--having and showing a benevolent readi-ness to intend the good of others; 7) Giftedness--honoring another's perceptions, judg-ments, and person; a non-defensiveness of spirit, pa-tience, and sympathy; 8) Psychological maturity--free from crippling emo-tional, mental, or volitional habits of a neurotic nature; 9) Sociability--the ability to interact with a variety of per-sonalities; 10) Knowledge--lived experience in the Christian tradi-tion; 1 1) Skills and abilities--interpersonal awareness of one's interior mental and emotional states; 12) Discernment--the experiential knowledge of self in the congruence of the object of choice with one's funda-mental religious orientation; 13) Judgment--the ability to form wise opinions, esti-mates, and conclusions from circumstances presented to the director; 14) Graces-spiritual freedom --without undue influence of disordered affections and attachments; 15) An inner suppleness of character.25 Looking over this list of characteristics needed to be a competent spiri-tual director one could see the difficulty that a court of law would have in trying to render a determination of standards which would meet licens-ing requirements. Courts are not in any position to evaluate the content of the prescribed qualifications. Aside from the obvious First Amend-ment problems found in making judgments on what grace, kindness, char-ity, and other criteria operative within the practice of spiritual direction are, licensing could discourage and diminish the gifts of both the direc-tor and directee. It is the view of the authors that licensing, evolving in the current secula¢ context, goes against the very grain of what spiritual direction is all about and could do a real disservice to those who enter into a direction relationship fearing lawsuits. It could also have a chill-ing effect on directees as well. There is something unique, healing, and very human about spiritual direction as a growth process if we view it as art, science, and discipline. 662 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 VII. Some Final Observations In reviewing the current legal opinions regarding malpractice in the area of spiritual and pastoral counseling, the authors present several ob-servations. --Licensing spiritual directors is clearly a prophetic question as pro-posed by Gill and is coming increasingly into its own time. The issues surrounding licensing are complex, profound in their implications, dis-turbing, and hopeful as we look at the work of defining the criteria for training, developing, and evaluating competent directors. --Defining what competencies are needed in a spiritual director in different schools of spirituality, religious groups and sects, and what con-tent needs to be included in their training programs producing such pro-fessionals is a challenge that is only beginning to be publicly addressed, discussed, or attempted. --In light of the current legal findings and opinions, spiritual direc-tors need to demand and seek training that is concerned with addressing issues of competency as defined by the required knowledges, skills/ abilities, and personal characteristics/qualities reflecting their spiritual tra-dition towards achieving competency in the training of spiritual direc-tors. --First steps would be for practitioners in the field to come together in a spirit of open inquiry, genuine unselfish concern, and humble aware-ness of the enormity of the task to be accomplished. Developing semi-nars and forming associations or professional forums could provide prac-titioners the milieu to discuss, study, and outline priorities and action steps towards the establishment of professional criteria and guidelines for training, developing, and evaluating spiritual directors. NOTES Gill, "License Spiritual Directors?" 6 Human Development 2 (Summer, 1985). Nally vs. Grace Community Church, 204 Cal. Rptr. 303 (Cal. App. 3 Dist. 1984). Ibid, at p. 303. 4 Ibid, at p. 303. 5 Ibid, at p. 303. Nally vs. Grace Community Church, 253 Cal. Rptr. 97, 1988. lbid, at p. 219. 8 lbid, at p. 105. 9 Ibid, at p. 105. ¯~o Ibid, at p. 105. Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth, Competency Profile. ~2 Restatement (Second) of Torts 299A (1977). t3 Ibid. ~4 W. Prosser, Law of Torts (1966). 15 j. English, Spiritual Freedom (1975). 16 M. Conroy, Growth in Love and Freedom (1987). 17 Nally vs. Grace Community Church, 253 Cal. Rptr. 97 at p. 106. Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 663 18 Ibid, at p. 106. 19 Ibid, at p. 103. 20 Ibid, at p. 108. 21 Ibid, at p. 108. 22 Ibid, at p. 109. 23 Lemon vs. Kurtzman, 403 U.S. 602. 24Ibid, at p. 60. 25Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth, Competency. The Risk You take a risk when you invite the Lord Whether to dine or talk the afternoon Away, for always the unexpected soon Turns up: a woman breaks her precious nard, A sinner does the task you should assume, A leper who is cleansed must show his proof: Suddenly you see a hole in your roof And a cripple clutters up your living room. There's no telling what to expect when He Walks in your door. The table set for tea Must often be enlarged and decorum Thrown to the wind. It's His voice that calls them And it's no use to bolt and bar the door: His kingdom knows no bounds-~of roof, or wall, or floor. Marcella M. Holloway, C.S.J. 6321 Clemens Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63130 Prayer as Desire: An American ViewI Richard E. Lamoureux, a.a. Father Richard E. Lamoureux, a.a., has been provincial for the Augustinians of the Assumption. His address is Assumptionist Center; 330 Market Street; Brighton, Mas-sachusetts 02135. The contemporary American artist Andrew Wyeth teaches us a good deal about prayer. Many of his paintings, depicting everyday objects--a bowl of fruit, a cookie jar, a cooling blueberry pie--invite a quiet, simple gaze. But it is not just Wyeth's spare, silent scenes that lead us in the direction of prayer. So many of his portraits are unconventional inas-much as they present the subject turning away from the viewer, appar-ently looking for something in the distance. Forrest Wall, shown in the Man from Maine (1951), turns his back to us and peers out a window partially visible on the right. Elizabeth James, in Chambered Nautilus (1956), does the same from her sick bed. What may be Wyeth's most famous painting depicts Christina Olsen (Christina's WorM, 1948) sit-ting in the field below her home, straining with all her might in the di-rection of the house as if she might return there on the strength of her desire despite the palsied legs that restrict her to the ground. Two of his most beautiful paintings are portraits of Jimmy Lynch. One (The Swinger, 1969) shows him on a porch swing looking off into the dis-tance; the other (Afternoon Flight, 1970) catches him similarly absorbed. What is it on the horizon that draws his gaze?2 This most American artist explores a dimension of our existence that I would consider to be a central ingredient in prayer. In what follows, I want to explain how longing or desire is at the heart of prayer and how desire has fared in our recent American experience. Finally, I will sug-gest a way to address the particular challenge that faces us as American 664 Prayer as Desire / 665 women and men of prayer. No one has explained better than Saint Augustine how desire is re-lated to prayer. Sometime at the beginning of the fifth century, Augustine received a letter from Proba, a Roman woman whose husband had just died.3 Her purpose in writing was to ask a simple question: can you tell me something about prayer that would be helpful? In his response, Augustine writes unexpectedly at great length about widowhood and then tries to explain how it relates to prayer. For example, he says to Proba: What characteristic of widows is singled out if not their poverty and deso-lation? Therefore, insofar as every soul understands that it is poor and desolate in this world, as long as it is absent from the Lord, it surely commends its widowhood, so to speak, to God its defender, with con-tinual and most earnest prayer (p. 400). Augustine very simply reminds Proba that her widowhood, that is, her experience of loss and especially her desire for presence once again, is a precious opportunity to learn about prayer. If you would want to pray, Augustine seems to be saying, begin with the experience of desire or longing. Augustine, then, defines prayer primarily as desire. Words and pi-ous activities, which we normally think of as prayer, are useful only to the extent that they intensify our desire for God. They are necessary, he writes, so that we may be roused and may take note of what we are asking, but we are not to believe that the Lord has need of them . Therefore, when we say "Hallowed be thy name," we rouse ourselves to desire that his name, which is always holy, should be held holy among men and women also . . . (p. 391). Desire then is synonymous with prayer. In relating the two in that way, Augustine teaches us three very important lessons about prayer. First, prayer is really very simple. It is as natural for human beings as desire is. And desire, as we all know, is a universal human experience. It is as natural for a person to pray as it is for a person to desire. And a person who desires is a person who can pray. Second, by defining prayer in terms of desire rather than in terms of methods or formulas or actions, Augustine more clearly situates it as a function of the human heart. There is little that is more personal to us or that we are more hesitant to divulge than our desires. And Augustine would have us understand that it is precisely in that most intimate and personal place that prayer is born and grows. 666 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 Finally, by relating prayer to desire, Augustine helps us to under-stand that we can grow in prayer, for taking our desires seriously is a stimulus to such growth. He develops this idea in his letter to Proba and most especially in the Confessions. To Proba he writes: God wishes our desire to be exercised in prayer that we may be able to receive what he is preparing to give (1 Co 2:9) . Therefore, it is said to us: "Be enlarged, bear not the yoke with unbelievers" (2Co 6:13, 14), (p. 389). Desire helps to enlarge the heart. Augustine would claim that by fan-ning the flame of desire, we will become more able to recognize God's gift when it is offered and to appreciate it to the extent that it deserves. In the Confessions Augustine explains even more clearly how tak-ing our desires seriously is a stimulus to growth in prayer and can lead to deeper faith and intimacy with God. These desires are a complex re-ality ["Who can unravel that complex twistedness?" (II, 10)4] But rather than shy away from the complexity, Augustine sets out on a long journey precisely to get to the bottom of those desires. He goes all the way back to his earliest desire for the milk from his mother's breast, then recalls the games of his youth, and also the longing for wisdom when he read Cicero. With anguish, he remembers the burning desires that char-acterized his early relations and the resistance he put up to other desires lurking in his heart. "My soul turned and turned again, on back and sides and belly, and the bed was always hard" (VI,16). Augustine's long journey through the labyrinth of his soul was marked by a painful experience of desires at war with each other, but even more so by a confidence that the battle waged in all honesty and with his friends would lead to a liberation of his deepest desire, one that he came to understand could only be satisfied by God. "Behold thou art close at hand to deliver us from the wretchedness, of error and estab-lish us in thy way, and console us with thy word: 'Run, I shall bear you up and bring you and carry you to the end' " (VI, 16). Augustine took all of his desires seriously, even those that troubled him and brought him to tears, because he believed that all of them were in some way, at times in some distorted ways, a path to the deepest craving of the human heart. He seemed sure of God's love and also confident that deep within his own heart was an enormous love for God: "Thou hast made us for thy-self." (Confessions I, 1). Those are convictions we all find hard to come by, but they are crucial for growth along the way of prayer. To summarize then and to make the point clearly: for Augustine prayer is not more complicated than giving free rein and full expression Prayer as Desire / 66"/ to the sometimes confused desire for God that God has placed in our hearts. As he writes in his commentary' on the first letter of St. John: "Love and do what you will." Or perhaps I can say: "Desire and do what you will." Now, that may sound simple, but there are a few complicating fac-tors, some of which Augustine was aware of. Many of the complicating factors, however, are particular to our own time and culture; they are the shadow side of the cultural qualities we cultivate in the United States. One of the recent most popular movies, Dead Poets Society, is a se-rious indictment of American culture. It tells the story of a private pre-paratory school in the United States in 1959, where faculty and student body alike hold in highest esteem the pursuit of successful careers and high social status. Along comes an eccentric poetry teacher, effectively portrayed by Robin Williams. He succeeds in opening a few sleepy, even blind eyes, urges his students to ("carpe diem") "seize the moment," and awakens them to the excitement of poetry. Dull, distracted boys be-come spirited young men full of powerful desires. They found their own secret society where dead poets--and dead students-~come back to life. The movie was successful, I suppose, because it touched a sensitive chord in our American hearts. Though we are reluctant to admit this, the movie helped us see that we might be dull people, men and women with-out longing, without desire. But you might object: "Doesn't every human being desire some-thing?" As I reflected on the movie, I came to understand that for a va-riety of reasons and in different ways desire has been drained from our hearts. I could see it happening in four or five different ways. At other times and in other contexts, I might present the following items in a much more positive vein, as qualities that are proper to us as Americans. But in the context of this discussion on desire, what might be consid-ered the merits of our particular American way of living and looking at things becomes a liability. 1) In our day, in this country, by hard work, ingenuity, abundant natu-ral resources and a little bit of luck, we have attained a level of material satisfaction that enables us to meet most of our needs. We acknowledge that there are unsatisfied needs in us, but we are also confident that the only kinds of needs we have are needs that we can eventually satisfy our-selves. And if it takes too long to satisfy them, we energetically look for and usually find other remedies; there are many "quick fixes" we can turn to. But then if all the needs are satisfied, what is there left to de-sire? I am not simply condemning American materialism, nor am I re- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 ferring here to the unrestrained pursuit of pleasure and sensual satisfac-tion. Instead, I am suggesting 'that the level of material security we en-joy may be having a subtle, debilitating effect on our capacity to long for less material goods. When the Israelites complained to Jeremiah that it would be preferable to return to Egypt rather than remain in exile, he urged them to stay where they were for Yahweh was with them. Instead, however, they returned to Egypt "where at least they would not hun-ger" (Jr 42:1~4). It is not pleasant to be hungry, but can we live without desire? We can call this sort of person "the comfortable self," and the "comfortable sell'' has few desires. 2) Today especially we seek to be creative and responsible members of the human race. We are inclined to set aside as somewhat irrelevant and escapist distractions those vague interior Iongings that apparently can never be satisfied: there is too much in the world to do and no time to lose. We tend to set aside the simple and less gifted i~mong us and have little patience for wasted time and effort. In Bonfire of the Vanities, Tom Wolfe would say that our ambition is to be a "Master of the Universe," and we are convinced we just might succeed. The "creative, functional sell''has little time or. need for vague longings and can realize his desires by rolling up his sleeves. 3) Psychology has helped us uncover, identify, and explain many of our desires. But Freud would also have us demystify these desires, re-duce them to understandable drives, and either "manage" them so they do not interfere or banish them completely. The "psychological sell" runs the risk of reducing desires to insignificance by denying them the possibility of any transcendent origin, significance, or purpose. 4) Dead Poets Society points an accusing finger at a society drained of desire and life. But I think the movie suffers from the sickness it is trying to identify. Note the poets that are quoted in the movie: they are almost exclusively what we call the romantic poets. Other sections of the poetry anthology used by the students are ripped out. No mention of Shakespeare or Homer, Milton or Hopkins. Why should we read poetry, according to this movie? For the excitement of it, I gather. The movie seems to say: it does not really matter what you give your life to as long as you feel passionately enough to give your life. I admire the passion, but it is a self-destructive passion, self-preoccupied, narcissistic. Really, in the end, no passion at all. The desires of the "romantic sell'' self-destruct in a beautiful, but tragically brief burst of flame. 5) Finally, a word about the "tolerant sell'' and what that, in its most recent form, has done to desire. In many ways I consider this to Prayer as Desire / 669 be the most serious attack on desire in our day, and I will discuss it at greater length.5 The founders of our country, acutely aware of the reasons for which Europeans came to these shores and the political struggle that led to in-dependence, enshrined the principles of freedom and equality at the heart of our Constitution. They did so in revolt against oppression in the coun-tries they came from, to assure that in this new regime each person would be free to profess and practice the religion of one's choosing or none at all. In order to assure that no one religion would be given ascendancy and that all religions would be considered equally valid. Such liberty and equality imply a prior commitment to tolerance. As Locke had earlier suggested,6 not only does tolerance forestall religious wars and oppression, it would seem to be synonymous with Christian char-ity. We should hesitate to tamper with a doctrine such as that of toler-ance, which has brought us many blessings, but there may be some side effects that need to be taken into account. If tolerance leads us to assert that all religions are equally valid, then it seems inevitable that at some point one will begin to wonder whether it is worth embracing this par-ticular religion rather than another., or any at all. Tolerance as the paradigmatic American virtue in religious matters erodes conviction and desire; it all too often leads to indifference and loss of confidence.7 Let me explain with a non-religious example. For one person, work-ing hard to provide housing for the homeless is an important "value"-- to use that word as we are accustomed to using it today. For another per-son, earning a million dollars a year and dining at a 4-star restaurant five nights a week is a "value" she or he would hold to with as much, per-haps even more vigor. In a society where tolerance is the paramount vir-tue and where there can be no criteria for ranking so-called "values," our social worker has no right to consider his "value" more important than that of the millionaire. I think that is the conclusion we have to draw, and my guess is that our "tolerant" selves would be reluctant to draw any other. In that case, I could easily imagine the social worker, returning home after a frustrating fifteen-hour day, and exclaiming in quiet desperation: "why bother?" If all "values" are equal, our social worker will begin to doubt the real worth of what she or he is doing and be drained of passion or desire for the cause being promoted. Tolerance is a great American virtue. It protects us from oppression and even allows us to be critical of the regime. But the brand of toler-ance practiced today also exacts a high price. It can drain our soul of all 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 passion. Without passion or desire, the "tolerant self' will find it very difficult to pray. The comfortable self, the creative self, the psychological self, the ro-mantic self, the tolerant self--so many ways in which desire has been disarmed. It has been disarmed or short-circuited. What keeps desire alive has been eliminated. Etymologically, the word "desire" with its reference to "sidera," the stars, suggests that without an object that tran-scends the self, desire that is not created by the self, or under its con-trol, or in any way dependent upon the self, desire quickly evaporates. I think the social and political consequences of diluted or disarmed de-sire have been considerable, but in the context of this discussion I want to draw attention to the consequences for our faith and our prayer as well. So, how do we recover desire? The question is an old one. It already appears in the Gospel. But, as I have tried to explain above, our American context leads us to pose it in a particularly acute way. It should not come as a surprise that since we Americans are closest to the problem that it is we Americans who have also hit upon a solution. I think that Alcoholics Anonymous and its 12-step program, begun in this country some fifty years ago, may be helping us rediscover desire and could be more helpful to those wanting to pray than any crash course on meditation.8 This may come as a surprising suggestion. But consider some of the more traditional methods used to foster growth in prayer. Among the early desert fathers and mothers, one popular and effective method (known in the Russian Orthodox tradition today as "starchestvo") is a practice whereby the novice reveals to his spiritual master all of his in-terior thoughts and feelings and humbly seeks help in discerning what God calls him to through these apparently confused experiences.9 Augustine himself sought to grow in prayer by telling story after story of how he pursued one way then another in search of happiness and peace. Ignatius of Loyola in the sixteenth century devised a system of spiritual exercises, whereby the one seeking to grow spiritually reveals the promptings of his heart to a spiritual guide who helps him interpret and discern the desires that will lead to growth. Ignatius even urged that his followers, members of his Society, regularly "manifest their con-science" to their superiors, much like the monks in the desert, in order to gain enlightenment. Those are the traditional methods of spiritual growth, but for some reason today for many they are not working, or we are not inclined to take them seriously. But many are taking the 12 steps seriously. One of Prayer as Desire / 671 the insights on which the 12-step method is based is the importance of recounting, at a meeting or to a sponsor, the story of one's desires-- desires for alcohol, for sex, for food, desires that have run out of con-trol, but also a desire, perhaps only a small spark at the outset, but a de-sire for sobriety. It is in the telling and the retelling of the story that the desires are sorted out, that the healthiest sparks are fanned into stronger flames, and that one begins to come to deeper serenity and happiness. Why does the 12-step program work? Because I begin to name desires rather than blindly accede to them, proudly condemn them, or run from them in fear. Because I acknowl-edge that a power greater than I alone guides human affairs, inspires hu-man desires, and fulfills the deepest among these: the desires I can sat-isfy will not bring peace to a restless heart. Because I acknowledge that in addition to that power other people are necessary to test my desires and help me keep the best alive. Because I know that helping others will intensify my own desire at the same time as it helps another. I cannot explain adequately in this context the effectiveness of the 12-step program. I am grateful to those friends and confreres who have given me some understanding of the 12 steps and for their own witness to the program's power. They could better make the point I want to make. Beneath the program is an understanding of life deeply consonant with the Gospel and, I would maintain, profoundly nourishing for one's life of prayer. Remember Augustine's words to Proba: Insofar as every soul understands that it is poor and desolate in this world as long as it is absent from the Lord, it surely commends its wid-owhood, so to speak, to God its defender, with continual and most ear-nest prayer (p. 400). Prayer is impossible if you start from a distorted understanding of the Gospel. As Americans, our comfortable self may be too sated to seek a Savior, our creative self may lead us to think we can save ourselves, our psychological self may convince us that the desire for a Savior is escapism, our romantic self may consider the desire an end in itself, our tolerant self may think open-ness and tolerance are identical with love. The Gospel, the writings of Augustine, and the 12-step program re-flect both more skepticism and more confidence about human nature than any of these false selves. They are not so afraid or angry with their hu-manness that they deny or disregard their desires, but they do not accept 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 that responding to the most pressing desires will necessarily lead to the greatest happiness. They are deeply confident that their deepest desires can be satisfied, but have surrendered the illusion that they can or must explain or satisfy those desires on their own. They, like St. Paul, refuse to judge and condemn themselves, and certainly not others, but they cou-rageously and unambiguously name the desire that has led them to dis-aster and they can say: "My name is Richard or John or Dorothy, and I am an alcoholic!" Many are seeking new ways to pray, and a 12-step meeting is hardly an ancient method. But if I were to suggest the practices of sacramental confession or spiritual direction as ways to grow in prayer, many would not take note. Something has happened to our traditional practices or our use of them that has made them seemingly ineffective. What I am sug-gesting is that the 12-step program with its emphasis on confession/ story telling, community, and commitment to service--is a contempo-rary method that I feel convinced can teach us how to pray. I cannot help but believe that God is attentive to the simple prayer of a recovering al-coholic, a wounded person full of desire, who speaks with the words of the psalmist: God, you are my God, for you I long. For you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you like a dry, weary land without water. So I gaze on you in the sanctuary to see your strength and your glory, for your love is better than life. My lips will speak your praise, so I will bless you all my life. NOTES ~ A first version of this paper was presented as the keynote address for a Conference at Assumption College, Worcester, Massachusetts, entitled "Prayer--A Psychologi-cal Perspective." I am grateful to the organizers of the Conference, Dr. George Scar-lett and Rev. Edgar Bourque, A.A., for their invitation to address the Conference. 2 These paintings are reproduced in Davis McCord and Frederick A. Sweet, Andrew Wyeth (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1970). 3 Quotations from Augustine's letter are taken from The Fathers of the Church-- Saint Augustine: Letters Vol. II (New York: Fathers of the Church, Inc. 1953). 4 Quotations from the Confessions are taken from the translation by Frank J. Sheed in The Confessions of St. Augustine (London: Sheed & Ward, 1984, original edition 1944). 5 Although many have discussed this notion, the most thorough and cogent discus-sion recently is in the book by Allen Bloom, The Closing of the American Mind (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987). 6 See John Locke, A Letter Concerning Toleration, ed, by James H. Tully (Indian- Prayer as Desire / 1573 apolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1983). 7 In J. Hector St. John Crevecoeur, Letters from an American Farmer, (New York: Fox, Duffiealad and Company, 1904, reprinted from the original 1782 edition), pp. 64-65, we read an eighteenth-century account of religion in America. After describ-ing in letter no. 3 the variety of creeds cultivated in the country, the author contin-ues: "Each of these people instruct their children as well as they can, but these in-structions are feeble compared to those which are given to the youth of the poorest class in Europe. Their children will therefore grow up less zealous and more indif-ferent in matters of religion than their parents. The foolish vanity, or rather the fury of making Proselytes, is unknown here; they have no time, the seasons call for all their attention, and thus in a few years, this mixed neighborhood will exhibit a strange religious medley, that will be neither pure Catholicism nor pure Calvinism. A very perceptible indifference even in the first generation will become apparent." 8 A good deal of Alcoholics Anonymous literature deals with prayer and spiritual-ity. The eleventh step explicitly encourages the practice of prayer and meditation ("We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us, and the power to carry that out.") But the program can have even broader implications for the spiritual life. See "Origins of A.A. Spirituality" by Dr. Ernie Kurtz, The Blue Book, Vol. XXXVIII, Proceedings from the 38th Annual Symposium-June 16- 20, 1986 (January, 1987). Catholic writers and lecturers are beginning to discuss the spiritual potential of the program. See, for example, the recently released confer-ences of Father Richard Rohr, "Breathing under Water: Spirituality and the 12 Steps" (Saint Anthony Messenger Press Audiocassettes, 1989). 9 See B, Pennington, O.C.S.O., O Holy Mountain.t (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1984), p. 92. The Emptiness Within Barbara Dent Barbara Dent, mother and grandmother, has been for eighteen years a Secular Carmelite. One of her most recent books has been The Gifts of Lay Ministry (Ave Maria Press, 1989). Her address is Postinia: 7A Cromwell Place; Pukekohe, New Zealand. Ours is an age of space-consciousness and space exploration. These have induced an awareness of a limitless beyond that can be terrifying. We know that in space universe extends beyond universe in an infinitude of expanding galaxies. The immensity is beyond our comprehension. Ours is also an age of inner exploration of our own human psyche. Depth psychology probes level on level of inner awareness, submerged awareness, and non-awareness. These probings link up with that aspect of spirituality which mystically intuits the indwelling of the Trinity, the homeliness of God in us that Jesus spoke of and promised to his faithful followers the night before he died. Just as there is endless mystery in the outer universe, so there is also in the inner one. God dwells in us--if we long for him and prepare our spiritual house to receive him. Not only that, but he permeates our inner being further and further as we open ourselves to receive him. "How rich are the depths of God!" exclaimed St. Paul. And it is these very depths that merge with our own through the divine penetra-tion and the graces it brings. This is by no means always a consoling experience. On the contrary it can seem to hurl us into an abyss of unmeaning which is caused by our incapacity to understand divine meaning and purpose in all their in-finite inclusiveness. Only faith can cope with the apparent absurdity, and too often in this state we experience ourselves as lamentably lacking in faith. 674 The Emptiness Within / 675 In this article I examine and comment on this negative aspect of di-vine and human intermingling by using the concept of "the inner Void." Normally, we human beings fill our days and nights with the busi-ness of living, working, playing, and social interchange. This is the way it has to be if society is to continue and be dynamic. For committed Chris-tians this day-to-day living and doing is permeated with another dimen-sion- that of being-in-Christ. The more fully they relate mundane ac-tivities to loving and serving the Lord, the more Christocentric their lives become. The more they cleave to him, the more the Trinity enters into their inner selves through the purity of their intentions, so that they truly become temples of the Holy Spirit. A pure intention is one that is centered on what Jesus stressed must be our fundamental option--"God's will, not mine, because I love him with my whole being." Strangely, the intensity of such a single-minded love can lead not to a blissful sense of fulfillment, but to its opposite-- an experience of crucifying inner emptiness, a void of unappeasable long-ing crying out for a God who appears not to care or even answer. How much longer will you forget me, Yahweh? Forever? How much longer will you hide your face from me? How much longer must I en-dure grief in my soul, and sorrow in my heart by day and by night? (Ps 13:1-2). The ache for God, disguised as it may be in a multitude of ways, yet seems to be endemic to the human heart. In Christ's followers it can be-come so insistent that it rules their lives. After many years of loving, faith-ful service to this object of their desire, a paradoxical inner state is likely to develop. The searcher for the pearl of great price and the glorious lib-erty of the sons and daughters of God, though consumed with an intol-erable yearning for God, now experiences him as absent just when he is loved and longed for most. This is usually a sign of the call to a much deeper relationship with him, one that has a different quality from any that preceded it. We are drawn by the Spirit into this state of being when all created things have lost their power to compel or fulfill us. We have learned, often in bitterness and pain, that none of them can supply anything but a temporary and partial satisfaction. Behind and through them we have kept glimpsing their Creator, and now he fills our vision and summons us to come closer. We have begun floating in our inner Void, sure at last that only his love can fill it. 676 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 Aware that he is calling and drawing us, we want with all our will to respond, yet we remain thwarted. Yearn and strive as we may, we can neither reach nor receive him. Empty and grieving, we experience him as the absentee God, yet we have never in our lives been more free of sin and fuller of love than we now are. Why has this Void opened at the very time when we are possessed by love-longing for God? To anyone familiar with the inner depth reality of the subconscious and unconscious, the answer will make sense. The roots of our attachments to what God has created, and the causes of our persistence in letting them come between us and him, are still bur-ied deep within us. They fasten us down to where we are so that we are unable to soar in freedom to him. Though we have done all in our power, with the help of grace, to love and serve him, and though deliberate sin of any kind has long been eliminated from our living, the roots of sinful tendencies remain there hidden away, so that we are not even conscious of them. We cannot locate or name them, let alone wrench them out or dissolve them away. In our impotence and humiliation we gradually re-alize only God can do this through his own mighty love and the grace he pours into us through his Spirit. Only his action can gradually dilate our hearts so that they are able to receive more and more of what he offers. Only his grace can pene-trate into our subconscious to reveal what is concealed there. Only it can in various ways impel upwards into consciousness what is hidden. Only his Spirit of Wisdom knows and can reveal to us in ways we can accept what must be made conscious and purified if we are to enter into full un-ion with the Trinity. By invading our depths, the Spirit is not violating our free will, for God knows our longing for him is such that at last we are prepared to let him have his way with us, no matter how much it hurts. "Oh God, my God, for you my heart yearns, like a dry, weary land without water" (Ps 63:1 ). God's answer to our yearnings is to fill our Void with himself. This process is purgatorial. After death we pass outside time and space into eternity and infinity. If at this transition we are not already filled with God, our Void goes with us. No one has returned to tell us how God deals with it then, but traditionally the Church has taught the doctrines of purgatory (a cleansing process through which grace fits us to receive and behold God), and hell, where our Void remains just that forever. All those, known and unknown, who have become saints before they died, The Emptiness Within / 677 have had their Voids filled with God in this life. Some have left records of what their experience was like, and these indicate something at least of what they endured under the Spirit's ruthless but perfectly loving ac-tion. St. John of the Cross's testimony is probably the most authoritative, instructive, and detailed, After stressing that this state of purification is one of darkness and pure faith, he elaborates as below. "The Divine assails the soul in order to renew it and thus to make it Divine; and, stripping it of the habitual affections and attachments of the old man, to which it is very closely united, knit together and con-formed, destroys and consumes its spiritual substance, and absorbs it in deep and profound darkness. As a result of this, the soul feels itself to be perishing and melting away, in the presence and sight of its miseries, in a cruel spiritual death, even as if it had been swallowed by a beast (as Jonas was). (and) in this sepulcher of dark death it must needs abide until the spiritual resurrection which it hopes for. ". But what the sorrowful soul feels most in this condition is its clear perception, as it thinks, that God has abandoned it, and, in his ab-horrence of it, has flung it into darkness. It is a grave and piteous grief for it to believe that God has forsaken it . For indeed when this pur-gative contemplation is most severe, the soul feels very keenly the shadow of death and the lamentations of death and the pains of hell, which consist in its feeling itself to be without God, and chastised and cast out, and unworthy of him; and it feels that he is wroth with it" (Dark Night II, Ch. VI, 1 & 2). The intensity and pain of this inner experience of the Void will vary according to the strength and depths of our sin-roots, the greatness of our love and longing for God, our perseverance and abandonment during the process, the degree of holiness (or wedding garment splendor and soar-ing freedom) God intends for each sufferer. This purpose of his is, of course, hidden in the mystery of his endless love, of which the Void it-self is but one aspect. If the Void is endured until the process of cleansing and freeing is completed, we have been through and emerged from our own personal purgatory. We are united with the Trinity in what has been called "trans-forming union" ("I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me") or "the spiritual marriage." "Alleluia! The reign of the Lord our God the Almighty has begun. Let us be glad and joyful and give praise to God, because this is the time for the marriage of the Lamb. His bride is ready, and she has been able Review for Religious, September-October 1990 to dress herself in dazzling white linen, because her linen is made of the good deeds of the saints" (Rv 19:7-8). Our Void has been emptied of self and filled with Christ. What are some of the hallmarks of this emptying and filling of the Void, in the here and now? Here is a commentary on a few of the main ones. 1. Helpless Waiting In the Void we have no alternative but to wait. I think of Mary be-tween the annunciation and the birth of Jesus. She knew she had con-ceived and that the Christ of God was growing and developing within her, but the process was and had to remain hidden and secret. What she did not know was exactly what and who the child would prove to be. God was at work in her, and she was co-operating pas-sively, through her fiat, by letting it happen and trusting him about the outcome of his labors. She was "full of grace" and so the whole pro-cess was under the Spirit's complete control. Her personal contribution was to stay still and see what eventuated. Once the Void opens in us, we too, must wait while Christ is formed in us in his fullness. We continue to live and love as Christians, to serve God and neighbor in our work, personal relationships, duties and offer-ings, all aimed at renewing the temporal order and purifying our lives from self-love and self-seeking. We have been doing these things for a long time and had assumed we would be persevering in them in much the same way till death. We do persevere, but not "in the same way." For now the Void is there, and we begin to enter a new dimension and level of being. Gradually grace enlightens us so that we understand something of what still needs to be done in our inner depths to open us to God so he can penetrate further. At the same time we are shown how it is beyond our own capacity and resources to bring about such a self-exposure. A chasm of helplessness and poverty gapes within us. We realize that in our frozen immobility we are still able to act in one specific way. We can let God act, and stay passive ourselves. We can let him do the un-veiling and the choosing, for us and in us in his own way and time. Our role is to surrender and wait. And wait. And wait . Waiting is a difficult art to learn and practice in our frenetically ac-tive and materialistic age. Neither our environment, education nor life aims and circumstances have prepared us for it. Though we try, we go The Emptiness Within on failing, because we cannot help interfering with God in spite of our best intentions. Humbled, we learn that only grace can enable us to learn this painful art. Under its influence, we slowly begin to relax and be still, and our Void gently opens wider in faith, trust, and hope. We realize how im-portant patience is, how lost we are if God does not help us, how he does not and cannot do so unless we deliberately exercise our free will and let him. Here the active and the passive merge. As we go on waiting, our helplessness deepens into a sense of im-potence. We are rather like quadriplegics who must depend on others for most of their needs. If they are not to be consumed with self-pity and rage, they must turn the necessary waiting that forms an indelible part of their lives into an art. We ourselves are not waiting for other people to help us, but for God. "I waited and waited for Yahweh. Now at last he has stooped to me and heard my cry for help" (Ps 40:1). 2. Longing for God Thirst for God consumes us in this state. "As a doe longs for run-ning streams, so longs my soul for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, the God of my life" (Ps 42:1-2). We are like "a dry, weary land without water" (Ps 63:1). When two lovers are parted, they long ardently and painfully for each other's presence. In the Void we experience God as an absentee God, even as one who spurns us. We are hopelessly in love with him-- we would not have been invited by the Spirit into this level of being were it not so--yet he seems to be denying himself to us, to be teasing us cru-elly on purpose. We know he is there, believethis is so, and in some indescribable, formless way even experience him as indeed with us, enfolding us, and yet we never seem to reach or catch sight of him. In his absence we have faith he is present, but this is no comfort. It is like being alone in a completely dark room, yet having an intui-tive awareness of another Presence with us in the same enclosed space. We cannot see or touch him or even hear his breathing. Yet, shiveringly, we are completely certain Someone is with us. Perhaps because of this strange certainty, our longing that is never appeased intensifies until it possesses us. This absentee yet ever-present God and Lover we experience as capricious, so that our longing is a form of bitter suffering, and often we have to struggle against feelings of re- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 sentment and hopelessness. We challenge him, "It is you, God, who are my shelter. Why do you abandon me?" (Ps 43:2). There is no answer, no comfort. The silence is absolute, our hunger unappeased. In the end, we become dumb. Our patience in waiting has deepened as our longing intensified. We understand the time for consum-mation is not. yet, for we are not ready. We see that our longing is a grace, given to us so we will more readily submit to an even more radi-cal emptying out. We have not yet reached that total nakedness o.f un-selfed love which will indicate our readiness to be clothed in Christ. We have yet to long for this for his sake, his honor and glory, the fulfilling of his incarnational aims, instead of for our own self-gratifica-tion, and our pleasure in our own "holiness." At last we understand that our motives need radical purification, for they are laced together every-where by tenuous, yet tough strands of self-love and self-will. All holiness is God's. Of ourselves we have none until we have put on Christ and can glory in his glory, and love with his love. Our longing is being purified till this is what we truly want above all else. 3. Loss of Meaning and Purpose Whether it is a cause or a result of the Void is hard to say, but one of the hallmarks of this state is loss of meaning and purpose on one level, and final regaining of it on another. The loss shows itself in our life situ-ation in doubts and disillusionments about our personal relationships, and our aims, activities, and ambitions to do with worldly matters. What preoccupied us and fed our drive in our work now seems taw-dry and not worth all this effort. We question its reality and its right to absorb so much of our energy, to demand and receive our concentrated attention. Has it the right to fasten us so securely to the daily grind when God's insistent call to another level of being is there in the background all the time, distracting us? Of what use is "getting to the top"? Winning that big increase in salary? Being treated with respect and deference as the one who "has it all at her fingertips," the indispensable manager and organizer? There are times when we ardently want to "throw it all away" be-cause it seems so fatuous. Yet we know we cannot opt out, for we have a spouse to be faithful to, offspring to put through university, the mort-gage to pay off, obligations to associates to fulfill, our own lifelong am-bition to bring to its triumphant peak, a whole life pattern to round off harmoniously. Somehow we have to learn to live with our growing awareness of it all as a mindless treadmill "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." The Emptiness Within In the face of the Void, it lacks reality, but, nonetheless, must be at-tended to. The true reality is an indefinable something located in our inner emp-tiness. It is drawing us till we want to let go of everything else and reck-lessly jump into that abyss to meet its embrace. At this point some people have a breakdown so that circumstances force them to take a long rest from their life-in-the world obligations and ambitions. Others keep on mechanically, but their heart is no longer in it, and they feel nothing but relief when someone else replaces them or the time comes for them to retire. This disillusionment and lack of drive registers as a humiliating disaster, yet it may well be a special grace open-ing the way for us to concentrate on "the one thing necessary." Alarmingly, the problem increases, rather than diminishes, once we free ourselves enough for such concentration. It is like a slap in the face to discover that we cannot find "mean-ing" in the things of God either, though we dumbly and idiotically know the meaning is there somewhere, expressed in ancient Babylonian hiero-glyphics no doubt! (And no one taught us at school or in the boardroom how to interpret these!) Faced with the Void and its implications, we find ourselves unable to understand God's meaning and purpose in our own lives or those of others. His actions seem arbitrary and often absurd. In fact, a general senselessness defying the rational mind pervades the whole Void. We slither aimlessly about, till we remember the lesson about staying still and waiting. When we apply this perseveringly, we are able to accept that it is no wonder we cannot understand the divine meaning and purpose when it is infinite and eternal while we ourselves remain time and space im-prisoned. It is also perfect love and omniscient wisdom, while we are full of "lacklove" and distorted vision. During the years spent in the Void we slowly learn to rest in peace in God's incomprehensible will, to trust its apparent irrationality, to have faith in its aim to express his beneficent care of us in and through our life circumstances even when they appear to be nothing but "a tale told by an idiot," to hope doggedly in a future blessed by fulfillment in bliss-ful union with him. Our concept of life's meaning and purpose has changed radically as grace permeated those levels where our basic semi- and unconscious re-bellion and misapplied self-will lay hidden but potent. 4. The Darkness of Entombment Review for Religious, September-October 1990 In the Void we are in the process of dying with Christ and being bur-ied with him so that our life may be his life and we be hidden with him in God, our glory part of his (see Col 2:12, 3:2-4). When Jesus hung upon the cross, he was in a kind of void between earth and heaven: the vacant space left by total immolation for the sake of others; the blank of utmost loneliness and dereliction expressed through his cry of abandonment and desolation; the kenosis of the God- Man brought about by the complete surrender of his awareness of his God-ness, coupled with his immersion in his representative Man-ness--his slav-ery as sin-taker for us when he himself was sinless. In various degrees and ways we, his lovers and beloveds, are invited by him to enter into his crucifixion and kenosis with him so we may even-tually share his resurrection glory. We have to die to self by hanging there with and in him through the sufferings--physical, mental, psycho-logical, emotional, and spiritual that God permits to come to us, and that our own and others' sins and sinfulness bring upon us. After the crucifixion comes the interlude of the entombment before the resurrection can occur. The sense of entombment is an essential as-pect of the Void. If we think of Jesus' corpse lying still,, cold, and alone on the stone slab, we shall understand some of the basic elements of the spiritual state of those called to die with him in order to rise with him. There is the darkness of this stone cavern behind its stone door. No chink of light anywhere. It makes us feel our intellect has been blinded and we shall never understand anything about God again. Though we carry on with our daily lives more or less satisfactorily, we suffer a kind of sense-deprivation of the spirit, (Only those who have experienced this state of being will find meaning in this paradox.) One form of torture of prisoners is to lock them into a pitch dark cell where there is complete sense deprivation so that time ceases to have meaning, as does everything else. Entombed with Jesus, we are in a similar state because all the satis-factions and enjoyments that come to a human being through his senses of hearing, sight, smell, touch, and taste no longer have power either to distract or fulfill us. We have become one-purposed in our longing for God, and the senses cannot tempt us away from it with their promise of surface, ephemeral delights. Since we have renounced the lesser good for the greater, the Spirit obliges by paradoxically taking away their irrelevant enticements--in a spiritual sense. To express it otherwise, our senses and our bodies and The Emptiness Within/ all our material being continue to function adequately for the purposes of everyday life. However, in relation to the spiritual life, we have be-come numb and dumb to their joys, attractions and any urge to seek deep meaning and fulfillment through them. We have been brought to that State where we float in the Void of blind faith that none of our senses can affirm as a reality. We gaze upon God without seeing him. We hear his Word without understanding it. We taste his supportive love without any sweetness or consolation--as if our taste buds had been anesthetized. He is weaning us from all such reassurances by imprisoning us in this Void of sense deprivation. He means us to learn how to enter, unencum-bered, into the central mystery of his Being, spirit to Spirit. He has led us into the depths of the Night of Faith. In it, usually for years after painful years, we learn to lie down with the dead Jesus in the tomb. We learn to lie there patiently and wait in our nakedness. We learn what being still really means as we contemplate the Savior's unbreathing body--not with bodily eyes, but with spiritual ones of unquestioning faith and a love stripped of self-seeking. We are seeds fallen into the ground and undergoing the hidden meta-morphosis from which we shall at last emerge, essentially changed per-sons, into spiritual resurrection. 5. Loneliness The inner Void is a crucifyingly lonely space of nothingness. We shall probably find there is no one who can understand our state, except one who is also in it, or one who has endured it and emerged. The one in it may be able to offer sympathy and sharing. The one emerged can give reassurance, understanding, encouragement, guidance, support, and hope for the future. This is so only if she or he has some understanding of what the lonely one is passing through or has emerged from. Such un-derstanding is rare. The Void can have many guises, including those of mental, emo-tional, or physical breakdown. It is often mingled with factors associ-ated with these. It adapts itself to whatever needs to be purified in the particular sufferer, since it is always under the control of the Spirit. It is not easy, and almost impossible, to discover a fellow sufferer who is enduring the same searching trial in the same ways. A qualified, learned, compassionate spiritual guide who has had both personal experience of the Void and of supporting others immersed in it is a very special blessing from God--one that is seldom given. An es-sential part of learning to live at peace in the Void's faith dimension is Review for Religious, September-October 1990 that of being able to trust oneself blindly to the hidden guidance and con-trol of the Spirit coming directly instead of through an intermediary. The purification process includes enduring it alone with God--and an absen-tee God at that. The only sure and never-failing companion is Jesus in his passion, especially in Gethsemane and in his cry of dereliction on the cross. We can find here, in union with him, the strength and purpose to endure, to hang helpless and in agony in absurdity, giving oneself up out of love for his redemptive work, staying with, and in him gladly, for love of him, sharing his loneliness and comforting his desolation. This is anything but mere sentimentality, as anyone who has really done it knows. It is a genuine, self-obliterating response of "Yes" to his questions, "Will you drink of the cup I must drink of? . . . Will you watch one hour with me? . . . Will you take up your cross and follow ¯ me? . . . Will you give yourself with me for others? . . . Will you love my Father's will wholeheartedly as I do to the end? . . . Will you fol-low me wherever I lead? . . . Will you go down into the darkness and die with me and then wait with me in my tomb till resurrection morning comes? . . . Will you dare Sheol with me? o . ." If we agree to share his loneliness, we shall indeed be lonely, and in that desolation share the essential loneliness of all abandoned, help-less, despised, outcast, comfortless human beings whom he represented on the cross, as well as those lost in the black loneliness of habitual, sev-ering sin, or those immured in purgatory in this life or the next. We may have friends who love and try to comfort us, but this will do little to ease what is a loneliness of our very essence crying out for God. Only if they have been through it themselves will they be able to apply balm. In the ultimate there is only one who can fill the Void of loneliness with genuine fulfillment and it is God himself. He is busy preparing in us a place fit to receive him. All we can do is wait in faith, hope, and love that feel like unbelief, despair, and a numb indifference that will never be able to love again. "Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!" 6. Awareness of Sin The Void strips away inessentials, leaving the emptiness of nothing to cling to but God--and in.bare, stubborn faith. Because the motes in our own eyes (our absorption in the secondar-ies of created things instead of the one primary necessity of God) have The Emptiness Within now been removed, at least partly, by grace, we see much better. One of the things we see with our new sight and in startling clarity is the re-ality of sin. Not so much actual sins--these are fairly obvious to discern and we have long ago trained ourselves to watch and guard against them in our own lives. No--what we now see with the eyes of our spirit enlightened by the Spirit is innate sinfulness. We become aware of its substratum in ourselves (those tangled "roots" I mentioned earlier), and in other hu-man beings we have to do with. We helplessly observe it issuing from us and them in all kinds of meannesses, envies, prevarications, self-delusions, self-loves, rationalizations. Squirming and humiliated, we face, with the help of grace, that, "This is me . . . that is the person I loved and revered so much . " If we do not take care, this pitiless insight will cause discouragement and fear in ourselves, and a judg-mental, condemnatory, disillusioned attitude towards others--even cyni-cism. The taste of this racial and personal basic sinfulness is bitter indeed. We want to spit it out and rush to grab something, sweet to gourmandize on and hide that vile flavor. We have been living all the time with a des-picable traitor within us, and till now we have never even glimpsed him. His cronies are present in all other members of the human race, and from them emanate the sorrows, sins, evils and disasters of living on this planet that has been tipped off its axis. Some of the penitential psalms now have for us as never before a co-gent, humbling, and intensely personal message. Paraphrasing a little, we cry with St. Paul, "Who will rescue me from this enemy within?" and reply with him, "Nothing else but the grace of God, through Jesus Christ, our Lord." We know now that we really do need a personal Savior, that we would be lost without Jesus, that an essential part of our Void experi-ence is acknowledging our personal, basic sinfulness for which the only cure is the grace that Jesus gives. We cry, "Lord, you came to save me-- because I needed you so much. I need you even more now you have shown me the truth about myself. Only show me what you want of me, and I will do it. I will do anything at all for you, my Lord and my Sav-ior, because you have rescued me in my great need." This time we really mean it, because we are so much closer to Truth itself. We have been given the grace of a genuine horror of sin because of what it did to Jesus, and still does to him suffering in his members. We long to help heal the wound of sin in his Body. We offer our per- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 sonal wound of sin to him, humbly pleading for the grace of healing. As never before we understand the cleansing power and action of grace, sac-ramentally and otherwise. We hunger for it, seek it, open ourselves wide to receive it. We become beggars for it. We learn what spiritual poverty really means, and again lie down with Jesus in the tomb, content to be naked, trusting in his Body and Blood to heal us of our grievous wound. We are learning what it means to be dead to self and alive to Christ and his members. In the inner Void the self becomes so tiny in the Allness of God. We do not lose our individuality, but we long for it to be absorbed in Christ, so that we become exactly that aspect of his extended incarnation and continuous passion destined for us by the Father. We pray for deliverance from all evil--for ourselves, and for every other human being. We pray fervently, for at last we have "seen" what naked sin and evil are, and what they bring about--the death of the Loved One. 7. We enter a state of Heroic Abandonment and Endurance. Our Void has opened up enough for us to receive the grace we must have to enable us to lie down in the Lord in a state of advanced inner stillness, trust, and hope. The Void's darkness begins to take on the faint glow of incipient dawn, the intense silence is broken by the first tenta-tive twitterings of birds as something soundlessly rolls away our tomb's stone door. The sense of being stifled eases and we draw deep breaths of sweet, cold, dew-drenched air. There is deep within us an awareness of wounds having been healed, of a terrifying emptiness having been filled with Someone, of Love himself annihilating loneliness forever, of a still, si-lent, crystalline joy, and blessedness welling up from deep, deep down, crying in exultation, "Abba! Alleluia! Amen!" Then we see a Person is walking like a king towards the light grow-ing and glowing every second in the tomb's open doorway. It is as if the light emanates from him, as if he is The Light. Wondering and worship-ping, we rise from our stone slab, gather about us the new white gar-ment we find there and follow the Light into the new day. There is no void of inner emptiness anymore. Christ risen and triumphant fills it with himself. Shame: A Barometer of Faith Clyde A. Bonar Father Clyde A. Bonar is a priest of the diocese of Orlando, Florida. He holds ad-vanced degrees in formative spirituality from Duquesne University and in political science from George Washington University. He has served as parochial vicar and administrator of various parishes. His address is St. Joseph of the Forest Catholic Church; 1764 S.E. 169th Avenue Road; Silver Springs, Florida 32688. Aristotle called shame "a feeling or emotion . a kind of fear of dis-grace."~ Interestingly, what one values and what one distains can pro-vide a source for these feelings of disgrace. This allows shame to become a barometer of faith. For the faithfilled person, lapses in living one's faith, for example, can be causes for shame. Conversely, one who scorns religion may find shameful any personal exhibition of faith in an Eter-nal Being. In this paper I shall examine the generic core of "shame" and re-late the experiences of shame in the life of Francis of Assisi (ca. 1182- 1226). Francis' well-known incidents with the lepers caused that saint feelings of shame. Notably, why Francis felt shame about the lepers dif-fered in the earlier and the later parts of his life. Because of that, Fran-cis becomes illustrative of how shame can be a barometer of one's faith. On Shame The Generic Core The core of the shame experience is a sense of exposure and visibil-ity. 2 First, shame is intimately linked to the need to cover that which might unwantedly be exposed. Experiences of shame involve the expo-sure of the peculiarly sensitive, intimate, and vulnerable aspects of the self.3 Something is to be hidden, dodged, or covered up; even, or per- 687 61~1~ / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 haps especially, from oneself. Feelings of shame included "I am weak" and "I am inadequate." The particularities of what must be covered to prevent exposure may vary widely and are individually determinate. For example, while a physical deformity caused Philip in Of Human Bondage4 to feel shame when his clubfoot was exposed, a deeper shame burned "in secret" as Dimmes-dale in Scarlet Letter saw Hester Prynne bear in public the blame for their joint carnal indiscretion .5 Socrates warns of the disgraceful shame of ap-pearing inept in the presence "of some really wise man.' ,6 Personally, for example, I have felt shame for the way I treated a traveling compan-ion during a three-day trip. Second, there is an intimate connection between shame and visibil-ity. 7 When Yahweh called to Adam after he and Eve had eaten the for-bidden fruit, Adam said: "Because I was naked . . . I hid" (Gn 3:11). In his phenomenology of shame, Jean-Paul Sartre claims that shame arises from the look of the Other. "Shame. is the recognition of the fact that I am indeed that object which the Other is looking at and judg-ing." 8 When another looks at him, Sartre comments: What I apprehend immediately., is that I am vulnerable, that I have a body which can be hurt, that I occupy a place and that I cannot in any case escape from the space in which I am without defense--in short, that I am seen.9 Everyday expressions repeat this connection between visibility and shame. We speak of being "shamefaced" or "hiding my face in shame" when others know our failures, inadequacies, or losses of con-trol. A Happy Blush Two other aspects of shame need to be kept in mind as we proceed: that the feeling of shame comes unexpected. That first and physiologi-cal manifestation of shame, the blush, highlights the involuntary and sud-den characteristic of shame. Helen Lynd is perceptive on this aspect of shame: Shame interrupts any unquestioning, unaware sense of oneself . More than other emotions, shame involves a quality of the unexpected: if in any way we feel it coming we are powerless to avert it . What-ever part voluntary action may have in the experience of shame is swal-lowed up in the sense of something that overwhelms us . We are taken by surprise, caught off guard, or off base, caught unawares, made a fool of. ~0 Shame / 689 In his illustration of the voyeur at the keyhole, Jean-Paul Sartre confirms the "immediate shudder" of being unexpectedly caught: "All of a sud-den I hear footsteps in the hall. Someone is looking at me!''~ Importantly, this self-consciousness contains a revealing capacity. Again, it is Sartre who captures this: "Shame is by nature recognition. I recognize that I am as the Other sees me." ~2 Shame carries the weight of "I cannot have done this. But I have done it and cannot undo it, be-cause this is 1.''13 The thing that is exposed is what I am. To "recognize" one's self is to be open to reformation, and there is the delight. Adrian van Kaam writes that "reformation implies a re-appraisal of formative and deformative dispositions, judgments, memo-ries, imaginations, and anticipations." ~4 If experiences of shame can be fully faced, if we allow ourselves to realize their import, they can inform the self and become a revelation of one's self. The question is exactly what personal disposition is revealed by the quick reddening of the blush, the sudden feeling of shame, this which involuntarily and unexpectedly just happens. Writing back in 1839 on The Physiology or Mechanism of Blushing, Thomas Burgess reported that the blush reflects "the various internal emotions of the moral feel-ings [so that one could] know whenever we transgressed or violated those rules which should be held sacred." He continued to point out that, given this "spiritual" nature of the "blush," it is "solely a moral stimulus that will excite a true blush.''15 That is~ it is our value system that is re-vealed by shame. For example, if I hold dispositions mostly congenial with the particular individual God designed me to be, a blush will reveal that there are also some uncongenial and not-reformed dispositions. Or, by contrast, if my fundamental orientation is that talk of God is mean-ingless I may blush at some scruples within my disposition constellation that would be more in agreement with faith in an Eternal Being. Among The Lepers The immediate question is what should not be exposed, what should be covered from visibility. Francis' experience with the lepers proves in-structive. In his "Testament" he wrote: The Lord granted to me, Brother Francis, to begin to do penance in this way: While I was in sin, it seemed very bitter to me to see lepers. And the Lord Himself led me among them and I had mercy upon them. And when I left them that which seemed bitter to me was changed into sweet-ness of soul and body.~6 This too brief statement includes all the elements of experiences of 690 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 shame. Fallen Nature of Humanity By his words "While I was in sin" Francis refers to his youthful years. In his parents' home he enjoyed the easy life his successful father could provide. He was a most likable lad, clever, charming, smooth-talking, and insanely generous. Francis had a gift for business and seemed born to be a merchant like his father. The son enjoyed dressing with a studied elegance and entertaining at a good inn with the best of everything. Friends flocked around Francis when he appeared and played the troubadour with his Provencal songs. 17 One would say that Francis was reflecting the fallen nature of hu-manity common since the first sin of Adam, living in ignorance of the true transcendent nature of humanity. ~8 Caught in the competitive trade of the cloth merchant, his father taught Francis to live by that competi-tion. Escape in the exigencies and the excitement of being the business-man became a way of life, with questions of transcendence relegated to minor, occasional thoughts. Responsibility for being a faithfilled Chris-tian example for others was evaded, for the other was also typically the customer, who was to be sold something even if that meant a little de-ception and an excess of charm. Immersion in the sensual joys of life was a natural corollary in a society of, according to Pope Innocent III, "obscene songs, dances, and fornications." 19 Still, why was Francis affected by the lepers as he was? Other youths, his peers in cultural refinement and the easy life, would merely hold their noses when they smelled the horrible stench of the lazaretto where the lepers were confined, and unashamedly turn their horses a dif-ferent direction. But for Francis the human misery breathing death right into his face was incredibly disagreeable. And, the young clothier would experience shame when a wretched beggar would intrude.2° A clue to Francis at this early point in his life, while he was still "in sin," lies, I opine, in the phenomenology of shame. As we saw above, shame is an experience of the whole self: in moments of shameful expo-sure it is the self that stands revealed.2~ Existentialists state this force-fully: in the consciousness of shame, there is "a shameful apprehension of something and this something is me. I am ashamed of what I am . Through shame I have discovered an aspect of my being."22 The self that was standing revealed for Francis'was, in the terms of Adrian van Kaam, his foundational life form. The image of God deep within Francis was being exposed. Thomas Burgess, cited above, might say it was the internal moral feelings of Francis which were being ex- posed. As early as twelve years old Francis was struck in some special way by the elevation of the consecrated host during Mass. In the mud-dle of being dominated by his sensual and functional dimensions and his sociohistorical situations, the inchoate thunderbolt of the transcendent was there. But within the flamboyance and egotism of the sensuous and romantic party giver he appeared to be, Francis would feel shame when his more basic faith in God would protrude. His lifestyle hid from visi-bility the transcendent, as he took greater pleasure in identifying him-self as a prince of the world and knight of Assisi. As God's chosen who would become God's anointed, the young Francis would feel shame where others had no such self-consciousness. According to our paradigm of shame, what Francis's apparent life form, or way of being in his environment, sought to cover during these early years of his life was his foundational life form. When his "vul-nerability" or "inadequacy" was exposed, that is, his sensitivity to the sufferings of lepers and beggars, he felt shame at the "flaw," which was his deeper felt love of God, becoming visible through the cover of how he presented himself to others. Attuned to His God Francis was twenty-four when he stood in front of the episcopal pal-ace at Santa Maria Maggiore and stripped off his clothes in hot haste and threw them at his father's feet. God had seized him: the sinner faded to give way to the saint. But watching his second naked birth, the crowd fell silent, for this "erstwhile dandy" was seen to be wearing a hair shirt. "It was a hideous penitential device of horsehair for killing the instinct of sensuality and chastising the flesh day and night."23 The peni-tential hair shirt was a symbol for what had been happening for some time in Francis--the transformation from dissonance to consonance with the Eternal, a change from running away from God to running toward God. For our present emphasis, we might remember the words of Francis: "Bernardone is no longer my father," but Our Father who art in heaven. The words indicated his change. For Francis, shame is no longer from having love of God exposed within a life lived as a merchant, but henceforth the shame was in having any failure to love God exposed within a life of excited faith. Now, when Francis embraced the leper, as we quoted above in the words of Francis, "that which seemed bitter to me was changed into sweetness of soul." The contrast is sharp between the experiences of shame for Francis before and after his transformation. Upon encountering the so distaste- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 ful leper, "He slipped off his horse and ran to kiss the man . Filled with wonder and joy, he began devoutly to sing God's praises." He be-gan to render humble service to the lepers and "with great compassion kissed their hands and their mouths." Further, the lover of complete humility went to the lepers and lived with them. He washed their feet, bandaged their ulcers, drew the pus from their wounds and washed out the diseased matter; he even kissed their ulcer-ous wounds out of his remarkable devotion.24 Francis took the bold step of overcoming the conventional perception of what is attractive and what is repulsive by reaching out to love what re-pelled him. And the change in the source of shame was seen in other aspects of his life. When his pre-transformation apparent life form had dominated, Francis's selfish pride would tell him to feel deep humiliat

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 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 28.5 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard. S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW VOR R~Joxous; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63to3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with eccleslastmal appro~ d by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louts Umverslty, the editorial olhces being located at 612 Humboldt Building, 539 North Grand Boulevard, Same Louts, ~dlssouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright t~) 1969by REVIEW roa REt.lmo~s at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mars-land 21202. 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; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money orderpaya-hie to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in LI.S.A currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REview vor~ RELIGIOL$ Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where accom-panied by a remittance, should be sent to REvlF.w vo~ RELInIot~s; 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; 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to R~vmw FOrt RE~.IoIot:s; 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. SEPTEMBER 1969 VOLUME 28 NUMBER 5 JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL, S.J. Some Reflections on the Religious Life It is no secret that today many religious are under-going a painful identity crisis. Participating in the con-fusion that always accompanies dramatic change in cul-tural patterns (complicated by the extreme rapidity of this change in our modern world), religious are further troubled by the problems posed very existentially to them in their effort to obey the call of Vatican II to renew their authentic living of the gospel pattern ac-cording to the original inspiration of their founder and to adapt their way of living to the signs of the times. The breakdown of external structures which in the past had supported their interior commitment, the loss of comforting customs which had provided a kind of.touch-stone of authenticity (however formalized one felt them to be), the disconcerting shift of attitudes toward the place of the religious life within the Church, the value placed upon active insertion into a secularized world, the challenges to faith itself posed by new theological and liturgical languages and symbols--all of these fac-tors together have brought up in' the minds of many religious agonizing questions concerning the value and even the validity of their lives. A basic question that is often repeated is whether it is possible to specifically distinguish religious life from lay life as a Christian. Having grown up in a culture that took it for granted that the religious life was the "way of perfection" and a "higher" or "better" form of Christian living and, perhaps, having included this idea within the complex of personal motives for following the vocation to the religious life, some re-ligious feel lost and without identity in a world where such abstract and tendentious comparisons are no longer significant. Members of various religious congregations wonder whether there is anything really meaningful in their specific vocation. A divisive and potentially death- 'dealing polarization develops in some communities be- John Carroll Futrell, S.J., is a faculty member of St. Louis University Divinity School; 220 North Spring Ave-nue; St. Louis, Mis-souri 63108. VOL~UME 28, 1969 705 + ÷ ÷ ~lohn Carroll Futrell, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tween those who cling for personal survival to old structures of living, praying, and working, and those who are impatient to reject all that has gone before and to embrace all that is new simply because it is new. The following reflections are addressed to only some aspects of these difficult problems. Much time and prayer Will be needed before effective solutions are found to .them. Nevertheless, it is important that religious do reflect upon them and that they share their reflections with one another in an effort to discern what God is asking of us as religious in our own times. What is offered in the following pages, then, are some reflections, firstly, on the meaning of Christian spirituality in it-self-- whether lived by laymen or by religious; then, on the accurate location of the difference between lay life and religious life; and, finally, on the religious life as institutionalized in the Church and on the function of community structures within religious congregations. A Christian is a person whose life in the world derives its meaning from his faith in Jesus Christ encountered in His Church--who discovers in Jesus Christ God re-vealing Himself to man, judging and freeing us by the cross and resurrection of Christ, and sending His Spirit to enable us to share now and forever in the divine life of the Trinitarian community of love. Ad-herence to a creed of truths, following a moral code, commitment to living out certain religious values: all these are consequences of the basic faith experience of the person of Jesus Christ. A person who merely in-tellectually assents to propositions or who merely decides to espouse certain humanitarian values derived from the gospel is not truly a Christian unless these positions are expressions of his commitment in faith to Jesus Christ and of his belief in the good news which Christ proclaimed. When this faith in Jesus Christ is freely and de-cisively assumed as personal commitment by a person (and not merely as a sociological fact of "religion" in his life), this is the result of a personal experience of the person of Jesus Christ. That is to say, the individual recognizes in the divine revelation in Christ, witnessed to by the Apostles and handed down by the Church, the identification of the universal experience of the trans-cendent- the unknown God obscurely encountered in the openness of the human spirit to the mysterious Absolute. In spite of all the various scientific, philo-sophical, psychological, and magical efforts to explain away this experience, it remains real and undeniable in the self-awareness of human beings who have achieved a certain level of consciousness. Indeed, most children seem to have a real experience of God when they are very young. Wordsworth wrote reams of poetry testifying to this. Teilhard de Chardin has written eloquently of the growth of his experience in The Divine Milieu and has pointed out the errors into which men have fallen "in their attempts to place or even to name the uni-versal Smile" (Torch Books, p. 129). Contact with the Other who makes us feel his presence-in-absence in this experience has been the underlying goal of all the great world religions--and of the psychedelic games of today. The Christian is the person who recognizes in Jesus Christ the face of God: "I am in the Father and the Father is in me." Christian faith experience, then, is the consciousness ¯ of recognition: a recognition of the one true God ex-perienced in one's own interior experience of fulfill-ment, of completion, of "coming home" in faith in Jesus Christ; a recognition experienced also in seeing the lives of Christians who embody the word proclaimed by the Church, in the word of Scripture, in the break-ing of the Eucharistic bread, and progressively in one's own experience of new manhood through lived faith. Faith is certitude derived from the authenticity of witness---of signs--and experienced through living it. It is vital to recognize the particular form of certitude had in faith. It is the certitude of experiential experi-ence, the certitude that comes from fully experienced living. This is the highest form of practical certitude enjoyed by human beings, the form of certitude upon which we base our actual living. It has been well said that "theory is good, but it does not excuse you from living." Men do not guide their lives by the coherent symmetry of logical theories but by the practical under-standing that comes from the certitude of lived ex-perience. For example, the only way that I know that another person really loves me is by faith certitude. I cannot "get into the skin of another," cannot share the unique and incommunicable act of self-awareness within which the other freely determines his relation-ships to all that is exterior to himself---including me. My assurance that he does indeed love me can be based only on signs--words, gestures, all the human modes of non-verbal communication, actions of self-giving, and so forth. Yet, I can come to the greatest certitude of his love because of my lived experience of it. The certitude of faith in Jesus Christ, then, is the certitude of lived experience. It is faith--not the knowl-edge derived from empirical experience of the senses or of microscopes or test tubes, not the knowledge result-ing from the logical necessity of a syllogism, but faith + + 4. VOLUME 28, '1969 707 John Futrell, $.]. REV]EW FOR RELIGIOUS in witness and signs authenticated in the living per-sonal experience of God in the person of Jesus Christ risen and living in His Church. The experience of God is always the experience of presence-in-absence, just as is the experience of personal relationship with any person. Because another person is constituted in his selfhood by his unique self-aware-ness, there always remains a new depth of his person to be penetrated, a further horizon of mutual knowledge and love to beckon us onward. The greatest degree of union and love we reach in our mutual presence always opens outwards to a new profundity yet to be sought --the fascinating and wonderful absence discovered in mutual presence which makes personal relationship a dynamic always growing life and not a gtatic, finished work. Our personal relationship with God in prayer is characterized by this same presence-in-absence, this same experienced love and union, this same certitude of something being lived. Indeed, even our self-awareness is marked by presence-in-absence. The only "I" that I am is the self of the present moment summing up all my past history and straining towards my future self-actualization. But I never grasp this present of myself: it slips into my past even as I try to focus upon it. I know the present, my present, only in the lived experieuce of a unique kind of actuality, of plenitude, of density and richness. I know myself with certitude as presence-in-absence. In the lived experience of God as presence-in-absence in prayer, there is a similar plenitude, richness, density, actuality; and in opening ourselves to welcome God in this experience, we are conscious of a profound tran-quillity, peace, calm--a recognition of "rightness," of our authentic, fulfilled selves. It is this primordial ex-perience of peace in absolute openness to God, in total responsiveness to His word, which, is the touchstone of all future discernment of specific response to a specific divine call in a here and now situation. This experi-enced certitude of lived faith is discovered through the authentic testimony of witnesses who embody the word for us, and it is grasped in our own act of faith because of the signs manifested by these witnesses. This certitude grows progressively stronger as we have the living experience of our own faith, until our faith in God in Jesus Christ becomes the greatest certitude of our lives, a certitude daily renewed and accomplished anew everyday, just as is our love of another. On the other hand, it is important to notice the es-sential difference between the experience of personal relations with other human persons and with God in Christ. Another human is bodily present to me and his body mediates his interiority to me. God is not bodily present to me nor is the risen Christ in His human body. I cannot affirm the existence of God as the basis of the experience of his presence-in-absence as I can affirm the existence of another man. Even philosophical demonstrations of the existence of God, while they may be perfectly valid, do not give me God as the object of interior experience. For this reason, even the greatest mystics have always testified that they never felt that their interior experi-ence placed them outside the domain of faith. It is al-ways by faith, which is essentially a divine gift originat-ing from a gracious divine initiative, that we come to realize our experience of God in Christ. The Christian life, then, is a faith--a life of faith. No matter how we analyze the spiritual life according to human scien-tific categories, the object of our experience never leaves the realm of faith. That is why divine revelation in the Bible in no way claims to be a theory of our relations with God. On the contrary, it is the history of this relation which is there taught. And it is fundamental that the origin of our existence and of our reIationship with God is His divine initiative, that the beginning of this history is divine. This fact exactly situates the continuing relationship between God and us: every-thing depends upon His divine initiative. Faith is al-ways a gift. To be a Christian, then, means to live a life grounded in the personal faith experience of God in Jesus Christ. Now, human beings first experience--first live, and only thereafter do they seek to express their experiences and to reflect upon them. It is vital, therefore, to dis-tinguish the lived experience from its expression and from theoretical reflection upon this expression. In the life of the Church, lived Christian experience, the living tradition of the Christ-event as experienced by the community of believers, is primordial. The expressions of this experience at various historical and cultural epochs during the last two thousand years are only temporally conditioned, relative expressions of this ex-perience. The role of theology within the Church is always the re-expression and the re-interpretation of this primordial Christian experience in contemporary language, contemporary conceptual structures, contem-porary cultural contexts. What is essential is always authentically to preserve spiritual continuity across rad-ical cultural discontinuity. Similarly, the faith experience of an individual Chris-tian, beginning with his earliest experiences of God as a child, are necessarily conditioned in their relative expression by the language, the. symbols, the images ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Li]e VOLUME 28, 1969 709 John Carroll REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~10 available to him at a given age and stage of maturity. As he grows humanly and intellectually and rejects the anthropomorphic images of early childhood, such as God the kind grandaddy with a long beard, or the romantic idealizations of adolescence (which were the only modes of expression then available to him), he must not at the same time reject his certitude of the lived experience of God. All the great masters of prayer testify that prayer becomes progressively simpler, more and more leaning upon bare faith, less and less at-tached to a series of concepts or emotions. This is because one is entering more profoundly into the density and richness of God's presence-in-absence, into the lived experience of personal union with God in Christ which is beyond expression and theorizing. There is no greater certitude in life than this lived experience of God. The individual Christian, too, must preserve au-thentic spiritual continuity across the radical discon-tinuity of his language and images and symbols as he grOWS. Now, the Christian, having found the meaning of his life in the world in his faith in Jesus Christ, must live this faith in all the situations of his daily life. He must witness to his faith by a Christian style of life, a Christian spirituality. This is always true of all Chris-tians, even though the concrete expressions of this life style are relative to the historical and cultural context and the concrete situations within which Christianity is being lived. The essential elements of Christian spirituality are always the same: living out Christ's great command-ment of love according ~o the general norms He enunci-ated in the Beatitudes and exemplified in His life. How-ever, these essential elements will be expressed in different ways discerned by prophetically interpreting ex-istential situations, that is to say, by prayerfully reflect-ing upon the challenges posed by the signs of the times in the light of the gospel, in order to recognize and respond to God's word here and now. It is through listening to the world--the existential word of God--- and at the same time listening to the Spirit--the pro-phetic word of God in Christ in the Church and in the individual Christian--that through a continuing dia-lectic the Christian discerns how to live his Christian faith here and now. He confirms the validity of the decision arrived at through this discernment by com-paring his inner experience of peace and tranquillity in this specific choice with the peace and tranquillity enjoyed in his primordial experience of openness and surrender to God in Christ. All Christians are called to this essential Christian spirituality. In living their discerned life style, all Chris-tians must witness to both the incarnational and the eschatological aspects of the Christ life which animates the Church: the presence of the Spirit of the risen Christ in His Church renewing tile earth by unifying mankind and transforming the universe--building the earth to its fulfillment in Christ-Pleroma; and also the Christian hope in Christ who is to come in the final accomplish-ment of the kingdom of God in the Parousia. All Chris-tians must express the "cosmological" love of God im-manent in the ongoing new creation accomplished by the Spirit of Christ through the efforts of men in the history of the world; and all must express the "trans-cendent" love of God the absolute future of man--the Father who is known only in Christ, the Trinitarian community of love which will be shared perfectly by men in their union with one another and with the Father in Christ through the Spirit when Christ comes again. The manner in which individual Christians are to express ,this twofold Christian love is discerned in the here and now situation of their own historical and cultural context. This individual expression takes place within the community of Christians and is grounded in the initiative that comes from God: different gifts, dif-ferent charisms, different divine initiatives, different calls--all for the service of the entire People of God, all ordered to the community expression of the Christ life in the world and to the embodiment of the two aspects of Christian love. II Essentially, then, there is only one Christian spirit-ualitv, always aimed at the full possession of all men b~ tl~e Father through Christ in the Spirit. This is true because there is only one essential Christian vision of the meaning of life in the world, a vision based upon the faith experience of God revealing Himself to men in Christ through the Spirit living in the Church. The differences in the manner of living out this one spirituality originate in the various expressions of this spirituality determined by historical and cultural con-texts and, also, in the different charisms given by the Holy Spirit to individual Christians to enable them to serve the Church in specific ways. The distinctive func-tions within the Church of bishops, priests, religious, and laymen are grounded in these different charisms. The distinctive styles of life or spiritualities observable in the lives of married persons and religious are simply distinctive ways of living the one Christian spirituality ÷ VOLUME 28, 1969 ~ohn Carroll ~ Futrell, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS which must he fully expressed by the whole Church as a community. For instance, an essential element in the one spirit-uality of all Christians is evangelical poverty in its root meaning of an attitude (a beatitudel) of anawim: aware-ness of man's dependence upon God in Christ resulting in single-hearted seeking of God and issuing in acts of peacemaking and of mercy towards others. This attitude must be embodied by all Christians in lives showing forth the two-fold incarnational and eschato-logical Christian love. Living as anawim according to the Beatitudes, all Christians often will discern the call to acts of renunciation of real human values in order to be true to their faith in Christ; and these actions will witness not only to their faith in the risen Christ present in the Church and renewing creation here and now, but also to their eternal hope in Him who is to come in the final fulfillment of the kingdom--their existen-tial acknowledgment of God as the absolute future of man in Christ. The vowed evangelical poverty and chastity and obedience of Christians who are called to the religious life, then, is not the only way to practice or to express the eschatological aspect of Christian love. Neverthe-less, the life of the vows is the only way to manifest this aspect through the signification of an entire life to bear permanent, visible witness to it in the world. Any Christian living out his Christianity authentically .is called upon in many ways to renounce various goods and values in order to take up his cross and follow Jesus. Think of men and women who in order to fulfill their vocation in the sacrament of marriage or as parents or as truly just and loving neighbors to other men are challenged to sacrifice desirable goods and values for the sake of fidelity to Christ in their daily lives. Never-theless, the overall, visible style of li[e of the l~y Christian in its permanent life pattern manifests above all the aspect of Christian love in the Church which is to work in the world in order to transform it in Christ, continuing the incarnation of Christ by building the earth. Although this Christian lay life includes and, when necessary, expresses the eschatological aspect of the Church, it shows forth in its basic dynamism the in-carnational aspect. On the .other hand, a religious in his actual work of serving the Church normally is equally engaged in the ,work of building up Christ in mankind and in the world. He too lives and expresses the incarnational as-pect to the Church. But by the public foregoing of the 'high, positive, human values renounced through his vows, the total meaning of the being-in-the-world of the religious becomes the tangible insertion into this incarnational dynamism of the eschatological aspect which is visibly manifested through the overall, perma-nent pattern of life according to the evangelical coun-sels. To make permanently visible to men this eschato-logical dimension of the Church is the specific meaning of the religious life as a distinctive way of living Christianity. As Karl Rahner has pointed out, that which con-stitutes the unique signification of the vowed evangelical counsels in the religious life is that this is the perma-nent foregoing of high, positive, human values for the sake of a value which cannot be the object of a direct experience, a value which necessarily must be believed in and hoped [or. By their vows religious abandon a possible experience in favor of a value that is now possessed only in faith and hope. That is to say, it is possible for me to have the experience of possessing the results of my work, of having a wife and children, of exercising my own autonomy of choice; but I possess the value of the fulfillment of the kingdom now only in my faith and hope in Christ who is to come. The re-nunciation of the vows is a visible manifestation of permanent and absolute openness to God's future for man in Christ. This renunciation, therefore, is the visible expression and the continual realization of love for God much more in the eschatological dimension of this love than in its terrestrial or incarnational dimen-sion. Even the unbeliever must recognize the meaning of a gesture of faith and hope and love which is the perma-nent renunciation of these positive human, values through the vows. For example, a man in vowing chas-tity "puts his body on the line" until death because of his faith and hope and love of Christ who is to come, and thereby he visibly witnesses in a most striking way to this faith and hope and love. One can believe that this faith and hope and love is absurd, but one cannot deny its depth in the People of God among whom it can call forth such a visible testimony. All Christians, then,--religious and lay--must live both incarnational and eschatological love. But the over-all pattern and significance of the Christian lay vocation is visible witness to the incarnational aspect of the Church, while the overall pattern and significance of the religious life of the vowed evangelical counsels is visible witness to the eschatological aspect. The distinction between lay life and religious life in the Church, therefore, is not to be sought in a difference of the basic Christian vision o~ of the essential Christian spirituality. The distinction is. to be sought, 4. VOLUME 28a 1969 ÷ John Carroll Futrell, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS rather, in the variety of charisms and the different modes of response to the divine initiative. The difference arises from distinctive ways of living the one Christian life, that is, particular ways of responding to and of ex-pressing the love of God through following Christ within a permanent life pattern having a specifically different, total, overall signification than do other particular ways of living Christianity. Whatever might be concluded through theoretical discussions based upon various hier-archical models, there can be no question in the real order of one Christian way of life being "higher" or "better" than another. It is a question rather of a charism, of the divine initiative and authentic response to it which can only be the "best" for the individual person responding to God's call to him. III A community of persons has a history, just as does an individual person. In the history of the community of Christian believers, the Church, there has been from the beginning an evolution of "structured" charisms, dis-cerned by the community as authentic responses to the divine initiative for service of the People of God. These structured charisms have been lived by groups of in-dividuals who have been given these charisms, organiz-ing themselves into institutionalized communities for service of the Church through lives devoted primarily either to prayer, to spiritual or corporal works of mercy, or to apostolic mission. In this way, the religious life developed as a distinctive, institutionalized way of liv-ing Christianity, eventually having its own juridical description in canon law. From the groups congregat-ing around St. Antony in the desert to the official recognition of secular institutes in 1948, this evolution has continued (as it still does) in the response of Chris-tians to divine initiatives within diverse historical and cultural contexts. A Christian who discerns that he has been given the charism of service of the Church in the religious life enters into the institutional structure of this charism by public, vowed commitment to the three evangelical counsels, declared to the whole People of God repre-sented by the one who in the name of the Church re-ceives the vows. By so doing, this Christian establishes himself in a permanent, distinctive life style which has a special and unique force as a sign of one aspect of the one spirituality of the entire Christian commu-nity. His response to the divine initiative is, therefore, his acceptance of the charism of his vocation. The personal experience of Jesus Christ is the basis of all Christian faith. When this experience is char- acterized by certain qualities, the result is that one is simply impelled to give his whole life and all his love to Jesus Christ through living the vowed evangelical counsels. Depending upon certain other characteristics of this personal experience of Jesus Ctirist, one feels simply impelled to consecrate all his life and energy to prayer for the People of God in the contemplative life or to their active service and to helping other persons to share this faith experience of Jesus Christ through apostolic mission. This Christian's whole life as a re-ligious is grounded in this faith experience; and it depends for its growth and depth and permanence upon the growth and depth and permanence of his personal relationship to Jesus Christ in love. The original charism must come to its complete fulfillment. The individual choice to live the religious life in one specific religious community rather than another is the result of the judgment that one's own response to the divine initiative discerned in the charism of his vocation can be best embodied in this specific community voca-tion. He discovers his personal identity as a Christian person precisely in the community identity of this re-ligious order or congregation. The community identity of a given religious congre-gation is rooted in the original inspiration of the founder(s), the basic vision of a particular way of follow-ing Christ, which underlies all the different techniques devised to try to live out this vision within different historical and cultural contexts. Where, as in many apostolic congregations, the basic vision of various com-mumtles as similar or even identical, the specific differ-ence of these congregations arises from their particular approach to service or mission and from the history of each congregation in living out the basic vision. The history of an institution progressively charac-terizes this institution in its identity, just as the personal history of a man characterizes his identity. A man of forty carries with him the accumulated characteristics oflhis own personal evolution. His face and body and psychology are marked by specific traits by which he identifies himself to himself and by which other people identify him. This is equally true of different religious congregations. That which is essential today, then, in order to ac-complish authentic renewal of religious congregations is to truly discover the original inspiration of the founder, the basic vision, the radical intention neces-sarily expressed by the founder in the language (images, symbols, gestures, practices, ways of action) of his own historical and cultural context. 0nly when this basic vision is clear is it possible to discern how to express it ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Li~e VOLUME 28~ 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ John Carroll Futrell, S.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS authentically in the new language imposed upon us by the signs of our times: to preserve spiritual con-tinuity across cultural discontinuity. Furthermore, since there is no infallible guarantee of the permanent worth of this basic vision, and since charisms can be given for time-conditioned service of the People of God, it must be discerned whether or not the basic vision and, so, the existence of a given religious congregation is still valid and valuable in the ongoing life of the Church. When it is discerned that a religious congregation can still make a real contribution to the life and mission of the Church, then courageous and loyal adaptation of life style must be undertaken in order to renew the true embodiment of the basic vision of this community here and now. Whatever means are discerned to be authentic and effective for this end, these will have to be structured into the life of the community. The com-munity is made up of individual body-persons who find their own personal identity in the community identity. Their mutual union in this community of persons is grounded in this profound identification of life meaning which they share with one another. Unless this profound union is embodied in some really ex-perienced way in common worship, common ways of living, common service of the Church, it is inevitable that it will float off into the realm of pure abstract theory, an ideal existing only as a dream. During a time of dramatic cultural change such as we are now experiencing, it is clear that there must be much experimentation with community structures, al-ways discerned according to the criterion of the re-newed basic vision of the community. Indeed, at present the indications are that much pluralism must be al-lowed. But especially during a time of pluralistic ex-periments, ways must be found to embody the total unity of the entire community sufficiently and frequently enough to keep it real. This is absolutely imposed upon us because we are body-persons, a fact too often forgotten with disastrous results. The fundamental problem posed by the necessity of embodying community unity through some form of structures is the continual need to carry on the dialectic of the individual good and the common good, personal initiative and aspirations and community ideals and commitments. The aim should be to effect a synthesis of these personal and community elements as often as possible through true mutual discernment. But when such a synthesis proves impossible, after this discern-ment, it is the universal good of the community which must be given priority in making decisions, precisely because the personal identity of each individual member is found in the community identity. In any community, even that of two persons in marriage, there is a new reality larger than each individual 'T': it is the reality of "we." The final word must always be given to this Because of the depth of their union grounded in common personal identity, the persons belonging to a religious community have a unique foundation for true, warm, human mutual love. This love must be experi-enced and embodied in aII the ways that go to establish and develop human interpersonal relationships and to confronting difficulties of temperament, disagreement, misunderstanding, and so forth. Since this union is the result of divinely given charisms, every effort must be made to share the basic faith experience of Jesus Christ which is the source of the communion of persons in this religious community. Because the individual experience itself is not verbal but lived, this sharing must be chiefly on the level of non-verbal communication. Here communitarian prayer can be very effective. Listening to another praying to God, even in language that I myself couhl not use, is a most effective way to come to the recognition that he shares the same faith experience of Jesus Christ, the same charism, the same response of life commitment, as do I. If the members of a religious community do share the basic faith experience of Jesus Christ which grounds their unity and their life together, then they will be enabled to grow in true human love for one another. Where there is profound union and an atmosphere of mutual love, it is possible to disagree (even violently) about means to ends without becoming polarized and, finally, disunited and destroyed as a community. Dif-ferences will be seen for what they are: differences of language and symbols which are conditioned by cultural contexts and, so, are completely relative, deriving their value only from their effectiveness in embodying the basic vision which remains the ground of union. Where deep union and mutual love are present, it will be recognized that persons in the community in responding to community-discerned adaptations are not to be condemned if they find it difficult to adjust to what for them is a new and foreign language to express their personal identity issuing from their personal faith experience of Jesus Christ. This is a matter of the dif-ficulty of changing ways of structuring and of expressing experience which have been built up over a lifetime, rather than a matter of a negative attitude to renewal and adaptation. The only attitude that one must change (whether he be "traditionally" or "progressively" oriented) is that 4. Religious Li~e VOLUME 28~ 1969 4" 4" ÷ John Carroll Futrell, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS o[ fixation: confusing language with experience and means with ends and insisting that unless things are done my way, they cannot be authentically Christian. This is equivalent to saying: "If you speak French in-stead of American English, you cannot be expressing truly human thoughts and feelings." Redemption from fixation--and from polarization--will be achieved through sharing the faith experience of Jesus Christ and only thereafter attempting to find a language to express this experience. These reflections have led to the conclusion that the religious has his personal identity through his response to a particular divine initiative, his acceptance of a special charism discerned in the characteristics of his personal faith experience of Jesus Christ. The religious embodies his response to this charism by vowing himself to the life of the evangelical counsels in a specific re-ligious community. This means that he commits him-self to witness visibly by the total signification of his overall pattern of life to the eschatological aspect of Christian love lived in the Church. Within the community of Christians, all of whom ~hare one Christian spirituality, the distinctive role of the religious is permanently to manifest the faith and hope of the entire People of God in Christ who is to COmae. The religious' life of union with his companions in his own religious community is a life of mutual love grounded in the community identity of shared faith experience of Christ, which is expressed in the basic vision of this community's service of Christ in His Church, and which is embodied in community struc-tures adapted to the signs of the times through authentic discernment. The way towards a solution of the difficult problems being experienced by religious today, therefore, would seem above all to be the way of a universal renewal in all religious of their profound, personal faith experi-ence of Jesus Christ and a renewal of their mutual union and mutual love through mutually sharing this experience. It is through union with Jesus Christ that we shall achieve communion with one another. EDWARD G. BOZZO, C.F.X. Being-toward- Community:. Essence oJ Religious Life As the over-delayed Instruction (dated Jan. 6, 1969) from the Congregation of Religious concedes, the forma-tion of young religious is a topic of deep concern today. Leaving to others the full assessment of that ,uneven document which, in my view, hovers indecisively between old and new theologies, between an essentially juridical conception of religious life and some attempt to touch its theological pith, what I would urge is that religious life is dominantly about community and that this must be sustained as the master idea in considering every phase of its renewal. Though this is a simplification un-less qualified as I hope to do further on in this article, it is at present the hermeneutical wedge needed to cut through the complexities renewal involves. If, I submit, in the light of the recent Instruction, religious congrega-tions attempt to grapple with formation as a problem apart from the religious life as centrally concerned with creating and maintaining community, their adaptations of formation programs will be misfocused or foundering. As is evident from my intentional use of first person references, I present a personal (though I hope not un-substantiated) point of view as forcefully as I can. In doing so I make no claim to infallibility but hope that in presenting a position as vigorously as possible that I might at the very least provide the reader with a means of clarifying his own notions of the religious life, even if it be by disagreeing with those presented here. Though my topic is the general import of the idea that religious life is essentially the sustained effort toward community, let me begin by briefly stating the connection between this thesis and the specific question of the forma-tion of young religious. And let me begin this brief Edward Bozzo, C.F.X., is a mem-ber of Xaverian College; I0000 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Springs, Md. 2090~1. VOLUME 28, 1969 + 4. Edward G. Bozzo, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS treatment from the juridical aspect of the religious life --a perhaps more familiar starting point to middle-aged religious--that irrelevant species of which I am a member. Two other prenotes: I write as a member of what is usually called an active religious congregation and I beg pardon of any sister who might read this for main-taining masculine references throughout. Men become religious, in the technical sense, by pro-nouncing vows to God through His visible Church. These vows are called public in a technical sense, namely, that the Church so designates and recognizes them as con-stituting a person in the religious state. To describe how these spare juridical facts occur in actual life, how-ever, it would have to be added that a person becomes a religious by joining a specific religious institute approved by the Church. This datum is [taught with significance. Among other things, it means that one's chief source of awareness of what being a religious means comes ~rom the particular religious with whom he lives. One's idea of what the practice of the vows means, of the style of life to which they give rise, one's idea of life in common and dedicated service to others--all of these one learns from the religious with whom one lives. (;anon law and the institute's constitutions, no matter how well expressed, capture these realities only partially and in bare out-line. I Both are theoretical instruments which subserve the experience of religious life which latter holds the primacy, not vice versa.2 Since one's self-definition as a religious, for one's whole life as a religious, has its source in the lives of the reli-gious with whom one lives, it follows that our life in 1 See Friedrich Wulf, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life," in Commentary on the Documents o[ Vatican II, v. 2, ed. Herbert Vorgrimler (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968), p. 303, where Wulf notes that it will take religious congrega-tions a long time to overcome the narrowness which has plagued the official ecclesiastical concept of the religious life, especially since the 19th century. See also pp. 338, 340, and 362. ~ In philosophical terms, though we always need theory, it is ex-perience, the practical, which holds the primacy. Theory derives from practice and serves practice. To reverse this order is to create a host of difficulties in daily life. See John Macmurray, The Sel[ as .4gent (London: Faber and Faber, 1957), pp. 17ft. As regards religious life, it is necessary to recall not only that theory derives from experience and helps to interpret experience, but also that the theoretical apparatus has been overjuridical in its emphasis. Hence, even though theory is subservient to experience, now as never before, religious life requires work on its theoretical base. As Wulf remarks in commenting on chapters five and six of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church: "The theology of the reli-gious state is only in the making," Commentary on the Documents o] Vatican //, v. 1, ed. Herbert Vorgrimler (New York: Herder and Herder, 1967), p. 278. See Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. $43: "Religious life today, that of active orders in particular, is becoming less and less amenable to detailed regulation." common is and ever remains the formative influence in our lives. Religious life does not escape the law of our lives as persons: we need one another to be ourselves,s Indeed, religious life aims to express this with a force un-paralleled by other styles of life.4 Whether or not they really believe it, at least many religious are now saying that religious formation never ends. The principal reason why it does not is that we ever depend on our fellow religious for discovering the implications of our lives as persons dedicated to God.5 The practical consequence of these facts for our con-gregations is that each one of us, whether he acknowl-edges the fact or prefers to dwell in illusion, plays a form-ative role. He cannot shirk this fact, nor the obligation arising from it by pretending that it is the novice master's job or the task of a group or team more particularly associated with young religious. For all of us formation is continual so long as we lead lives of mutual interde-pendence-- a phrase which describes our very condition as persons, and therefore our lives as religious as well. Under either head, life in common is essential. From the point of view of formation, personal and religious, our lives of mutual interdependence constitute our chief source of strength and progress, as well as the source of our obligation to live for our fellows. It scarcely needs mentioning that this mode of dis-course is currently employed to talk of Christian life in general and that there is nothing particularly distinctive about it so as to mark off religious as a spedal class,o That 8 See John Macmurray, Persons in Relation (London: Faber and Faber, 1961), p. 211. ' "The theological and spiritual new mentality which the council introduced into the religious orders has forced us to pose anew the question about the structures of religious life. To begin with we must mention the fundamental law which was present at the founding of every religious order, and which has moved into the forefront of Christian thought today in a specially urgent manner: the law of brotherliness" (Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 330). ~ Obviously this does not preclude a religious learning from those not members of the religious fraternity. See Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 339: "Common prayer, spiritual conversation among brethren and sisters--things which in fact make them brethren and sisters-- alone cause all of their efforts to bear fruit. The place where spiritual renewal happens is in the small group. The more a com-munity fosters these small groups, the greater the hope that the work of the general chapter will go beyond mere words and regula-tions, and reach out into real life." e Commenting on Chapter 5 of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Wulf, in Vorgrimler, v. 1, pp, 267-8, writes: "We are all set a single goal, one and the same Christian holiness (the degree of which., can and does vary according, to the vocation and the measure of grace allotted to each man). Ultimately, there-fore, there is only one kind of Christian life, and its nature is briefly sketched for us here: (1) The inward road that leads a Christian to his salvation (and often the outward road as well) + + .I-Being- toward. Community VOLUME 28, 1969 + ÷ ÷ Edward G. Bozzo, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS should not be surprising, since the religious life is not .a. privileged class existence, but the Christian life lived with utter seriousness. It has been the custom to define religious life in terms of Christian life. Hence, when individualistic notions of Christian life prevailed, reli-gious life--Christian calling lived intensely--was defined in individualistic patterns. When the dominant con-ception of Christian life was saving one's soul, the concomitant conception of religious life was a perfec-tion that made little of the social dimension of personal and Christian progress.7 Thanks to a host of long germinating movements in the field of theology itself (Biblical studies, for example) and in the world of thought more generally (most signifi-cantly in philosophy), individualism is seen now as an unrealistic way of conceptualizing personal existence,s As persons we do not possess any fullness of ourselves alone. We do not store up richness of interiority on our own and then issue forth to bestow our largesse upon others if and when we feel magnanimous enough to do depends at the deepest level on the guidance of the Holy Ghost and the promptings of his grace. (2) At every turn, therefore, in every situation he encounters, the Christiau must listen for the voice of the Spirit making known God's will for him., and obey it. This obedience is what the gospel calls adoring the Father in spirit and in truth (cf. Jn 4:23), and it means utter openness to God and utter docility to him. (3) Within the framework of the Christian dis-pensation taking this road means following the poor and humble Christ as he carries the Cross. (4) On this road the main business of the Christian is a living faith that stirs up hope and acts through love. At a time when every state of life and every community in the Church is trying to expound its own particular spirituality (and often ineptly), it is well for this Constitution to remind us of the one fundamental Christian spirituality of Scripture and tradition." Further: "What they all have in common is this: that Christian sanctification is not a road running parallel to the road of one's ordiuary life and work, but is a thing achieved in and through one's state of life with its daily tasks, in and through the concrete circumstances and events of one's existence." ~See Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 347, n. 11 especially. As Rahner writes: "This sense of being responsible for my brother, not only for his earthly needs but precisely for his eternal salvation, may be nothing short of decisive for my own eternal salvation. This is not sublime egoism. The realization that unless one loves selflessly one is risking one's own salvatiou does not imply some higher form of egoism. It is the scale by which I can measure how absolutely necessary is concern for my brother's salvation. The possibility that he has of working out his salvation without me means that he owes me nothing. But I can find myself only if I find my brother. The whole of life has got to be a forward movement towards loving my brother. I must love my brother, and in that love forget myself. If I do that, I am an apostle. If I do not do it, I am ultimately lost" (Karl Rahner, Christian in the Market Place [New York: Sheed and Ward, 1966], pp. 13-4). ~ See William F. Lynch, Images o] Hope (New York: New Ameri-can Library, 1966), p. 185. so.0 Hard as it may be for men, especially Americans, to swallow it, no one in his existence as a person exists in-dependently of other persons.10 The terminus a quo of personal life is a complete dependence on a personal other and the terminus acl quem is not rugged individ-ualism but interdependence with others.11 Personal exis-tence is and ever remains conditional upon mutuality with other persons. Failure to live according to this basic norm of our being is, in William F. Lynch's view, one of the root causes of mental illness. In religious terms it is Pelagianism. As Biblical studies have made apparent with ever increasing emphasis and as the recent conciliar documents attest, God calls us as He did Israel, as a people; He saves us as a people; .we worship Him as a people. In short, Christianity is fraternal faith, demon-strated in fraternal concern for others, Christians or not, for Christian faith is a progressive assimilation to the Father's only Son who is universal in His concern--in His life, His death and His eternal priestly intercession in behalf of all men.12 In yielding to the Spirit, in allowing Him to consume our selfishness, we are made Jesus all over againJ~ In him all walls of separation from our fel-lows crumble (see Gal 2:llff). With the growing appreciation that Christian life is a OAs Kwant writes: "We are intentional beings and not centered on ourselves. We achieve a meaningful existence through the reali-zation of values. The situation is not such that we find first in ourselves, in our so-called interiority, the fullness of meaning and value and that, next, our giving of meaning in the world and in encounters with other human beings are an effusion of our interior fullness. Divorced from the world and from the others, there is only emptiness in ourselves" (Remy Kwant, Phenomenology o] Social Existence [Pittsburgh: Duquesne University, 1965], p. 239). ~°See Lynch, lmages, pp. 19-20 and 31. n See John Macmurray, Persons in Relation, p. 66. = "The first characteristic of faith today I should like to stress can be summed up in one word: brotherly . Faith both presup-poses the community and creates it; the courage to believe is always born of a pentecostal event, where many are gathered together in unity of purpose. Faith is our confidence in the personal experience of others, a conviction gained through the power of the Spirit which is at work in others, our personal experience of the Spirit given to us for the sake of others, This permanent characteristic of faith., should be one of the most notable characteristics of the form of faith today. It cannot be sufficiently stressed, however, that this brotherly love is not directed towards an abstract but toward our actual brother here and now, our 'neighbor' " (Karl Rahner, Belie] Today [New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967], pp. 54-5). as See Barnabas Ahern, New Horizons (Notre Dame: Fides Dome Book, 1965), p. 94 and passim; Piet Fransen, "Towards a Psychology of Divine Grace," Cross Currents, v. 8 (1958), p. 219; Franqois ¯ Roustang, Growth in the Spirit (New York: Sheed ~ Ward, 1966), p. 21; and Amed~e Hallier, "God is Friendship: the Key to Aelred of Rievaulx's Christian Humanism," American Benedictine Reoiew, v. 18 (1967), p. 403. 4- 4. 4- Being-toward- Community VOLUME 28, 1969 723 ÷ + Edward G. Bozzo, C.F~X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS call to brotherly faith, brotherly existence and care, there is a concommitant realization that religious life as the radical living of Christian life is predominantly brotherly existence. Insofar as religious life manifests this, its fundamental nature, it renders its primary serv-ice to both Church and world. This conception of the nature and function of religious life holds implications of highly practical import. The following paragraphs aim to explore some of them by attending primarily to the intramural living of religious life. As stated previously in touching on "formation," all religious must appreciate that each of them is involved in striving toward community. Recognizing this, one practical suggestion that has been proffered with increas-ing insistence is that religious cannot attain this by living in large groups in Mussolini-modern buildings.14 With-out disputing this recommendation, I submit that the import of religious life as fraternal existence in Christ lies deeper than the intimacy to be attained by living in smaller groups in cosier houses. Keeping the communal nature of reigious life to the fore means realizing that no religious can achieve "his perfection," his union with Christ, by an idealistic leap up to God which would ignore his concrete relations to his fellow religious. Each of us approaches God only by living for his particular brethren at hand, centering his interest in them and not in himself. To live this is to live in Christ; more specifi-cally, it is to live Christ's kenosis. Capsulizing St. Paul's view of Christian life again, one may see it as a progres-sive yielding to the Holy Spirit who transforms us into the image of the Father's only Son. And this Son is one who lives His whole existence towards the Father through a self-forgetful concern for all men. In sum, the Christ in whom we live, move, and are, the Christ into whom we are transformed through the Holy Spirit's action in us, is a self-emptying Christ, not a self-regarding Person.1'~ Selfishness in this perspective is not just per-sonal immaturity, it is--far more significantly--a resis-tance to grace, a refusal to let the Spirit take over in us so that the Christs we are meant to be cannot take form in our lives. The poverty, chastity, and obedience of the religious find their deepest meaning in this kenotic yielding to the 1~ In commenting on Vatican II's decree on religious, for example, Wulf (in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 330) writes: 'The responsible and effec-tive participation in the common good and in the common task in the spirit of brotherhood can no longer be realized in large communities, for by his psychical constitution, modern man feels lost and threatened in the mass, so that the ideals just mentioned can only be realized in communities of manageable size." 1~ See Piet Schoonenberg, "He Emptied Himself, Philippians 2, 7," in Who Is Jesus oI Nazareth? (New York: Paulist, 1965), pp. 47-66. Spirit, manifested inour heterocentricity toward others. These two cannot be separated, for a relationship to Christ, or to God in Christ, which is not a relationship to one's brothers, is no Christianity at all. The more earnestly a religious strives to live the Christian life, that is, to live as man sanctified by God, the more he becomes aware of his own poverty his impotence, weakness, and guilt and the more he realizes the totality of the de-pendence in which he lives from God and unto God-- the essence of what he professes in the vow of poverty. The more a religious strives to live as the force of God's agape in him would have him live, that is, the more uni-versal his love toward others becomes both in its scope and quality the more his chastity comes to expression. For then he loves as God loves, caring for others hon-estly, 16 with no eye to using them for his advantage but with a creative love that aims to set others free of the myriad forms of slavery which keep them from the liberty to which they are called. This honesty in love-- loving others as the Father loves, with no eye to private gain is the essence of religious chastity. The more the religious yields to God's beckonings to him, the more he follows the particularities of God's petitioning of him through others---even to the point of yielding his life for them, the more the relig!ous lives obedience to the Father. The depth of asceticism that is required to live this style of Christian existence, the depth of personal prayer required to maintain and nourish this kenotic orienta-tion needs no commentary. It involves many dyings be-fore death, surrendering the comfortable illusion that each of us is a special case, that life and other people should make exceptions in our regard. It means living Christ's life of service and in so doing becoming a vehicle through which the glory of the risen Christ is manifested. As Ratzinger writes: "A true parousia of Christ takes place wherever a man recognizes and affirms the claim on his love that goes out from a fellow man in need." lz Much more could and should be ex- 1BChastity is emotional sincerity. See John Macmurray, "The Virtue of Chastity," in Reason and Emotion (London: Faber and Faber, 1962), pp. l17ff. x7 Joseph Ratzinger, The Open Circle: The Meaning o] Christian Brotherhood (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1966), p. 119. The glory of the Father is the brotherhood of all men in his Son Jesus Christ. Our life as a community and as individuals, serving one another and others, must make the name of the Father known, manifest His glory by seeking the brotherhood of all men in Christ Jesus. But the source of this, it cannot be sufficiently emphasized, is God's love for us---this is what makes us persons fundamentally. What we have to give is God's love (see the Epistle to the Philippians). At this profound level the operative law is: All receptivity is produc-tivity, as SOren Kierkegaard notes in SOren Kierkegaard's Journals + + + Being.toward- Commu~nity VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ 4. ÷ Edward G. Bo~o, C.F~X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS plored regarding the linkage between religious life and kenotic Christology as this constitutes a promising vein for elaborating a theology of the religious life. However, the few hints offered will have to suffice for the moment, so as to attend to other implications of conceiving reli-gious life as a process of being toward community. One of these is that religious life as brotherly existence does not mean that the uniqueness of each religious is abolished. Quite the contrary. As Teilhard de Chardin was fond of phrasing it, true union differentiates,is That is, when we put into act by living communion with others the mutuality which makes us persons, each of us comes to himself. Each attains, at least in some measure, his freedom. The fundamental reason for this is that in friendship, fellowship, fear is eliminated or overcome by love. None of the parties in the fellowship has to pretend, act a part, be on his guard. For this to become a fact in a religious community all must share the intention to live as brothers. All must overcome fear of each other with trust. For fear paralyzes and separates us. Since fear is always fear for oneself in the face of others, it closes us in on ourselves, drives us away from exercising our constitutively mutual relationship to them. Fearful of others, I might seek for God, for free-dom, or more simply, for some sense of contentment not in my relations to others but solely in the life of the mind and imagination--solely in a private spirituality. Others might deal with their fear of their fellow by dominating them, using them as means to their purpose-- even if that purpose be "spiritual" it demeans the persons so manipulated. For fellowship, community, to become an actuality each must be positively motivated toward all his brothers. Consequently it cannot happen if a religious seeks friend-ship with only one or two other members alone, and when each of the parties in this relationship or clique is negatively motived toward all the other members. The trust of each member of the community, his faith in them, must extend toward all of them. Only so can true brotherhood become fact. To the extent that it does, each member can, for example, express his ideas without fear that what he says will be used against him. By the very nature of brotherhood, variety issues naturally-- from the assurance of feeling at home in one's reli-gious family. One does not have to strive after artifical techniques to assert his individuality. He is accepted and and Papers, v. 1, ed. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Indiana University, 1967), p. 395. ~See Robert L. Faricy, Teilhard de Chardin's Theology o[ the Christian in the World (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967), pp. does not need to contrive test cases to discover if he is or not. More significantly, in the context of realized brother-hood ideas do not divide us. I know that even if you do not agree with my position on this or that issue that you will not cut me off--excommunicate me from your con-cern. And you have the same assurance from me. When each member of the community feels secure in this confidence our differences, whether in the realm of ideas or otherwise, are a potential source of enrichment for all of us. We are free to work out fruitful constructive forms of compromise to further corporate action. Every dif-ference between us does not become a wall of separation dividing brother from brother, camp from camp. Such division is our damnation. The future is in our hands only so long as we live as brothers. We cannot achieve any good as a congregation, or as a small community within it, if we do not share the same intention in our apostolic action. Just as we are mutually interdependent as persons, we are inter-dependent as agents. If as agents our intentions do not harmonize, the action of each of .us is frustrated. The future then becomes something that happens to us, some-thing which we await, rather than a reality which we as agents are empowered to determine and can determine when our intentions harmonize and agree with God's intention--that we as religious be one and through our work (directly or indirectly) work for the realization of brotherhood among all men. In this light religious life can be appreciated as the concrete expression of what the Church is. It is the fra-ternity of God's people, His family which lives a broth-erly existence under Him and by so living is the instru-ment for expressing and extending brotherhood among all mankind. The creative energy for realizing this broth-erhood is the agape of the Father Himself operating through the common humanity which each of us shares with every other person.10 The task of the Church today is what it always has been--to cooperate with God under the guidance of the Spirit of Christ in establishing the kingdom of God. The means for establishing this king-dom, for accomplishing this task is the means that Jesus taught His first Disdples. The Church must be a real community on earth which exhibits to the world, in its life and in the relations of its members, the image of the kingdom of heaven, and which acts, in relation to the world outside, in the brotherly spirit of that king-dom. Never has the Church needed religious life to mani-fest this, its nature at its truest, as now. And never have 4. 4. Being-toward- Community 1, See Yves Congar, .4 Gospel Priesthood (New York: Herder aVnOdLUME 28, 1969 Herder, 1967), p. 5, on the Father's love as the source of all mission. 727 men so expressly proclaimed in myriad ways, their thirst for brotherhood. If religious life would only come to itself it could spearhead the realization of brotherhood--- the consummation of personal existence now so devoutly wished. It depends on so little and so big a condition as this: that each of us in his religious family treat each of the others as a friend. 4. 4- 4- Edward G. Bo~,o, REVIEW FOR RELIGIous 728 HRBAN NAAL, S.M. The Community of Today Walls are built either to keep people in or to keep people out. Whether these walls are built of stone, brick, or concrete or whether they are built of weaker material, the object is to keep someone or something in or to keep someone or something out, physically. There are also pyschological walls built for the same purpose, though not always built intentionally. In the Middle Ages cities had walls. Most of these walls are in ruins today or have disappeared as the cities expanded beyond them. In fact, expansion could take place only when the people went beyond the walls. It seemed that as man neared modern times the walls crumbled, "freeing" the community to expand in all directions. It would seem that one could almost say that the walls had to come down if expansion were to take place, for the walls that kept out also kept in. Any com-munity that held rigidly to its walls would of necessity suffocate. Growth took place as the walls came down aIIowing for greater activity, travel, business, communica-tion, work, education. Modern communities no longer have walls. They are neither needed nor desired. Yet, there seems to exist today in the modem world communities whose walls have remained intact since the Middle Ages and who seem rigidly to resist any attempt to break down those walls, whether physical or psycho-logical. The citizens seem determined to hold onto those walls, nor can they visualize that real progress can take place only if they break down these separating walls, walls that are keeping them in and keeping others out. The communities referred to are religious communities and the walls that they will not demolish are not those made of stone, brick, concrete, or even weaker materials but those psychological walls existing in their interpre-tation of what a community is and must remain. Com-munity for these religious is a "living" together and by 4- 4- 4- Brother Urban Naal, S.M., teaches at Vianney High School; 1311 South Kirkwood Road; St. Louis, Mo. 63122, VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 Urban Naal, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS this they mean a living together in one place at one time by all the members assigned to a particular community or house. What is actually stressed is the physical sharing of one house though they do not seem to realize this. As the modern community cannot be limited by walls that suffocate, so the modern religious community must be ~eed from the walls that bind it. This can only be done through a reinterpretation of what a religious commu-nity is and a realization that a modern community must be a psychological sharing and not a physical sharing alone. To constantly insist upon a physical sharing, a doing everything together, to keep repairing walls that need to crumble, succeeds eventually in suffocating the very members who have retained the walls. Growth can-not take place until the walls are removed. The modern religious community must be bound to-gether by a spirit and not by the physical presence of the walls of a house. The witness o[ such a community must consist in a harmonious interest in the diverse works of each of the members and not in the force shown by a group of people living together under one roof. The community witness must be a living together of diverse ideas and cultures and values. The individual religious, bound by public vows of religion, must be free to leave the walls of the commu-nity for greater activity, travel, business, communica-tion, work, education, and the needs of society at large. He is living in the modern world, not the Middle Ages. He must be trained to think as an individual and not as a group. This is not to say that there are no dangers in taking protective walls down, especially for those who first cautiously venture forth. (Nor is it to try to claim that walls of themselves preclude all danger.) There is danger for the young who need walls to inclose them until they are old enough to venture forth on their own. There is danger for the member of the community who has never been given the chance to go it alone and Who psycho-logically needs walls to shield him. There is danger for the immature in the community who do not have the strength nor security to leave the womb. There. is danger, too, once the walls are down that undersirable persons or ideas might creep in. Yet, to grow in the modern world the member of the community must learn to live with these dangers, to grow because of them. No one can avoid all danger. In fact, it is through these dangers that growth takes place. In learning to deal with danger man matures. It is a fallacy to feel that walls make it possible to create an artificial situation in which all members by a certain age or a certain stage of life become model religious, fitting perfectly into some kind of foreseen mold. Nor can this denial of the individuality of man be called Christian, no matter how much it appears to be the basis of the religious community. The members of a religious community must be trained to use the God-given talents they possess and to grow as individuals according as God made them. Guidelines are not outlawed, but charity must consist in accepting each member for .what he is and for how God made him rather than to how closeIy he matches someone's personal rule of perfection. If the religious community prepared thinking individ-uals using the brains God gave them to use, there would be no need of wails for physically mature persons, no reason to fear the wails coming down. The community of living together under one roof tends to stifle initia-tive and creativity. It forces the members to aim at a common--and often lowest--denominator, regulating the lives of the members according to some precon-ceived general norm resulting in the members actually dedicating themselves to mediocrity rather than to the highest potential of which they are capable. It does not permit each person to grow at his own rate nor to be-lieve according to what he is able to "see" at present. The religious community in the twentieth century must be an outgrowth of the Middle Ages. It must progress with the times and be as efficient as the dines permit. The religious, to be true religious and apostles, must go out beyond the wails to where they are needed, to where the action is. Artificial action and needs cannot be set up within the walls or close-by. The modern religious must carry his community in spirit wherever he goes, wherever he is needed. He must be trained and trusted to carry this community with him, rather than be crippled by forever being tied to a particular house often far from the needs of the world. He must often go alone into the field (be it education, communication, business) to bear witness and to work, even though it be far from an established community of his order. He might even become the center of a new-type of "community" of those working around him. This does not mean that there is no need for the com-munity in the traditional sense of the word. It definitely has a place. It is the walled city or quiet womb in which the religious needs to reside while being formed. It is the "dock" to which the weary working religious needs to return periodically for nourishment and light and the moral support of his fellow religious which is so important to one working alone in the field of battle. The individual religious could not continue to work + + ommunity VOLUME 28, 1969 without these periodic retreats to that haven from whence he came. There is need, too, of the traditional community for those who do not feel that they can or want to leave it. Yet, the modern religious, a religious in the true sense, must be free to go beyond the walls that presently hem him in and thwart his apostolate. To force community members to live closely together under the same roof under the guise that the four walls constitute a commu-nity is to miss the point completely and to miss the modern apostolate completely. The real community is a spiritual thing, a love of and an acceptance of one's fellow religious wherever they are. It is not confined to those living within the four walls of a particular com-munity. Nor is it created by the mere presence of four walls. The normal family with grown members no longer reside within the same four walls; and yet no matter how far they are scattered they exhibit an in-tense loyalty to the members of the family from which they came because of their love and acceptance of one another, not because they happened to at one time reside within the same four walls (which have now crumbled). The modern religious community if it is to succeed must go beyond the walls that they have erected less they awake one day to find that life has pass them by. Let not today's religious communities be the ghost towns of tomorrow. ÷ ÷ ÷ Urban Nail, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS GEORGE C. McCAULEY, S.J. The Toll and Why We Pay h: A Theological Image of Religious Life Religious are always surprised and annoyed by the basic ignorance, even in the Catholic community, of the distinction between priesthood and the religious life, between orders and vows. In the new Church people ask brothers, nuns, and religious priests: "Are they going to allow you to marry?" It becomes easier to live with such ignorance when finally we discover that it is based on a lack of any real interest. But today the question: "What is a religious?" is being posed earnestly and painfully not by others but by many religious themselves. Prophets of doom count the days for religious orders and congregations, and they offer statistics in support of their baleful prognoses. With many religious leaving and fewer entering the re-ligious life, religious are anxious for a self-understanding that will help them navigate through some of the con-temporary uncertainty. A perfectly satisfying self-under-standing is rarely forthcoming in life. We are more in need of a creative and humanly intelligible hypothesis against which we can test our Christian and religious experience. It is the task of theology to set forth such an hypothesis. To that end we will attempt first to describe more thoroughly the religious' contemporary plight, and then to isolate the human (therefore intelligible) form of the religious' commitment, its various motivations, and the content of that commitment or the directions in which the religious life has always and will always take those who embrace that life. The Toll The religious gradually becomes an out~ider to the cultural milieu in which he lives. True, it is hard to iso-÷ ÷ i÷ George C. Mc- Cauley, S.J., is a member of the the-ology faculty of St. Peter's College in Jersey City, New Jersey 07306. VOEUME 28, 1969 4- 4- 4- George C. McCauley, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 734 late a cultural milieu which affects all people in exactly the same way. It is also possible that many religious are more in touch than many non-religious with what-ever cultural milieu is available. We will develop the thesis, however, that the more in touch the religious is, the greater the toll will be that he will pay. If we ac-cept as a working definition of cultural milieu as the main network of achievements, activities, and values that emerge from the physical and spiritual resources of men, then it is clear that the religious gradually becomes unstuck from this network. The reason for this is that most men are usually attached to this network at various points, while the religious fits the cultural pattern only sketchily. The cultural pattern involves at least the triad of job, marriage, and family. The economic, political, and recreational systems of men are geared to and de-pendent .upon man's wishes in those three areas. The communications media feed, and feed upon, the needs that are contained in those three aspects of life. Assiduous-ness, success, planning, ingenuity, failure, social useful-ness, ambition, acceptability, and normality are in a thousand subtle ways measured against the standard inherent in the triad of job, marriage, and family. The religious recedes from this standard, and this gradual recession takes its toll on his'cultural sensibilities. His routine activities have little to do with the cultural standard: his clothing is both singular and culturally meaningless. His language is dissonant: fun, life, enter-tainment, pleasure, anxiety, responsibility, relaxation-- these words have a different ring for him than for other men. His normal working hours are accompanied by different expectations, and hence he misses the rhythms which usually mark the beginning and end of a man's work. He is disassociated from the immense cultural ritual of finding and keeping a mate. His energies are not spent on the intricate process of nesting, of providing and securing goods for a family. He does not shop, keep financial records, save, angle, sweat, or celebrate with the same sentiments or relish that other men have. The point of all this is not simply that the religious does not do what most men do. It is rather to suggest that he gradually foregoes sensibility in these areas. Sen-sibility is itself a difficult term to define. The religious need not become insensitive to the cultural life around him. He knows that men around him are engaged might-ily in their own routines, and he senses these routines in others. But he notes their absence in himself. He can-not perceive them within his whole emotional, self-aware-ness apparatus. The toll that he pays is this sense of void in himself in comparison with the cultural mass which surrounds him and which, by its sheer weight, seems to pressure him to be like it. This realization should not lead the religious to exag-gerate his predicament. Every vocation has its toll and everyone could recount the frustrations and limitations implied in his life choices. What is important is that the religious understand the scope and dimensions of the toll that he will in all likelihood pay. He must situate himself as honestly as possible in terms of his actual cultural coordinates which in his case are not normal ones. Then he must ask himself if he understands why he takes, in faith, such a peculiar stance vis-a-vis his culture. Not that he should so call his faith into question that it ceases to exist. This unimaginative and simplistic solution removes the problem by denying its existence and we can only get so far in life with this gambit. On the other hand religious communities must have a con-sensus of self-understanding against which they can judge themselves and the times. The stresses and strains of living as marginal men in a vast cultural network tend to prove too much for everyone's individual nerves. Only a community's conviction, its faith elaborated in intelli-gible and affirmative terms, can sustain the religious life today. The religious is not helped by being told his life is more than human. He suspects mightily that what people mean by this comes down in the long run to being less than human. Hence he asks for an understanding of his vows in terms of their true humanity. Reasons and an Image The religious is pressed to say why he does what he does. Up to a point he can answer that Christ's example is what motivates him. But the limitations of this ex-planation of the religious life are apparent. For one thing, we are not Christ. For another, the Scriptural references to "imitating Christ" (1 Th 1:6; 1 Cot 4:16) apply to all Christians, not to one class or group of Christians. The same is true of the Scriptural ref-erences to "following Christ" (Mt 8:22; 19:21; 12:26; 19:28; Mk 9:38; Jn 8:12). Again, the picture of the way Christ actually lived is difficult to disengage from the sev-eral layers of testimony about Him which we have in the Gospels. In other words, we do not have any ready-made picture of what His poverty, chastity, and obedience looked like, and this makes our claim as religious to be imitating Him more difficult. The Son of Man did not have a place to lay His head, but He had a devoted fol-lowing of women and it is hard to see how anyone in those circumstances would have to do without material necessities. He was obedient to the Father, but was such .I-÷ 4- TI~ Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCauley, REV]EW FOR REL[GIOUS obedience more difficult than obedience shown to men and women who do not have all the Father's advantages? He was celibate in a culture that did not set as much store as we do today on mutual love between man and woman, on personal sexual attraction and its flowering in family life. We will return to the question of the reli-gious' relationship with Christ in a moment. The point here is that expressions like "imitating" Christ which recur in our traditional formulations of the religious life are not by that simple fact illuminating when we come to examine what the religious life is. We are there-fore forced to take a closer look at the religious life as a form of human activity. One advantage to this ap-proach is that the religious might get a clearer, more identifiable picture of what he is doing, even apart from the question of why he is doing it. What image, then, will help us understand what the religious is doing? We will suggest as a basic charac-terization of that life its daring nature. By this is meant more than that the religious is exposed to the toll men-tioned earlier and hence that he risks not surviving his being distanced from the cultural milieu. Not surviving is a risk, to be sure, but a risk is not a dare. The latter has a more positive connotation and requires a more ex-tended analysis. When we speak of a daring feat or of a daring way of life, the emphasis is less on the possibility of failure as it is on the uniqueness of accomplishment involved. The accomplishment takes place in the face of obstacles and danger, but these aspects are subordinate to the inner content of the accomplishment itself. Examples of daring are varied. There are daring feats of exploration, .of physical prowess or menta! endurance, of both of these latter in varying combinations. We even speak of daring crimes. Daring stems from a certain persistent determina-tion to do something which (though not necessarily be-cause) other people do not do. This determination settles on what is uncustomary.The darer fixes on strange goals and pursues them with a single-minded intensity. He is oblivious to commentary, favorable or not, on his ac-tions. It is not a question of toughness nor of unconven-tionality. The darer may be outwardly the mildest and most unprepossessing person in the world. But he is capable of totally concentrating on the steps which sepa-rately and together form his achievement. We cannot deny that his dare resembles an obsession. He is also sub-ject to the usual urge to limit and falsify the demands of his dare, to exaggerate his readiness, qualifications, and technique for daring properly. But these he corrects in order to be true to the dare. The point here is not to ask why he dares, but to ob- serve the act of daring in itself, its rigid demands, its engrossing personal fascination for the darer, and its indifference to other ways of acting. This indifference is important. The mountain climber, for example, can be questioned endlessly as to why he does what he does. He is in effect being asked to justify his daring which often seems to be either sheer folly or disdain for life in the valley. Mallory's well-known explanation of why he assaulted Everest ("Because it is there") is, however, less a comment on Everest, which is there for everyone, than a revelation about Mallory who was different precisely in his d~ring. In his case, as with all daring, we are forced to admit that, to some extent, daring is its own justifica-tion. No amount of scepticism, no amount of bewilder-ment on the part of those who do not dare, can detract from the darer's achievement. The test of the human validity of a dare is the admiration that it inspires in the observer. And in terms of a traditional humanism, the burden of the proof is on the non-darer to show that daring is unjustified. In all this, we cannot facilely iden-tify daring with "doing your own thing," since there is an aspect of human achievement and of human approval to the dare that is often lacking where some attempt to glorify "their own thing." If we apply the image of an act of daring to the con-duct of religious, we get some idea of what the religious life as a form of observable human conduct is. It is a form of daring whose justification, in part at least, is to be sought no further than in its own intrinsic impera-tive as daring. We must practice the same discipline in examining the religious life as we did with the act of daring itself, by postponing questions of motive and of content in order to see the human form of the religious life as such. Hence we may not assume as a general prin-ciple that Christ "calls" to the religious life individuals who are neutrally qualified, that is, ready to lead that life or some other life, with the only difference in the subsequent choice beifig a difference in the degree of love that they can summon up for Christ. Such a view makes the choice of the religious life almost com-pletely a matter of an adult decision to move from a neutral plane to one of greater (more altruistic) love. But is it not more likely that Christ calls individ-uals to this life because they are daring types, that is, because they have, before any adult decision related to Christ, something in themselves which is capable of and which demands living a dare? The rich young man in the Gospels was sad that Christ invited him to a life of poverty and of dedication. This narrative has sometimes led to the impression that a call from Christ brings a person who supposedly stands in neutral balance before various ~÷ ÷ ÷ Tlw Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 George C. McCauley, S.J. REVIEW FOR REL~6~OUS possible life options to choose a "lfigher" state into which he then fits his talents. But such a view of Christ's calling may not credit Christ with sufficient politeness. The call of Christ is perhaps better adapted to our in-dividual capacities than we expect. The rich young man's sadness is not only to be attributed to the fact that, in following Christ, he will have to do without his riches, but also to the fact that he is the kind of person who should dare to do without riches if he is to respond to the imperatives of his own deepest person which Christ sees more clearly than he does. How then do such terms as "greater love," "closer following of Christ," or "higher state" apply to the re-ligious life? If, as we will suggest later on, the religious' dare also turns out to be of immense service to the Church and to the world, how is the religious to relate his own imperative as a darer, this personal and quite human as-pect of his calling, to the service of others? What we are really asking is how Christ looks upon the individual religious: as someone who should consciously concentrate on the service and love of Christ and of others beyond the measure of what is normally asked? or as someone who should be candidly aware of his own personal imperative to dare, to enjoy the situation of being a darer regardless of how much service or love is connected with it? Is Christ the kind of person who would "use" the darer for the service of the Church? Or is Christ calling the darer to a conscious love and service of Himself and of the Church only in order to reveal to the darer his own true self? If Christ's concern in calling the individual religious is primarily to a!low that religious a large meas-ure of fidelity to what is most personal and quite human in himself--to his capacity to dare--what sense is there in describing the religious life as a call to greater or higher love? The religious life is indeed centered on Christ; and, through this centering, it has a more uni-versal scope and influence. And all this, too, is thoroughly human, even if our cultural norms do not recognize this humanity. But we should not call such a commitment "greater" or "higher" if what we really mean by those words is a commitment that is more universal in scope. Perhaps the better way to describe the religious' relation-ship to Christ is to speak of Christ initially as someone who calls us to love Him and others, then as someone who shows us the way in which we love ourselves, and finally as someone with whom we are ourselves in the daring service of others. There are several corollary observations to be made on our use of the image of daring to help us understand the religious' commitment. First of all, it seems that this image is less suited to women religious then to men, simply because men more than women have been asso-ciated with those activities from which we sought an un-derstanding of the structure of daring. It is risky to sug-gest what daring consists of for the gentler sex; yet, if a parallel image is to be sought, it is to be sought in a con-text of exceptional actions which of themselves call forth human esteem and which also call for unusual deter-mination, singleness of purpose, no apologies, and a deep sense of a specific pull in one direction. Childbearing and putting up with male pretensions are daring enough, but are they not also too universal to illustrate a womanly dare? The will to make sense out of life, and to live its rhythms in one's actual circumstances, char-acterizes every basic vocational choice. It is only where the choice seems to depart from the usual without be-coming bizarre that we are dealing with a dare. Hence women religious must seek the image of their daring in some other more appropriate phenomenon. The only one that suggests itself at the moment is the image of the woman of abandon who sets no store on propriety, scorns convention, and foregoes a good name in the pur-suit of love. Despite its obvious limitations this image conveys many of the qualities that we associate with dar-ing. The second observation concerns "leaving" the life of vows. There are overanxious minds who rule out a priori the continued desirability of a permanent style of religi-ous life. Yet, it is somewhat tyrannical to say that no one should live his religious dare to the end of his days. It overlooks the fact that some people do live it, and live it well for a lifetime, shifting emphases and priorities as the circumstances of the Church require, deepening the main lines of their dare, personally enriched and a source of joy for all around them. But in assessing the permanency of the religious life we have to keep in mind that, where we are dealing with something resembling a dare, we are going to have to keep a respectful distance from another person's commitment. The reason is that we simply do not know who is called to dare and for how long. The Church has always recognized this and has granted dispensations from "permanent," "final" vows, however "solemn" they might have been. We have pre-served, if grudgingly at times, the insight that Christ is not as fanatical as we sometimes wish to be in insuring lifetime commitments. No less a master of spiritual in-sight than Ignatius of Loyola indicated in his spiritual Exercises that there is always room for the subsequent discovery that one's life choices have not added up to a "divine vocation." His sixteenth century advice to a per-son making such a discovery was that they make the best of the situation. In parochial Europe at that time making ÷ 4- ÷ Th~ Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCauley, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the best of the situation often excluded, [or purely social reasons, departing from one's chosen state. There is less pressure on the religious today to continue in a vocation that no longer appears to be divine, that is, that no longer amounts to a growth in charity (beginning at home) for the individual or for those he encounters. We all must wait on the individual to tell us as the fruit of his most interior discovery whether or not in fact he wishes to continue his dare. If he does not, that is, by the unique nature of his daring situation, his business and not ours. It might even not be a bad idea for the Con-gregation of Religious, when issuing papers that release from the vows, to add a word of thanks for the service, short or long, that an individual has given to the Church in the course of daring commitment to Christ. A third observation brings us back to the question of the religious' motivation in choosing to make the dare that his life is. We suggested that his motivation is pri-marily a response to Christ in which the religious may not be aware that Christ's invitation suits his own make-up as a darer. This prior suitability in no way offends against the gratuity of Christ's invitation. It simply gives Christ more credit for exercising his gratuity politely, according to the actual condition of the person whom he is inviting. Yet, the choice of the religious life is open to other motivations precisely because of its dare struc-tare. These motivations are not properly religious and can therefore cause great harm to the individual who acts on them. For example, there is the motivation pres-ent, ironically, in those whose faith is most precarious. Doubt sits in the center of most authentic faith; but where this doubt is severe, and where the person in ques-tion is highly sincere or scrupulous, it sometimes hap-pens that the person wishes to put his doubt "to the su-preme test." That is, he wishes to test it out in the most difficult circumstances in order to be able to say that he gave faith a chance to prove itself to him. A parallel may be drawn here between the case of some religious and that of doctors and psychiatrists among whom a high incidence of depression is found. This depression is con-sidered to be as much a cause of their professional interest and vocation as it is a result of exposure to the hard realities of their profession. Similarly the religious may gravitate to his particular way of life in order to test faith at the extreme. Unfortunately, he may then push himself (or others) beyond the measure of daring to an unbounded or fanatical kind of performance testing, without much joy or real personal exchange, and without the care that distinguishes the darer from the presumptu-ous or dangerous achiever. What the Religious Dares to Do If in its human form the religious life is an act of daring, what is the content of that dare? What does the religious dare to do? As a general statement we might say that the religious dares the normal structures of Christian living. The Vatican Council (II) pointed out that the religious' special act of consecration "is deeply rooted in [their] baptismal consecration and provides an ampler manifestation of it" (Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life, n. 5). This baptismal con-secration takes in the whole Christian commitment to form community with God and with one's fellow men by engaging in a life of authentic cult and. sacramental humanism. It is obviously a very broad kind of commit-ment. How then is it possible to dare it? What the Church has done is to divide up the baptismal commitment somewhat artificially into the less broad categories of poverty, chastity, and obedience; religious center their dare in these areas. What is important to realize is that the normal Christian has a commitment in these areas by reason of his baptismal vows. He is directed to take a stand, in the name of Christ, on material goods and pos-sessions, on sexual and married love, on his relationship of dependence on God and on others. What the religious does is to take these preexisting structures of the Christian commitment and to treat them in a daring fashion. We will analyze this effort in a moment. Part of the contem-porary crisis in the religious life, however, is precisely the fact that the normal structures of the baptismal com-mitment are in flux. Hence the religious is uncertain in his dare. This is an extremely painful state, and all the more dangerous because the religious is, as a darer, a most earnest person, all appearances to the contrary. It is not surprising that many religious are leaving to under-take specific (if temporary) tasks of more than ordinary dedication. To attribute this phenomenon solely to a lack of generosity or to a general softness is perhaps one of the most simple-minded analyses ever made in the Church. On the other hand, the uncertainty attendant upon the religious life today is largely inevitable. The review to which the Church itself and the baptismal commitment are being subjected today creates a state of imbalance for the general believer and for the religious. We can illustrate this in the three areas of the religious' dare. In one sense, little has changed in the baptized per-son's commitment to poverty. There is still the need to resist our tendency to clutter, to surround, to weigh our-selves down with all sorts of paraphernalia which pains-÷ ÷ ÷ The Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 74! ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCauley, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS takingly insure or trumpet our personal importance. There is, too, the command and invitation of Christ to share with the needy. In daring these Christian forms of poverty, the religious can hardly pretend that it makes no difference what he owns or what he shares with others. He will therefore continue to aim at divesting himself of those layers of material possession which enable nor-mal people to define themselves in terms of what they have instead of who they are. The religious will bare his person to the world in testimony to the fact that it is at the level of personhood that we most truly exist and Christ most truly works. He will continue to share his talents and his energies with his fellow man. He will also give witness to the fact that sharing at the level of personhood is a far more demanding and far richer kind of sharing than all others, and that this kind of sharing is most illustrative of the kind of redeemer Christ was. But there is a special stamp to the poverty of the baptised Christian today, a stamp which in turn calls for revisions in the way the religious dares that poverty. The Church's present attitude (officially communicated in various encyclicals) toward material goods and toward money is characterized by an insistence on a responsi-ble, intelligent, and imaginative use of these things in society at large. The religious' dare at this level need not imply that he personally receive and keep a salary which he then uses wisely and imaginatively. The prob-lem with money today is not in the individual use of money but in the social uses of money, in the con-structive political uses of money at the institutional, local, national, and international levels. Religious have in fact felt the need to be daring in these areas. They have had to question their investment of money and manpower in traditional institutions and aposto-lates, to consolidate their houses of formation, to avoid reduplication that has no other justification than a de-sire to be true to the Good Old Founder, to fund mis-sionary work conjointly with other groups and even other faiths, to work through civil institutions where these have the moneys and structures to do a job better. But there is always room to improve the quality of our dare. The fortunes of Christian authority are also fluctuating today. Everyone is trying to make sense out of the apparent "disobedience" shown papal and episcopal authority. Opinions range from the simplistic view that we are dealing with a wave of sinful disloyalty to the view that we are developing a Christian anarchy which reduces the relation of the faithful to the hierarchy to a matter of contending power groups. The more solidi analyses of theologians of authority have taken two di- rections: first, to attack facile identifications of Christian authority with those profane forms of authority that we meet in our normal experience (parental, civil, educa-tional, personal magnetism, power, and so forth). What changes, this attack has brought about in our usual attitudes toward jurisdiction, law, rules, derision mak-ing, official teaching, penalties, and so forth, is not yet clear. Secondly, theologians have put Christian authority in the context of dialogue, not as though dialogue were simply the modern style of Christian authority and its pragmatic concomitant, but because of the God-given and inalienable dignity of the individual Christian be-fore all men which demands that he direct his life in responsible freedom, that he assess events with an open-ness to people who think differently from himself. There are innumerable problems in the theology of authority which remain unsolved. Our point here is again to point out that the religious dares what the normal Christian is exposed to in the matter of authority. The hero in the religious community today is not the one who can keep the rules best. Many of those trained to wait for superiors to decide for them what they will do by way of work, apostolate, or formation suffer most. And it is not clear that their suffering offers us the opti-mum example of the folly of the cross. Ironically, the greatest suffering (and possibly the more authentic em-bodiment of Christian folly) comes in the religious' ex-perience of dialogue. Today's religious communities probably have more experience in dialogue than any other large groups of people in the world. In the hours and hours spent on examining apostolate, structures, attitudes, renovation, and local problems, religious have discovered the real dimensions of their divi-sions. This discovery has often been accompanied with confusion and even with bitterness. Some communities have, to all appearances, been destroyed by this dialogue. Others are finding their life less romantic, more stark and seemingly loveless. Still others are discovering that it is precisely in a keen sense of intramural differences that the true nature of Christian faith is emerging. The religious is discovering that he must and can break bread --at least the bread of Christ--with those with whom he differs. He must and can work together despite serious ideological rifts. He must and can love what is really not himself. The image of his religious community as a homo-geneous unit has shattered irreparably. If he does not find a new and absolute source of unity in the principle of dialogue itself, he is doomed. The astounding aspect of this whole development is that the secular world needs precisely this kind of unity-in- diversity at the present time. Nothing could be more ÷ ÷ ÷ The Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 4. 4. George . McCauley, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS pragmatic and more relevant than for the Roman Catholic Church, through its experience of dialogue, to become the spokesman for dialogue in the modern world, to share with the world its hitter experience and yet the constructive healing that it has found in dialogue. We are learning as a community and not simply as in-dividuals to face the different levels of meaning that lie behind human language, to concentrate on that which unites us rather than on that which tears us apart, to rid ourselves of the mentality that says it is easy to dis-agree in lucid and unambiguous terms. Perhaps if we learn this lesson well the world will profit from our presence. The religious communities are now £eeling the pain of dialogue in the most intense fashion. Dialogue has hardly even begun on the parish level and, given our cultural and religious background, it will be only through an "authoritative" command of bishops over a long period that parish-level dialogue will be triggered and sustained. In the meantime religious communities will be asked to dare this dialogue structure of authority. If they are hard pressed in doing so, it is no great surprise. The question is: Is it not worthwhile? The third and most obvious area of the religious' dare is the matter of chastity. Chastity is required of all Christians by reason of their baptismal vows. Unfortu-nately, it is often understood in purely negative terms without much realization that a purely negative view is uhimately insulting to Christ. Yet, the purpose of Christian chastity is that every Christian learn from Christ what it is to be an authentic human lover. Such is the logic of the sacrament of matrimony, in which a couple accepts Christ into the heart of their human love, making His attitudes the standard for their own relationship. What this implies, too, is that, when Christ is introduced into the heart of human love, that love is forced to become open to other people beyond the lovers themselves. For the commitment to Christ as the standard and support of human love opens the couple out to Christ's community who help to interpret the standard and to support the couple in their pursuit of human love. Hence Christ makes even the private love between man and woman more open to others and more enriching for all. The religious extend this principle of openness in human love through Christ. By introducing Christ even more into the heart of his love, he opens himself out to more human contacts, to relationships of support and understanding with more people. Whatever the ac-tual scope of the religious' concern for and contact with people, his intention, and the content of his dare, is to give himself to as many as possible through Christ. Or, to put it more in the actual terms of his awareness, his instinct and his hope is that in not giving himself to one woman in Christ, Christ makes of him a man for all men and women. There are two observations to be made concerning the religious' chastity. First of all, a vow 0f chastity is not something which blots out in the religious an aware-ness of his own capacity for married love. In fact it seems that the more authentic hi~ dare in this area the more proximately ready he should be for married love. We might even say that, without ever mildly compromising his commitment, the religious should try to keep ready in order that his dare never become a sort of misguided m~prise for other ways of living and loving, and in order that his devotion to the Lord preserve its own proper relationship to other loves. Religious love Christ not with some globally undifferentiated or asexual love, but men love him as a man and women love him as women. And unless one has some notion of what the difference between the two is, one risks marring the appropriate overtones to the individual's relationship to Christ. The second remark to be made is that the religious also serves those for whom human love between a man and a woman is a physical, psychological, or economic impossibility. In an affluent sodety who cares for the un-gainly loves? Who sympathizes for the awkward, the ugly, the malproportioned? For people in whom love crouches like a deformed child? For those for whom their own sexuality is an embarrassment or a grotesque albatross? For whom communication with the other sex is at best a halting dumb-show or hollow bravura and at worst a mockery? Against the standard of successful married love, these people are judged severely in most societies. We do our best to hide them, or not to discuss them, because we surreptitiously set up as an absolute standard of human dignity success in married love. The presence of religious can do much to dissipate this false assessment of human dignity. Sooner or later, some0he is going to have to explain the religious who, while he insists on his own dignity, does not measure it by the imperious standard of successful married love. And others, seeing the religious, can take hope for their own dignity. Conclusion Our analysis has not left us without questions. This is inevitable since any theological image is no more than that, a way of understanding a faith experience which constantly runs ahead of our images of it. In admitting the difficulty of reconciling the image of daring with the service aspect of the vows (service to Christ and to men), we are simply expressing in other terms the perennial problem of reconciling love of self with love of others, ÷ ÷ Th~ ToI! the problem of being a self in the world. Other prob-lems lie beneath the surface of our consideration of the content of the religious' dare. A kind of parallel think-ing urges us to conclude that, just as the religious ends up not marrying, not having possessions, so too he should end up not choosing in the face of a superior's commands. This is indeed an aspect of his dare, but only in the sense that the religious foregoes choosing to limit dia-logue, just as he foregoes limiting his human love to one woman and just as he foregoes limiting his person to his possessions. The superior's commands should not ignore the positive purpose of the vows which are not supposed to be some kind of exercise in how-long-can-you-go-holding- your-breath. The religious superior has to realize that the vows open up the religious to the service of all. Moreover the superior has to realize that he is dealing with the daring of an individual person and that his function as superior is not to get individuals to conform to some imaginary and generalized "will of Christ." The superior's main role is to let Christ work in the life of the individual religious, without himself insisting a priori on the possible ways in which and only in which Christ can work. The religious superior can never interfere with the general lines of the structure of the religious life itself. If, as we suggested, these general lines require the re-ligious to dare the baptismal commitment to poverty, chastity, and obedience, it becomes all the more im-portant for religious superiors today to examine their own attitudes toward how the Church today is formu-lating the baptismal commitment. On this point, the general argument in the Church over what the implica-tions of Christian baptism are is taking a further toll on individual religious who feel that their dare is up in the air while the general argument rages. It is hardly sur-prising, then, that the optimists and pessimists line up in about the same way on the religious life as they do on the Church itself. It is curious, however, how optimism also resembles a dare. ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCaul~y, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS JOHN W. STAFFORD, C.S.V. Prayer Life in the Contemporary Community Introduction There are several approaches to a reflection on the prayer life of the contemporary religious community. One could enter the reflection, with the bias that there just does not seem to be much prayer going on these days in the contemporary community, either private, personal prayer or communal prayer. In that case the title of this paper might have been altered to read: "The Decline and Fall of Prayer in the World of Today." A second bias might be a more joyous one. Freed from the routine of the so-called religious exercises, the con-temporary religious leads a life of prayer that is unself-ish, authentic, meaningful, and full of compassion and concern for one's fellow man in God's world of today. The times and places of prayer are utterly unimpor-tant, but there is prayer going on. The forms of prayer are informal, perhaps free-form, or even utterly form-less. But there is substance to the prayer, and substance is certainly more important than form. Our title then might have been: "Come, All You Gals and Guys, Let's Strum a Prayer to the Lord." Or, if one wants to risk use of a language that is not exactly alive and jumping, the title might even be, with a certain appropriateness: "Laborare Est Orate." A third approach might be from the bias of the har-monizer, the synthesizer, the cool observer of the con-temporary scene, who perhaps thinks he is without bias. The reflection then would focus on what is good in the prayer life of religious in the past that should be pre-served, on what should be modified to conform to the needs of today (with a reference, of course, to Perfectae ÷ ÷ ÷ John W. $taf-ford° C.S.V., lives at 1100 Forest Avenue; Evanston, Illinois 80£02. VOLUME 28, 1969 747 + + ]ohn W. Sta~ord, C~.V. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS caritatis, n. 3), and finally on how entirely new concepts of prayer can enrich our religious life. The title of all this could well be: "The Adaptive Renewal of Prayer Life in the Contemporary Community"; perhaps more briefly: "Old Wine in New Bottles", or maybe: "Old Wine in Your Own New Plastic Bag." There could even be a fourth approach (and I am sure more), that of the planner and the prophet. The reflection would be directed towards some kind of schema of prayer life to fit the tempo and needs of to-day. There could be principles and propositions, a sort of blueprint or script or scenario for the ideal type of prayer life for a contemporary religious. This could be entitled simply: "How the Religious of Today Should Pray." The approach here, no doubt with conscious and un-conscious overtones of all four of the above, will be what may be rather grandiosely called phenomenological. The reflection will be that very difficult one of attempting to look at the prayer life of religious factually and with-out bias, non-judgmentally. Perhaps in any meaningful sense this is practically impossible, not only because of the lack of truly factual information, but. also due to man's apparently irresistible drive to look at every-thing through the basic biases of his being. The Facts of Contemporary Prayer The hard facts of the contemporary prayer life of religious are not easy to come by. There are all sorts of things going on ad experimentum; but there seem precious few real experiments with verified data that can be communicated and dealt with in objective study. There are, of course, some generalizations frequently made, but of dubious value. Some examples: religious today have largely lost the true spirit of prayer; there is less prayer today, but better prayer; there is really more prayer going on, in pri,date, although less in public to be seen by others; there are new modes of prayer around that are truly prayer even though they cannot at all be classified into the categories of the past. No doubt such statements are true for selected nmnbers of people, but how generalized we can make them it is impossible to say. But it seems that, based on widespread observation and report, some true generalizations are possible about the present-day prayer behavior of religious. Fewer religious are seen in their chapels, either for private prayer before the Blessed Sacrament or for com-munal exercises of prayer. When they do come together to pray, it is on a schedule that is notably more flexible and less demanding than even only a few years ago. There certainly has been adaptation in prayer "to the physical and psychological conditions of today's reli-gious" (Perfectae caritatis, n. 3). Changes in the forms of communal prayer have been widespread: exercises formerly thought best performed in common, like spiritual reading and visits to the Blessed Sacrament, are now considered more personal and private. The formulas of morning and evening prayer, which in many congregations grew like barnacles over the decades and even over the centuries, have been largely replaced by the official prayers of the Church, Lauds and Vespers or Compline. More recently, these official prayers have lost some of their novelty in those congregations where they were only recently introduced; hence there has been a rather widespread substitution of other readings for the Psalms, and this has here and there taken forms that are as contemporary as the latest popular literature. Today, then, there is certainly more variety, more improvisa-tion, more individual participation in prayer than there has been in the "Official" Church for centuries. It seems that another notable change with regard to the prayer life of religious is that, even though there may be less praying in public, the whole question of prayer has become explosively public. People talk about prayer more than perhaps at any other time since the Golden Age of Spanish mysticism in the sixteenth cen-tury. But the talk today would hardly be understood by a Spanish or any other variety of mystic: it deals not with degrees of the spiritual life, not with problems of aridity and desolation and dark nights of the soul, but with the very relevance of forms of prayer and of prayer itself in a secular age. There is a frankness in today's discussions about prayer totally unknown before. The superiority of prayer over service to others is seriously questioned. The assumption that there should be the same prayer for all at the same time and in the same place is simply rejected. And some of the traditional prayers of the Church come in for especially withering criticism, like the clear implication in the Hymn at Lauds for the Christmas season that the Infant Jesus was cold and hungry, and that choice bit from Psalm 136, at Thursday's Lauds: "Happy the man who shall seize and smash your little ones against the rocks." And "Good Night, Jesus," just does not seem to swing on an electric guitar. The whole place of prayer in the religious life, es-pecially in the formative years, has come under ques-tioning scrutiny. It would seem a valid generalization that until fairly recently young religious fresh "out of the world" and into the novitiate, for the most part, first were taught to pray, according to the accepted 4. 4- 4- Prayer LiJe VOLUME 28, ].969 749 ÷ ÷ ÷ John W. Sta~ord, C~.V. REVZEW FOR RELZG[OUS forms and customs of the congregation. Then, in seclu-sion from the world they learned how to live in charity with one another. Finally, if they belonged to the active societies, after a number of years of formation it was considered safe to permit them to engage in some form of external apostolate for the service of others, where they would meet "people of the world." Throughout they were taught to do all this for Christ who is God. It is not at all. clear that the concepts of Christ and of God of many religious today are those of even a decade ago. The Thomistic God of the philosophers is by no means accepted by all religious today. Maybe this was true a generation ago, too, but the fact is that if it was, one just did not say so! And views of Christ held today by many religious might have been labeled as tainted with heresy not at all long ago. It is not popular today to begin with prayer, for God through Christ, then move on to carefully guarded relationships with a highly se-lected group of chosen souls presumably much like yourself. You begin with people. In your encounters with people you learn more of yourself; and, if you are lucky, you come to see that people, ultimately, cannot really fulfill the totality of human needs. So God enters in, transcendent, it is true, but not at all the God with the carefully distinguished attributes of the old theo-logical manuals, and by no means always the God to whom novices formerly were taught to pray. But this God, nevertheless, is still a God to whom one prays. As everyone knows, a notable change in the prayer life of the contemporary religious, as in the prayer life of the whole Church, is the restoration of the centrality of the divine liturgy. Even though the importance or even the wisdom of daily Mass is questioned widely, and the forms of the Mass by no means always held to what is officially permitted, the Mass is still the great prayer of religious. It is a fact that many are dissatisfied with the Mass unless it is made something that they consider authentic, .dynamic, and fulfilling. The Liturgy of the Word is modified to fit the needs and interests of the participants, and the spontaneous changes made in the Liturgy of Sacrifice are in the direction of more personal meaningfulness and of greater social relevancy. A final fact that might be noted in today's prayer life of religious is that it can no longer be considered as restricted to the "ghetto" of the convent chapel. For the Mass at least, religious join more often than before with others in public church or university chapel. And those who do not belong to the congregation have now a warmer welcome than ever before to worship with religious in their own chapels. Religious, too, like all in the Church, have come to see that ecumenical prayer is a beautiful witness to the uriity and brotherhood of mankind. The PersonabCommunity Tension Throughout what has just been said we can distill out, amongst other things, a tension between the per-sonal or the private and the communal or public that, it would seem, is the greatest in history. Whether, as some would say, in the past the person became lost in the group or, as others would say, the group bestowed per-sonal fulfillment on the individual, there did in fact seem less tension between the two. Some things were done privately, some together; there seemed litde debate about it all. Certainly, there have always been in reli-gious communities as in all societies this elemental con-flict between the individual and the collectivity, the age old philosophical and very real and practical problem of the one and the many. But the conflict was generally controlled in the area of religious prayer. Today we witness a tremendous development of per-sonalism, of emphasis on the dignity and integrity of the individual. Though there is around, even in our highly sophisticated society, a lot of compulsive conforming to group norms and tribal customs, there is a more wide-spread and more intensive insistence on the importance of the individual. Read the documents of Vatican II and the pronouncements of our own contemporary popes; read the Declaration of the Rights of Man of the United Nations; recall the Four Freedoms of a generation ago; note the contemporary emphases everywhere on the rights of conscience and on freedom of religion; look at the map of the world. Everywhere there is insistence on self-government of peoples, on responsible self-determi-nation of the individual. Truly we can call this the supreme age in history of the individual person. Paradoxically, we can also see that never before in history has there been more "community." This can be seen, at one level, in the communications explosion of our age, the mass media of communication, the break-down of barriers of space and time by jet and satellite. Although there is certainly not peace throughout the world, nevertheless as never before in history a political or diplomatic brushfire anywhere is watched with alarm lest it become a world conflagration. Even though all men are by no means brothers, there is a longing for universal brotherhood, and progress towards it, that are truly remarkable. There is a concern for the poor and the unlettered and the deprived of the world as never before. This is clearly evident on a more local level. Vast groups of our own population are outraged, not because + + Prayer Liye VOLUME ~8, ~tg&~ ¯ 751 + 4. 4. John W. Sta~o~d~ .$.V. REVI

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Lessons In Drawing, crayoning Pastel, China and Oil Painting. Geimau and French languages taught and -poken. Special attention paid to Klocutlon and Voice Culture. Normal course wit li Diploma for teaching. Strict attention given to Physical, social and Religious culture. Kee Mar college is located In a most attractive, refined, and healthful city of 14,00.) people. SEND FOK CATALOGUE AND JOUKNAL TO Ecv. 0. L. KEEDY, A. M., H. D., President, Hagorstown) Md. Coffees, Teas, Flour, Fish, and Canned Goods, Queensware, Glass-ware, e/c, etc. ■ ' f^Mi%ifMf, TltUNKS. I.KATIIHU (icons' AM) VALISES, 12 W. MARKKT ST., YORK, PA. Special Attention to Mail'Ofders. §I1©§®; "Isu. EMIL ZOTHE, Engravers Dies[g(tj6P anidj Wjmmfm%''g Jiewelev, 19 SOUTH NINTH STREET, • Opposite Post Office; PHILADELPHIA, PA. SPECIALTIES Masonic Marks, Society Badges, college Buttons. Pins, Scarf Pins, Stick Pins and Athletic Prizes. All Goods Ordered Through G. Z. Stnp. ■MHMMHRBMHMH ADVERTISEMENTS. Importers and Jobbers of «IDRUGS,I» Nos. 16 and 18 W. German Street, BALTIMORE, Offer to the trade their large and well-selected stock of Make a specialty to have on hand everything required by Pharmacists. A complete stock can at any time be selected or wants supplied. &•&■ ALONZO L. THOMSEN,^ RACK, WINDER SHARP AND LEADENHALL STS., P. O. Box 557, Baltimore, Md. I beg to call to the attention ot the Trade that I have re-cently added to my plant a complete set ol Drug Milling Ma-chinery of the most Improved pattern. GEQirft#SP-ANGLM, )(^rrJLZr3 No. 127 Chambersburg St., GETTYSBURG, PA. JOHN E. PITZER, MEMBER POST 9, G. A. R. 4H$S S€S83tT, —DEALER IN— Hats, Shirts, Shoes, Ties, Umbrellas, Gloves, Satchels, Hose, docket (Books, Trunks, Telescopes, (Rubbers, Etc., Etc. AMOS ECKERT. 0ITY HOTEL Gettysburg, Pa. JOHD, E, iu&HES, PROPfi Tins Hotf] is situated on Main street, one square I from 1\ and R. and W. M. R. B. Depots and within one-half minute's walk of the Diamond. Every room is heated, and lighted by electricity. 1'arlors on first and second floors. Bath and Toilet rooms I on second floor, gratis to guests. Rates $1 .50 to I $2.50 per day. Booms without Hoard 50 cents andl upward according to location. Excellent accommo-l dations for -50 people. Electric cars stop at the| door eveiy half hour. Livery Connected, with first-class Teams, and Battle-field| Guides at Low Hates. Dinner -with Drive over the Battle-field SI The College Metcufy. VOL. HI. GETTYSBURG, PA., APRIL, 1895. No. 2. THE COLLEGE MERCURY, Published each month during the college year by the Students Of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. STAFF. Editor : HENRY E. CLARE, '95 Associate Editors : SYLVESTER C. BERGER. '95. E. A. ARMSTRONG, '97. J. EDWARD BYERS, '95- GEO. F. ABEL, 'g7 WILMER A. HARTMAN, '95. HORACE M. WITMAN, '95. ROSCOE C. WRIGHT, '95. Alumni Association Editor: REV. D. FRANK GARLAND, A. M , Baltimore, Md. Business Manager: HARRY D. NEWCOMER, '95. Assistant Business Manager: I. O. MOSER, '96. mnT.™, /One volume (ten months). . . . $1.00 ILRMS. -jingle copies .15 Payable in aivancc. All Students are requested to hand us matter for publication. The Alumni and ex-members or the College will favor us by sending information concerning their whereabouts or any items they may think would be Interesting for publication. All subscriptions and business matters should be addressed to the business manager. Matter Intended for publication should be addressed to the Editor Address, THE COLLEGK MERCURY, Gettysburg, Pa. CONTENTS. EDITORIALS 19 IINDU GEOGRAPHY AND ASTRONOMY --- 20 LUTHER AS AN EDUCATOR --- 22 COLLEGE LOCALS 25 ALUMNI NOTES --- 29 TOWN AND SEMINARY NOTES 31 ATERNITY NOTES --- 32 | LITERARY SOCIETIES .---33 ATHLETICS --- 34 BOOK REVIEW - - - - - - - - - --35 S.ECENT GIFTS TO THE MUSEUM 35 EDITORIAL. THE business manager of the MERCURY wishes to thank those subscribers who re-sponded so promptly to the bills he recently sent out. It is frequently a very difficult mat-ter to collect subscription money and we are hap-py thus to be free of this unpleasant difficulty. The MERCURY certainly appreciates this mark of thought!ulness and assurance of support on the part of the Alumni and other subscribers. If the MERCURY receives the support it de-serves, it will abundantly repay the societies for their efforts in originating and conduct-ing it. * * * THE prospects for the present base-ball sea-son are unquestionably very bright. It is true that the material from which the team must be selected is rather scarce ; yet it is of such quality that it will be possible to decide upon a reasonably good nine. The oppor-tunity for Gettysburg to raise her standing in the college world is probably better this season than at any previous time in her athletic his-tory. In a few former seasons we may have had more and better material from which to select a team, yet the opportunity of showing off to any great advantage the skill we may have had was not nearly so favorable as in the present season. The number of games sched-uled for this season is greater than we usually have, and the standing of the institutions with which the games are to be played is decidedly higher. Hard work and loyal support from all hands is therefore extremely important. The manager cannot make the season a suc-cess unless the team enter heartily and earn-estly into the work. Neither can the team throw that enthusiasm and spirit into their work which is so essential to success unless ^■IHHMIHH 20 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. they receive assistance and encouragement from the student body. Let all help with hands and mouth to make this season a glori-ous success. Only hearty co-operation can make it such. *** WE were surprised not to see the Stars and Stripes waiving from the dormitory cupola on April 9th, the anniversary of "Lee's surrender to Grant." To have the flag unfurled over the spot where the General made his recon-noitre of the battlefield on that terrible July day of '63, would be a fit commemoration of his surrender at Appomattox. It is a day Ameri-cans should remember, especially Gettysburg people, who had sort of a personal acquaint-ance with the General. A better show of patriotism by the College on such days would not be amiss. For that purpose the new flag was purchased. * * * THE article, "Luther as an Educator," which was begun in the February number of the MERCURY but not continued in the March number on account of the sickness of the writer, will be completed in this number. * * * THE PRIZE SYSTEM.—That prizes are of-fered in all our institutions of learning to those students who attain highest degree of excel-lence in their studies argues in favor of the wisdom of the prize system. The student is encouraged to diligence and painstaking effort by the hope of reward. He is stimulated to greater exertion in the pursuit of knowledge. But there is an element of weakness in the prize system. They who seek knowledge for the "sake of the prize" are not genuine lovers of knowledge. They love the rewards of knowledge. To them wisdom does not have "price above rubies." Had the attainment of knowledge no reward to offer them they would be indolent. It is a question indeed whether or not he is a scholar who has gained knowledge merely for the sake of the reward, either in the prize which is given, or in the honor which it confers, or in the success which it makes possible. "Honesty is the best pol-icy," but he who is honest merely for the sake of policy is not honest at heart. He has not integrity of character. He who tells the truth merely because he finds that in the long run truth brings its own reward, is not really a truthful man. So he who studies merely for the sake of the reward which is offered, is not in the highest and best sense a true student. This is the element of weakness in the prize system. G. HINDU GEOGRAPHY AND ASTRONOMY. These subjects, though separate in our sci-ence, are inseparably allied in the monstrous extravagancies of Hindu science, falsely so called. It would be a waste of time and space to crowd these columns with their wild and ridiculous nonsense upon these subjects. Yet it may be worth while to give the reader an idea as to the unscientific, method of research employed by the ancient Brahmins of India. They claim that the physical universe is di-vided into fourteen spheres—seven superior. The first of which is our earth, and seven in-ferior ; consisting (with the exception of our earth) of immense tracts of space bestudded with the stars, the habitations of the gods, and rising in concentric circles not unlike the rings of Saturn. The seven inferior worlds form regular de-scending series, which, it is needless to say, are the abodes of wicked and loathsome creat-ures. Our own earth is said to be circular and flat like the flower of the water lily in which the petals project beyond each other. Its habit-able portions consist of seven circular islands or continents separated by different oceans. Its central or metropolitan island, the abode of | men, is called Jamba Dvvip. Around this rolls a sea of salt water ; next follows the sec-ond island and around it the sea of sugar-cane juice ; around the third the sea of spirituous THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 21 ) it e t-lis- j ts 3f| is c-le | L1S I liquors ; around the fourth the sea of clarified butter ; around the fifth the sea of sour curds ; around the sixth is the sea of milk. Then the seventh is on uninhabited land of pure gold, so immense that it equals the size of all the [islands and intervening oceans. It is begirt with a bounding wall of huge mountains, which enclose within their bosoms the realms of everlasting darkness. Now, for a conception of the size of this fantastic area of land and sea, the central [island is several hundred thousand miles in di-ameter, and the sea of the same breadth. The [next island and sea are each twice as broad as [the first, and so on for the rest of the islands land their seas until we come to the last. Just [imagine the huge size of our planet, which, in [diameter far excels the distance even of our [sun from us ! In the midst of the immeasurable plain, from Ithe very centre of Jamba Dwip, rises Su-Meru, [the loftiest of mountains, to the height of ■several hundred thousand miles in the form of fen inverted pyramid, having the summit two Ihundred times as broad as the base. This [summit is in turn surmounted with three swel-ling cones—the highest of these cones piercing Ithe upper spheres of vacancy with three golden peaks, which is the favorite residence of the sacred Triad.* At its base stand four lofty Els, on each of which grows a mango tree several thousand miles high, bearing fruit lany hundred cubits in length and sweet as lectar. From these mangos, as they fall, lows a mighty perfumed river, so sweet that lose who drink thereof exhale the odor from leir persons for a distance of several leagues. Phere also grow rose apple trees, the fruit of vhich, the size of an elephant, gives rise to another river which converts the earth over vhich it passes into pure gold. Such is a brief notice of the ideas of Geog-aphy furnished by the sacred writings. In turning to the upper world we obtain a limpse of Hindu Astronomy. The second * Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva as the Creator, Preserver and Destroyer. world of the ascending series, or that winch immediately overvaults the earth, is the re-gion of space between the earth and the sun, which is declared on divine authority to be distant only a few hundred thousand miles. The third in the upward ascent is the region of space intermediate between the sun and the polar star. Within this region are the plane-tary and stellar mansions. The distances of all the heavenly luminaries are given with the utmost precision, but would be of no value here. The moon is placed beyond the sun as far as the sun is beyond the earth ! Next suc-ceed, at equal distances from each other, the stars, and beyond them the planets Mercury, Venus and Mars. . Jupiter and Saturn are also at equal distances from each other, and beyond these the constellation of Ursa Major, and last of all, the Polar Star. The remaining four regions continue to rise at immense and in-creasing distances. The entire circumference of the celestial space is given with wonderful minuteness. In all these four superior worlds are framed mansions of surpassing beauty for the different orders of spirits. The seventh or last is destined for the abode of Brahma, the Lord and Creator, who rules over the whole universe. Such is the exceeding beauty of the palace, that one of the "divine sages" said that it would take two hundred years to enumerate its beauty, as it contains everything that is precious or beautiful or magnificent in all the other heavens but in a superior degree. What then must it be considering the magnificence and grandeur of some of these ! Glance at the heaven in only the third world prepared for Indra, the king of the different ranks and de-grees of the subordinate deities. Its palaces are "all of purest gold, so resplendent with vessels of diamonds and columns and orna-ments of jasper and sapphire and emerald, and all manner of precious stones, that it shines with a splendor exceeding the brightness of twelve thousand suns. Its streets are of purest crystal, fringed with fine gold. It is sur-rounded with a forrest of all kinds of trees and flowering shrubs, whose sweet odors are dif- ^■■iHHH^HMHHMMHH 22 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. fused around for hundreds of miles. It is be-studded with gardens and pools of water, warm in winter and cool in summer, richly stored with fish, water fowl and lillies, blue, red and white, spreading out on a hundred or a thou-sand petals. Winds there are, but they are always refreshing; storms or sultry heats be-ing unknown. Clouds there are, but they are light and fleecy and fantastic canopies of glory. Thrones there are which blaze like the corus-cations of lightning, enough to dazzle any mortal vision. And warbliugs there are of sweetest melody, with all the inspiring har-monies of music and of song, among bowers that are ever fragrant and ever green." Such is a brief description of the beliefs of the ancient Hindus regarding the universe. The reader will remember that these de-scriptions are not to be taken as figurative or emblematic, as is appropriate to a state of glory of whose nature and details the heart of man cannot conceive, but that they were un-derstood as they are taught, in the strictest literality. B., '97. LUTHER AS AN EDUCATOR. II. Thus, in all the world * * * * teachers have heen found necessary when a nation was to be elevated.—LUTHER. Luther is to be called an "educator" in vir-tue of what he wrote and advocated concern-ing education rather than in virtue of his work as a university professor. Among his writings the ones which bear directly on edu-cation are the address "To the Mayors and Aldermen of all the Cities of Germany in Be-half of Education," and the sermon on "The Duty ot Sending Children to School." In the prefaces to his catechisms are to be found many suggestions as to methods of teaching. From these writings we learn what his educational views were, but we get from them no light be-yond the theoretical. He was more than theo-retically interested, however, for we find him bearing, in 1525, a commission from the Duke of Mansfield authorizing him to establish two schools, one primary and the other secondary, in the town of Eisleben. These schools, we are told, became models "both in the course of study and methods of instruction'' for many other schools. As an educator Luther had a clearly de-fined ideal (the absence of which has character-ized many' of the educational efforts of the past). In this he takes the precedence of Herbart, one of the distinctive features of whose work was to inquire as to the end of education. To him it was ethical. Luther's end was the attainment of Christian manhood. Along with this ideal we find running an everpresent view of utility, now toward the church, now the state, but keeping away from sorditity at all times. This "practical bent" can be readily accounted for by considering the purpose his educational writings were intended to serve, and the times in which they were written. Before advocating any reformation in educa tional. matters, Luther surveyed the existing state of education and passed his critical ver-dict upon it. His actions in themselves would be sufficient criticism, but we have criticisms far more explicit referring to the several edu-cational agencies briefly spoken of in a previ-ous article. He says : "The universities are becoming weak, the monasteries are declin-ing." Again : "I should prefer that our youth remain ignorant and dumb rather than that the universities and convents should re-main the only source of instruction open to them." But, lest it be objected that those criticisms were from the religious rather than from the educational point of view, let him speak again: "Instead of good books, the senseless, useless books of the monks * * * so that the Latin language was corrupted, and neither good schools, good instruction, nor good methods of study remained." In this conviction concerning existing ediv cational efforts together with his conception of the possibilities and of the necessities of edu cation in relation to the welfare of both church and state we find the impulse of his educational efforts. They were unselfish efforts. This is very plainly shown by the element of devotion I THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 23 to both the church and the state which is man-ifested by his works. He was convinced that he was discharging a duty second to none as he worried and worked in this cause. It has been said that the German school system of to-day is but a realization of the ideas of Luther. In view of the rank now held by this system, in view of the attention it is receiving from educators of all lands, no greater encomium can be pronounced upon Luther's educational efforts. Nor does the statement appear overdrawn. In Luther's plan he provides three grades of schools—the primary school, the secondary school and the university—thus having a regular gradatiou from the time of the child's first entering school until the time of his completion of the university course. This is substantially the German system of to-day. 'Tis true, the sec-ondary school is quite complex, but this fact [does not disprove the presence of Luther's idea. In this plan we find that forshadowed which is clearly brought forth in his writings, i. e., universal education—the distinguishing feat-ure of Luther's work. He would have no dis-tinctions, whatever, made whereby any class would be deprived of the privileges of an edu-cation. In the light of what now exists, this seems a commonplace idea. But its true sig-nificance is seen when we remember that never before had it been advocated by any man nor had it been practiced by a State. We likewise feee its significance when, we remember that the masterly educational tractates written after Shis day, advocated education for the nobility, or, at best, for the gentility. In a previous ndB^ferticle we have seen how the education of girls iorHwas ver-V generally neglected during the mid-dle ages. (And yet it received more attention [then than at any previous time.) Luther trongly advocated schools for girls that they too might receive the benefit of education. As result of his work in this direction we find im, in a letter written six years after his ap-eal to the state authorities, rejoicing over the stablishment of girls' schools. If Luther had :r-ld| n-u-i-je n- IUI an re-to )se an im the advanced no idea besides the one of universal education—education for the common people as well as for the nobility—his portrait might justly hang in the gallery of educational re-formers. Strange as it may seem, Luther was an ar-dent advocate of state education. This idea was one which dates back to the educational; system of the Persians, and which had been successfully tried by the classic nations. But through the middle ages, after the time of Charlemagne, no evidence of state efforts is to-be found. It remained for Luther, a church-man, a religious reformer, to strike the first effective blow at the existing system of educa-; tion in subordination to the church. In his plea for state attention to education he goes so far as to argue for it "though there were no soul, no heaven, no hell, but only the civil government." He launched severe criticism against the Papists because they manifested no concern, whatever, in civil affairs, because their educational system tended to the cloister and to the priesthood almost exclusively. He did not lightly esteem home education. It was from no such reason he looked to the state. On the contrary he desired much teach-ing to be done in the home. But the condi-tion of affairs was such that home education could not be looked to to supply the demand: made by both church and state. He said that even if the homes could do it, some would not.' The majority of them could not do it if they would. And even if the homes were qualified to do it, duties and employments would leave no time for its accomplishment. Thus, the church being removed by his supposition and the home being unable to accomplish it, if ed-ucation is to be attended to at all, it must be at-tended to by the state. He went one step further and proposed that,when necessary, com-pulsory attendance should be employed by the slate. This movement, at the present time, is making steady progress. In due time so-ciety will reap the benefit of this seed-sowing time. Luther put the matter in a ver}r strong way. His way was: "But I maintain that 24 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. : the civil authorities are under obligations to compel the people to send their children to school.'' But we are disposed to look briefly at some other views he had, many of which are actual-ized in the pedagogy of the present day. The curriculum of studies proposed by Luther was a liberal one. In it, as is to be expected, he gives the first place to religion. Then follow the languages. Compayre laments that Luther wanted only the "learned languages, Latin, Greek and Hebrew." It is true he wanted all these and defended their place in the curricu-lum in a very forceful way. He was arguing against churchmen and used arguments which were of a churchly nature. What arguments he would have used under other conditions we can only conjecture. But it seems that this lament, which remains unannotated by the American editor, does Luther an injustice. His translation of the scriptures is in itself an evidence of his esteem for the vernacular. But we have other testimony. In his address to the Mayors, etc., he says: "Would to God each town had also a girl's school, in which the girls might be taught the gospel for an hour daily, either in German or Latin." And again, . to teach them reading and writ-ing in German a few hours daily." From these we cannot conclude otherwise than that he was an advocate of the vernacular, at least in the primary grade. But even that was a great stride in educational progress. He would have the "whole course in mathematics studied." The liberal arts of the middle ages he did not hold in very high esteem. He wished history and poetry, as well as both in-strumental and vocal music. His arguments in behalf of history are the very ones which led to its proscription by the Jesuits. In speaking of history and poetry he says: "How I regret that I did not read more poetry and history, that no one taught me in these branches. Instead of these I was obliged with great cost, labor and injur}7, to read Sat-anic filth, Aristotelian logic, and Scholastic philosophy, so that I have enough to get rid of it." To one interested in the trend of the peda-gogy of the present day there are in Luther's views several very significant points. He be-lieved in providing physical exercise and great freedom in the school. He says the young have for such things ' 'a natural (that trouble-some and all-comprehensive term) desire which should not be restrained." He also held that "by the gracious arrangement of God children take delight in acquiring knowl-edge." What do we have in this last sentence if not the doctrine of interest, as elaborated in later years ? It seems almost incredible that our present movement of nature studies could have found an advocate at such an early day. But can we question the fact when we hear Luther say: "We are at the dawn of a new era, for we are beginning to recover the knowledge of the external world * * !" He criticised Erasmus for a lack of interest in the mysteries of nature, saying: "Erasmus is indifferent and does not care to know how fruit is developed from the seed. * * Erasmus passes by all that, takes no account of it, and looks upon external objects as cows look upon a new gate." The employment of natural ob-jects in education is generally conceded as one of the hopeful promises of better things. In these views Luther is "a modern" in educa-tional affairs. Space bids us close. In the realm of methods Luther seems to have had many views which are approved at the present time. He was disposed, at times, out of his high esteem of teaching, to rank it above the minis-try. He regarded an experience in teaching as an essential factor in one's preparation for the ministry. "I would have no one chosen as preacher who has not previously been a school teacher." Nor was this experience which he desired that ofan unprepared teacher. He advocated their being trained and prepared before entering upon the profession. What "might have been" we do not know, but the best results of Luther's work for education were interfered with by the Thirty-Years War. When the history of education is written gi THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 25 Ifrom the standpoint of a gradual evolution, Luther's name must have a prominent place. A number of educators following him have I been influenced by him, but we- are able to ; find no educator preceding him from whom his ideas could have been borrowed, by whom [ they could have been suggested. He was a [pioneer in educational reform. His portrait jwas fittingly selected and placed upon the walls of that educational lecture room. H. P. COLLEGE LOCALS. J. EDWARD BYERS AND E. A. ARMSTRONG, Editors. Tennis! Baseball! Caps and gowns! New preps. "Any time after six." '95 on home stretch. Commencement on June 20th. Something new: (?) Ashen walks. "And the green grass grows all around." Required work in the "Gym" ends on 1st of lay. The important question : Who will be the fen commencement speakers ? _ F., '98, says he doesn't like to have Fellows sit on him. Says he prefers girls. Socio says the latest style in spring bonnets is to trim them without Bows. 'Pete" reports a pleasant vacation—lots of un and plenty of good times. Says the latest song in Baltimore is "Nay, O, my, me, O, my!" Work was again resumed on the new ath-letic field during the recent vacation. A full force has been steadily employed, and the Ivork is progressing very nicely. Though college closed on Friday noon, larch 22", "Kitzy" didn't leave Gettysburg |ntil Saturday morning. No reasons were £lven, but the following explains itself: BALTIMORE, MD. March 23, 1895. JEAR IKEY: Reached home safely this P. M. Was sick on the train. Had cramps in my right arm. Think my shoulder must be dislocated. Re-member me to all anxious and inquiring friends. Sincerely, KITZY. Mr. Josie Enniss, a student of Gettysburg College, is home for his Easter vacation.— Brunswick {Md.) Herald. We call him only Joe. Dr. B.'s latest: "What is the cheapest part of a man's face?" Ans.: "His nostrils—two for a scent." The class of '97 has now another reason for the boastful pride which it is continually man-ifesting, in the recent discovery of its happy fortune in possessing a married member. It was made kuown very unintentionally by Mr. S , who accidentally displayed a letter from one of the little ones, addressing him as "Dear papa." Say, Billy, which are your favorite hymns ? Billy W.: I have four: Nos. 235, 261, 330, 344. Look at them once and tell me if you don't think the tunes are charming. It manifests a woeful destitution in geo-graphical knowledge when, in reply to a few questions, a Freshman answers that Egypt is in Asia and that Sicily lies south-east of Africa. Atlases are cheap, Charlie, better get one. A little dog came to chapel the other morn-ing. Dr. H., apparently to justify the little fellow, said : "Now, I know that little dog will-behave himself, if the rest will." There is something wrong with Ikey's cal-endar— he observed passion week, March 28 to April 4. Services were held regularly from 7 to 10 P. M. In the preliminary contest held at the close of last term Kump, '95, was chosen as the one to represent our college in the ' 'State Inter- Collegiate Oratorical Contest" to be held in Lancaster, on the 27th of this mouth. At the same time Wright, '95, was also chosen as a second man. York County Academy is now preparing seven men who will enter the Freshman class next year. We already assure them a hearty welcome to all our advantages, and hope noth-ing will interfere with their purposes. That "smart Alec" C(K)ain is the way Dr. B. designates a famous biblical character. Our friend K., in '97, is indignant that his antedi-luvian ancestor should thus be spoken of. ^^■^■■^^■^■■■■■^■■iM^MBBMB^B^HBB! 26 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. Charlie B., '95, had occasion, recently, to refer to "The dead book." It must be quite an interesting volume. Echoes from the burglar alarm in dormitory during vacation: Waldo—Don't you think I'd better go to my room and get my pistol ? "Brady"—Gentlemen, this is a serious case. "Gov." be careful. Don't rush rashly into danger. Let me go up town and get a police-man. (Faints). Finch (badly scared)—Dear me, I wish I were home. Ikey (after excitement had subsided)—I wish I could have seen the burglar, but I had a pressing engagement that evening, and couldn't possibly be present. We have no knowledge of any instance when an animal spoke, have we ? Sem.—How about Baalam's ass? At a recent business meeting: Mr. Rietz—For critic, I nominate Barbe-henu. Freddy—Mr. President, I nominate her hus-band, "Die." Miller, '95, spent vacation with Leidich, '95, and together they visited many interesting points in Northern Berks County, making geo-logical and minerological investigations. They brought with them many fine specimens. Speaking of the merits of different kinds of bread, Brube remarked: "Yes, I like that steam bread. When I was home we always got our bread from the steam laundry." Dr. Stahley, who was sick and unable to at-tend to his college work for several weeks last term, we are glad to know has again returned from Easton, with regained health, and is now able to pursue his work again in his usual effectual way. Miller, Diehl, Leidich and Moser visited Kutztown State Normal during vacation, and were present upon the occasion of the anni-versary celebration of the Keystone Library Society, connected with the institution. They report having had a very pleasant time and having created quite a sensation among the ladies there. The delightful treat given each year to the Senior class was looked forward to by the present distinguished one with more than usual pleasure. The kind invitation to attend a reception given by Dr. and Mrs. McKnight was accepted by the class most heartily. It would seem as though it had some presenti-ment of what it was to enjoy upon that occa-sion, which will ever be cherished in happy rememberanee as one of the fondest recollec-tions of the class of '95. No effort was spared to make the evening one of pleasure and en-joyment. After spending a few hours in agreeable conversation, etc., the guests were ushered to the dining room, where they were served with such delicacies as would appease the palate of the most fastidious epicure. This sumptuous repast over, toasts followed. Our worthy president, Mr. H. E. Clare, act-ing as toastmaster, called for the following toasts in his natural, pleasing manner: "Our Host and Hostess," Witman; "Class of'95," Byers; "Our Future Career," Kump; "Our Stars," Richards; "Our New Athletic Field," Hartman; "Our Alma Mater," Bell; " '95 as Students," Dr. McKnight. Keffer and Keefer, as also Hollinger and Wiest, entertained for a while with beautiful selections on banjos and mandolins. Several choruses were sung by the class, after which they very reluctantly bade their kind host and | hostess "good night." The Senior Class has shown its college spirit I by deciding to wear caps and gowns during the | spring term and at all Commencement exer-cises. No class, heretofore, in the history of I the institution, has appeared in the academic robe, although we believe it had been partially adopted by a recent class. '95 is to be com-mended for the stand it has taken in reference | to this matter, as it will tend to elevate col-lege spirit and make the class ever remem-ber its last days in college. Let the example, so well set, be followed by '96 and succeeding | classes. It will lend dignity to our Commence- r ment exercises. White, '97, was unable to return on time on account of sickness, We miss him in his ac-[ customed place on the base-ball field as well as| in the class room. It was in Physiology that Dr. S. received | the following answers : ' 'What makes you stand up ? " Harney—"Because I must." In regard to the time when exercise shouldI not be taken, T. says, "It is never well to ex-j ercise before rising.'' And W., in answer toI the question, "When is it not good to go fisli-l ing," sagely replied, "When you can't get I bite." H. told the Dr. that it was better to ex-| THE COLLEGE; MERCURY. 27 ercise in the open air than in a closed room. Hope the Dr. will N. B. The Seniors are taking Natural Theology. It is said the earnestness of the professor rather startled the B. S. men who had never before recited to him. The "rattling" must [have been contagious as we hear of Dick talk-i ing learnedly of a ' 'human man.'' The Sems., who had been boarding at the (Hotel de McCullough, left in a body because the College boys there did not show the proper respect due to them as superiors. Sammie threatened to cut off his mustache Iduring vacation. We see him still nursing it [and it is rumored that he wears it "by re- Iquest" of his best girl. A normal class has been organized at Prep. The course of study to be pursued is modeled {after suggestions of Prof. Thoman. The course twill be a great help to those intending to take the coming county examinations. I At the end of last term several of the boys Book a tramp across the mountains. The Geol- [ogy class will 110 doubt receive the benefit of their observations. Miller.and Leidich '95, took in quite a large portion of Eastern jPennsylvania, getting specimens and visiting natural curiosities. C, Jr., (near close of last term)—"I wish kou fellows over there would keep quiet. I want to stud}'." Fellows across the hall—"What are you tudying ? " C, Jr.—"I'm trying to study out how to get home on the amount of money I have.'' Those of the boys who were lucky enough .0 get to the Phi Kho Mu reception at Irving, 0 April 3, report a very pleasant time. We ould, however, advise one of the boys who as there to carry a microscope which might nable him to tell the difference between real .nd artificial daisies. During the past vacation Isett, '98, gave a peaching in Johnstown Y. M. C. A. Hall and ssisted H. P. Ecker at an organ recital in Carnegie Hall, Allegheny City. He also re-hited at an entertainment given by the students mi King's School of Oratory, of which he is a graduate. As Mr. Kump was. going to the Chapel to lear the lecture delivered on April 9th, by the nan with that unpronounceable name, he hap-pened to glance up to his window in the dorm-itory and saw that his room was enveloped in flames. In less time than it takes to tell it, he and several others were on the third floor and, without raising a general alarm, succeeded in putting out the fire. It seems that the student lamp in the room exploded, scattering oil over the table, chairs and carpet. The table cover is a total wreck as is also the cushion which was used on Mr. K.'s office chair. Among the injured are the carpet and office chair. Perlie now lives in Gettysburg. City in-fluences are beginning to tell on him. He has already begun to drop ruralities and adopt town customs and accents. We have not yet had the pleasure of meet-ing "Baby Nixon." Nevertheless we were rejoiced to see him on the campus a few clays ago. He is the very picture of "Pop." The concert given by the musical clubs of the college on Monday night, March the 18th, was declared by all who heard it the best con-cert ever given in Gettysburg by these organi-zations. Considering this fact, it was unfor-tunate that the clubs received so little patron-age. The audience was the smallest ever present at a concert of this kind, but the ap-plause was very enthusiastic. The Glee Club acquitted itself especially well. Their rendi-tion of the closing "Serenade" was fine. The instrumental clubs received numerous encores. A small amount was realized on the debt of the clubs. The following is a list of students who en-tered Prep this term: R. O. Diehl, Bedminster, Pa.; R. A. Brandt, Lebanon; H. V. Kahler, New Port; G. O. Lutz, Boiling Springs; L. P. Young, Belle-ville; R. D. Clare, Abbottstown; M. C. Wil-liams, Robt. E. Good, C. W. Stock, Gettys-burg; Amanda E. Bennett, Seven Stars; John Hartzel, Gettysburg; Geo. B. Hoover, Brandts-ville: Emory Brame, Mattie B. Johns, J. L-Siever, Gettysburg. The following contributions to the contin-gent fund of Pennsylvania College are hereby gratefully acknowledged : Christ Church, Gettysburg, Eev. L. S. Black, §17.05; Seventh Street Church, Lebanon, Rev. P. C. Croll, 82.12; Elk Lick, Eev. E. S. Johnston, $5; Grace Church, Westminster, Md., Eev. P. H. Miller, $4.50; Salem charge, Westminster, Md., Rev. S. A. Diehl, §1; Chambersburg, Eev. E. H. Leisenring, $13.65; St. Paul's, Millersburg, Eev. B. F. Kautz, $2.50; St. Mark's, Baltimore, Md., Eev. W. H. Dunbar, D. D., $45; Harrisburg, (personal contribution) Eev. S. Dasher, $1; Hazleton, Eev. John Wagner, $15.08; St. 28 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. James', Gettysburg, Rev. A. K. Steck, $4.75; Christ Church, York, Rev. G. W. Enders, D. D. $0.50; Lebanon, Rev. W. E. Stabler, $27.26; Glen Gardner, N. J., Rev. A. A. King, $2.30; Ashland, Rev. G. \V. Fritsoh, $1.20; Williamsport, Md., Rev. M. D. Gaver, $3; Philipsburg, N. J., Rev. T. C. Pritchard, $5.60; Uniontown, Md., Rev. G. W. Baughman, $4; Frost-bnrg, Md., Rev. C. A. Brill, $5; Zion, Harrisburg, Rev. D. M. Gilbert, D. D., $46.56; Taneytown Trinity, Taneytown, Md., Rev. G. W. McSherry, $1; St. Raul's, Newville, Rev. J. J. Kerr, $2; Arendtsville, Rev. D. T. Koser, $4; Phoenixville, Rev. G. E. Faber, $3.28; St. Mark's, Hanover, Rev. C. M. Stock, $12; St. John's, Hagerstown, Md., Rev. S. W. Owen, D. D., $12.40; St. Peter's, York, Rev. T. B. Thomas, $1.50; St. James', Ashland, Rev. W. M. B. Glanding, $2.21; St. Matthew's, Schuvlkill Haven, Rev. D. M. Moser, $5; St. Paul's, Fasten, Rev. A. H. F. Fischer, $20; Messiah, Philadelphia, Rev. M. H. Valentine, $23; Mercersburg, Rev. L. A. Mann, D. D., $2; St. Paul's, Altoona, Rev. E. J. Metzler, $2.71; St. Paul's, Spring Forge, Rev. A. A. Parr, $37.35; St. Paul's, Allentown, Rev. J. A. Singmaster, D. D., $10; St, Matthew's, Reading, Rev. R. W. Hufford, D. D., $12.59; St. John's, Mahanoy City, Rev. I. P. Zimmerman, $4.5o; Holv Trinity, Berlin, Rev. S. J. Taylor, $4.85; Jeffer-son,* Md., Rev. S. A. Hedges, $2.87; Felton, Rev. E. Manges, $2.21; First Church, Carlisle, Rev. H. B. Wile, $26.54; Trinity, Germautown, Rev. L. E. Albert, D. D., $33; Aaronsburg, Rev. A. G. Wolf, $5.51; Zion, York, Rev. A. W. Lilly, D. D., $9.50; St. John's, Lancaster, B. F. Alleman, D. D., $5; Stoyestown, Rev. L. N. Fleck, $7.50; Leitersburg, Md., Rev. Victor Miller, $3.25; West Fairview, Rev. J. L. Nicholas, $2; Third Church, Baltimore, Md., Rev. I. C. Burke, $15; Trinity charge, York county, Rev. F. S. Geesey, S10.40: St. Paul's, York, Rev: W. S. Freas, $12 06. H. C. PICKIW, Treasurer. Y. M. C. A. NOTES. At the last business meeting of the winter term, the following officers were elected for the ensuing year. President, H. E. Glazier, '96 ; Vice Pres., W. E. Wheeler, '97; Cor. Sec, R. W. Woods, '98 ; Rec. Sec, J. W. Kraft, '98 ; Treasurer, I. O. Moser, '96 ; Reporter, H. D. Shimer, '96. The new topic cards for this term have been distributed. Those who have not yet received any may get them at the Y. M. C. A. Hall. The various committees of the Association have been appointed and a list of them may be found in the topic cards. We are glad to see the great interest which many of the boys are taking in the work of Foreign Missions. A special Missionary Study Class has been organized, whose pur-pose is to study the history of missions. The book used for study is Smith's History of Missions. Several members of the class have volunteered their service for the foreign field. All who are concerned about spreading the gospel news to the many millions of heathen who are now in utter spiritual darkness, may greatly benefit the cause by joining this class. Missionary work is honorable, ennob-ling, and worthy of consideration rather than a commonplace thing and a subject of ridicule. On Tuesday evening, April 9th, a very in-teresting address was delivered in Brua Chapel by Prabala Ramachandrayya Gam, B. A. Mr. Garn is a converted Brahmin and a native of Madras, India. He spoke on the "Religion and Society of India.'' The many who had the privilege of hearing him can attest to his superior intellect. He explained the various religious'beliefs that have been and are in his J native country, and showed wherein they are false and how they have degraded rather than elevated his countrymen. In conclusion he made an earnest appeal to all in behalf of for-eign missions. Mr. Garn's intention in coming to this coun-try is to become acquainted with our Ameri-can institutions and to awaken a missionary spirit among our people. During the coming I year he will visit the various institutions and congregations of the Lutheran Church under the auspices of the Board of Foreign Missions. | We insert the folllowing exchange article, hoping that it may be a warning to all our members and student friends. The writer! does not magnify things, but writes the plain, | unvarnished truth : After nearly four years' experience as pas-1 tor in a college town, I am convinced that I Christian students are more likely to suffer from the perils of college life than those whoj are not Christians. This is not paradoxical, for I the latter have nothing to lose, while the I former have everj'thing to lose. It requires! not only the same private watchfulness, prayer, [ self-examination and scripture reading to keep I oneself spiritually minded in college as it doesj at home, but the same faithful attendanceI upon all means of grace, the same prompt re-l sponsiveness to all calls to duty, the same ac-l tive participation in church work. A few mayl possess the native strength of character which I will enable them to exercise this deligence, de-f spite the demands of college work and the pe-1 culiar temptations of college life, but the aver-f age young Christian does not. Without the! safeguards which are afforded such by identi-l I fication with the church where extreme perilsl ' are to be met, what wonder if they yield to the| tendency to spiritual declension ? THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 29 I have seen the religious lives of many stu- [dents intensified by the stimulus of church as-jsociation which strengthened obligation, but I [have seen the religious lives of many more lessened in intensity, and some go out in utter I darkness because of a lack of this association [and obligation. More than one young man, the pride of his church, have I known to en- Iter college with the ministry in view, and in Ithat mistaken pride, pastor and church have [persuaded him that he could stand alone amid Khe perils of his new environment. I have [seen him throw off one moral restraint after [another, then put on the mask of hypocrisy, land finally fling this aside and openly and [shamefully walk in the counsel of the un-godly, stand in the way of sinners and sit in Ithe seat of the scornful. And, instead of go-ling out of college qualified for the holy office I which the church designed him to fill, he has ijone out qualified only to take a position be-lind a saloon bar or a gambling table. Do not pastors and parents who counsel lyouug men to spend several years of the most ■critical period of their lives without the aid [which immediate church relationship would afford them assume a tremendous responsibil-ity ?—College Pastor. ALUIV||\!I. GEO. F.ABEL, Editor. '43. Rev. Eloyd Knight, at one time pastor pf the Lutheran church at Hollidaysburg, Pa., lied at his home in Yutan, Neb., on March '45. Mr. Gilliard Dock, of Harrisburg, son bf the late Judge William Dock, died recently his 68th year. He was a merchant and a nanufacturer.—Ex. '47. Rev. Dr. Reuben A. Fink died at Johnstown, Pa., on March 25, in his 71st pear. '50. Rev. J. Kellar Kost is now living at faola, Fla. '52. Rev. J. S. Lawson is the editor of the Lutheran Monthly, published by the Lutheran congregations of Pittsburg and vicinity. '61. Rev. J. B. Reimensnyder, D. D., has titered upon his fifteeth year as pastor of St. imes Lutheran church, New York City. '61. Prof. J. Howard Wert, of Harrisburg, ?&., is editing a history of the Harrisburg ligh Schools. '62. The forthcoming Lutheran Commentary is under the editorial charge of H. E. Jacobs, D. D., LL- D. Among the contributors are Dr. E. J. Wolf, '63, and Dr. H. L. Baugher, '57- '62. Rev. J. Kistler will become pastor of the mission recently established at Riverton, a new town opposite Harrisburg.—Ex. '62. Rev. Dr. H. E. Jacobs has resigned the editorship of the Ltdheran Church Review, which he has held for twelve years. '70. Rev. A. G. Fastnacht is converting the three-story brick house on corner of Carlisle and Water streets, Gettysburg, into a double dwelling house. '71. Rev. J. Wagner's article on "Distinct-ive Lutheranism" in the Observer for March 8, ought to be read and pondered over by every Lutheran. '71. Rev. Chas. E. Hay has suffered the loss of his wife, Mrs. Flora E. Hay. '72. Rev. J. A. Koser, of Munc3r, Pa-! will begin his labors at Sioux City, la., on May 1. '72. Rev. W. E. Fischer, of Shamokin, Pa., writes : "I read the MERCURY with a great deal of pleasure and profit. The MERCURY is in every way a credit to its editors and the dear old College for which it speaks. May con-tinued and growing success attend it." We are grateful for the encouragement and believe a comparison with other college journals will corroborate what our friend has said. '73. AlbertS. Kemp, with'73 till the Junior year, died recently in Maryland. He had gone to the southern part of the State to have a surgical operation performed for appendicitis, and died under it. He was a Baltimorean and much interested in Gettysburg College. '73. Rev. T. J. Yost has accepted a call to the Lutheran Church at Cumberland, Md., and will enter upon his duties the first Sunday in May. '73. Rev. L. L- Sieber has moved to town. He was engaged in evangelistic work, and will probably make this his centre, at the same time educating his children. '74. Rev. J. A. Wirt, of Hughesville, Pa., has been elected pastor of the church at Des Moines, la. '74. C. J. Reddig, Esq., of Shippensburg, Pa., is treasurer of the Cumberland Valley Sabbath Association. 3° THE COLLEGE MERCURY. '74. Luther A. Burrell has introduced sev-eral important measures in the House of Rep-resentatives, and is becoming one of the most prominent members of the House. '74. Rev. F. W. Staley, of Middletown, de-livered his lecture, "An Hour's Ride With General Phil. Sheridan," before a large audi-ence in St. Paul's Lutheran Church, Allen-town, Pa., on March 7. It was thrilling, elo-quent, instructive and entertaining. '75. The eighth anniversary of the pastor-ate of Rev. E. D. Weigle, D. D., of the First Lutheran Church at Altoona, Pa., occurred on Sunday, March 31st. '76. Rev. S. E. Smith has been installed as pastor of the Lutheran Church at Puuxsu-tawney, Pa. '76. We have received an interesting letter from Rev. Geo. C. Henry, of Shippensburg, Pa. He and J. S. Alleman, of Harrisburg, are working hard to have a class reunion in '96. It is worth all the trouble it may take. '77. Dr. J. B. Scott has been appointed Medical Inspector for this county by the State Board of Health. '77. Rev. Benj. F. Kautz, of Millersburg, Pa., is very successful in his work there. He has one of the best Young People's societies in the State. '79. Rev. M. D. Gaver, of Williamsport, Md., was thrown from his buggy, recently, while driving from Hagerstown to his home. His horse became frightened and ran away. Mr. Gaver's shoulder was badly hurt. '80. Rev. C. W. Heisler now publishes the Denver Lutheran, a four page paper, and uses the entire space for his own congregation. '80. Rev. J. E. Maurer, of Allegheny, Pa., missionary president of the Pittsburg Synod, has been called to Boonsboro, Md. '82. C. W. Bingham, Esq., is president, and Luther A. Bremer, '83, secretary, of the Maryland Association of Linn county, la. '83. Prof. Huber Gray Buehler, of the Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, Conn., has de-clined to consider an invitation to take charge of the English department of the University School in Chicago. This is the third call from well known schools that Prof. Buehler has declined since he went to New England. A few months ago he was one of nine teachers, who were selected to form a permanent con-ference on the teaching of English in second-ary schools. The conference holds its meet-ings in Boston. '83. Rev. Dr. L. M. Kuhns, of Washing-ton, D. C, is conducting a Sunday School in the new town of New Alexandria, Va. '83. Rev. H. L. Yarger, the new field sec-retary of the Board of Church Extension, will close his pastoral labors at Braddock, Pa., in May. He will then make a thorough inspec-tion of all the lot property and real estate of | the Board in the West. '83. John W. Brown, Esq., of Lancaster, son of the late Rev. Dr. Brown, has been elected City Solicitor. '85. Rev. H. J. Hopeman, Dakota City, Neb., was recently presented.with a large ad-justable revolving study chair by his congre gatiou at Homer, Neb. '89. Grace Lutheran church, of Clarion, Pa., presented their pastor, Rev. H. E. Wieand, an elegant open-faced gold watch, as I an expression of good will. '91. Rev. Stanley Biliheitner was installed | pastor of the West Washington (D. C.) Luth-eran church, on Tuesday evening, March 19. '91. On Sunday, March 3, Rev. Aug. Pohl-man occupied the pulpit of St. Stephen's Ger-man Lutheran church, at Baltimore, and I preached an able sermon to a large and appre-ciative audience. '91. Dr. L. C. Peters' address in Philadel-phia is 2132 Oxford St. The Doctor is get-ting along splendidly. '92. Rev. H. E. Berkey has received a call to the Red Lion charge, in York County, Pa. '92. Mr. Frank Hersh, son of ex-Sheriffl James Hersh, has been placed in charge of the I night force of the chemical laboratories of the I Edgar Thompson steel works, at Braddock, I Pa. This is one of the largest of the Carnegie I plants and employs 4,800 men. '92. E. O. Keen is in the middle class of thel Seminary at Lancaster and stands very high in I his class. He is chairman of the Executive I Committee of the Inter-Seminary Missionary | Alliance. '92. H. H. Jones delivered the Undergradu-ate address before the Stille Medical Society, of the University of Pennsylvania, at its an-nual re-union recently. THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 3i '93- J- F- Kempfer was in town two weeks a^o. He is meeting with the same remark-able success in canvassing, which has always attended him. '93- John Hay Kuhns has a pleasing little article in the Observer of March 15, on ' 'Flowers in the Church." '93. C. W. Leitzell has taken charge of a mission at Murphysboro, 111., for six months. '95. H. L. Hoffman was awarded first place in tumbling in the Yale gymnastic contest, and received a fine silver cup for tumbling and ' work on the horizontal bars.—Ex. '93. Marion J. Kline has been appointed agent for the College to hunt up students. '95. C. W. Crawshaw recently paid a few days' visit to his old classmates at Gettysburg. We are always glad to see our old friends. TOW|\I AND SEWIINAFJY NOTES. S. C. BERGER, Editor. Iiff! TOWN. Hon. Marriott Brosius, of Lancaster, has accepted the invitation of Corporal Skelly Post, G. A. R., and will be the orator on next Dec-oration day. . Mr. Brosius is an eloquent and able man and a fine oration may be expected. The repairs to the Catholic church are about complete. Rev. Father Charles Koch, of Danville, has been appointed to fill Rev. Father Joseph E. Smith's vacancy, who has resigned. In tearing down the wooden portion of the McClellan House, one of the oldest buildings -in town, a number of old coins were found ; also receipts dating back to the early part of the century. A Public Reading Room has been opened in Buehler's Hall, on York street, for the profit and pleasure of the young men and young ladies of the town. Rev. Dr. T. J. Barkley recently completed the eleventh year of his pastorate of the Re-formed church of this place. Rev. Barkley has been very successful during these years, and deserves to be congratulated upon his ithful service and encouraging results. Extensive improvements are being made on the Central Hotel, Baltimore street. Miss Jennie Kalbfleisch has gone to Phila-delphia to teach in a kindergarten school of that city. Miss Pauline Wisotzkey is taking a normal course at Shippensburg. Miss Seebach, of Waynesboro, a sister of Julius Seebach, of the Seminary, was recently a guest of Miss Margaret Himes. Rev. Van Cleve preached for the Presby-terian congregation at Shippensburg during their late communion season. The Shippens-burg people were greatly pleased with the reverend, and the Shippensburg News pro-nounces him a "man of remarkable pulpit oratory.'' The new Episcopal church on Baltimore street will probably be completed this coming summer. On Thursday, March 28th, a convention of the Sunday School workers of Adams county was held in St. James Lutheran Church. Rev. C. J. Kephart, Secretary of the Pennsylvania State Association, was present, and also Mr. Geo. H. Seiler, President of the Fifth District, of which Gettysburg is part, and a number of other speakers. Mrs. L- B. Wolf has sailed for India to join her husband, who is a missionary in that dis-tant land. Proprietor Ziegler, of the Eagle Hotel, has issued a very unique and instructive pocket map of the Battlefield of Gettysburg. Mr. Ziegler is thoroughly acquainted with the field. J. A. Danner has issued the eleventh edition of his pamphlet on the battle and points of in-terest about the town. Mr. John Siebold, of Harrisburg, has been secured by Mrs. Huber to manage her drug store in this place. He is a gradate of the Baltimore School of Pharmacy. In pursuance of the action of the govern-ment creating a National Park at Gettysburg, a meeting of the stockholders of the Battle-field Association, was called April 10th, to authorize the transfer of their property to the United States. Major John Bigelow, commander of the fam-ous Ninth Mass. Battery, now of Minneapolis, was here over Sunday, March 12th. He was accompanied by Major Robbins. Wm. McSherry, Jr., has been elected an 32 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. active member of the American Catholic His-torical Society, at Philadelphia. Mrs. A. M. Rice, of Petrolia, Pa., State Lecturer and Organizer of W. C. T. U. work, will be in Gettysburg on the 22d and 23d insts. in the interest of the Loyal Legion and the Women's Christian Temperance Union work. SEMINARY. The celebrated lecture of Rev. Prof. T. C. Billheimer, on the "Holy Land," will be given in Brua Chapel, Tuesday, April 23d, under the auspices of the Missionary Society of the Seminary. The proceeds are to be used for defraying the expenses incident to the build-ing of the "Cold Spring Mission Church." Rev. H. E. Berkey, of the Senior class of the Seminary, has received a unanimous call to Red Lion charge in York county. Mr. Charles W. Leitzell has received a call from Murphysboro, 111., to which place he and his wife have gone. Rev. F. U. Gift will serve the mission church in Scranton, Pa. The speakers chosen to represent the Senior class in the Commencement exercises are as follows : J. W. Ball, Berlin, Pa. J. L. Frantz, Salem, Va. J. B. Markward, Scotland, Pa. E. E. Schantz, Geryville, Pa. The following arrangements have been made for the dedicatory services of the new building, which will take place on Wednesday morning, May 29th, during Commencement week. The dedicatory address will be delivered by Rev. Dr. Dunbar, of Baltimore, Md. Rev. Dr. Baum, of Philadelphia, President of the Board of Directors, will preside and will speak to the assembly. Gov. Hastings has consented to be present and to address the meeting. The dedication is looked forward to with much in-terest and a large number of friends of the institution are expected. The place for the dedication services has not yet been decided, and will depend, perhaps, on the state of the weather. If the weather is clear a platform may be erected, if not, then the chapel will be used. In St. John's Lutheran church, Lancaster, which was dedicated on the 10th inst., there is a memorial window, "Paul Revealing the Unknown God to the Athenians," in memory of the late Rev. Dr. James Allen Brown, form-erly chairman of the Faculty of the Seminary. —Star and Sentinel. The new Chapel was used for the first time on Good Friday. Dr. Billheimer preached in Dr. Baum's | church, Philadelphia, Sunday, April 14th. R. H. Williams who had been south for J some time, on account of his health, returned on Good Friday, physically improved by his trip. W. H. Nicholas preached in his church, St. Andrews, of Philadelphia, Sunday, April 14th. The pipe organ has been in use for several I weeks. It gives good satisfaction and presents | a handsome appearance. Ff^ATRNiTY NOTES. WILMKE A. HARTMAN, Editor. PHI KAPPA PSI. Bro. Keefer did not return to college until I the 6th, owing to a wedding in the family. Bro. Keffer attended the meeting of the Ex-ecutive Committee of the Inter-Collegiate I Athletic Association of Penn'a., which was| held at Harrisburg on the nth. During vacation Bro. Richardson played on I the Columbian College nine, which defeated the | team from University of Vermont. Bro. Carty visited his home in Frederick, | Md., on Good Friday. Bro. Lark attended the entertainment and | reception given at Irving College on the 3d. PHI GAMMA DELTA. Bro. J. B. Markward, '91, assisted Rev. J.l C. Koller, of St. Matthew's Church, Hanover, | during the Easter services. Bro. Geo. C. Baum, '93, received thirdI mention in the Boz art competition for school | design in the architectural department of U. P.f Bro. F. H. Knubel, '93, returned to Serai! nary last week after a short visit to his home| in New York City. Bro. John Hoffer, '94, is now with Holt &| Co., Flour Commission Merchants, at 951 Broad street, N. Y. Bro. D. A. Buehler, '90, of Philadelphia, visited friends in Gettysburg last month. THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 33 Bros. H. L. Stahler, E. H. Leisenring, and H. C. Alleman were recent visitors to Gettys-burg and College. Bro. C. H. Shaar, '96, spent Easter with his parents at Steelton. PHI DELTA THETA. Bro. Forney spent his vacation very pleas-antly as the guest of several members of the Dickinson Chapter. Bros. Forney and Kain attended the recep-tion at Irving College, Mechanicsburg, Pa., on the night of April 3d. Bro. Maynard spent a part of his vacation with friends in Greencastle, Pa. Bro. Eckels was the guest of Bros. Zeigler, Barndt and Van Camp, Alumni of our Chapter, now in Philadelphia, several days last week. The annual Chapter Letters now out show continued prosperity in all of the sixty-eight. ALPHA TAU OMEGA. Bro. E. Leonard Koller, '98, was initiated on the evening of March nth. Bro. Ennis, '97, spent his vacation in Wash-ington, D. C. Bro. Michler, '97, spent a few days of his vacation with Bro. Bacon, of Harrisburg, Pa. Bro. Chas. G. Bikle, of the Senior class in the Seminary, preached at Oristown, Pa., Sun-day, March 10th. Bro. Menges, at York, Pa. '96, spent Easter with friends Bros. P. W. Koller, E. L. -Koller, '98, and Bikle spent Easter at their respective homes. Bro. James A. McAllister, '98, spent a few days with his father at Harrisburg, Pa. SIGMA CHI. Bro. Heindel, '96, spent his Easter vacation very pleasantly in New York City with Bro. Bixler, '98. While there he visited Bros. Wendt, Damuth and Sigafoos. He also paid a welcome visit to the Nu Nu Chapter at Co-lumbia College. Bros. Leisenring, Monath and Wendt, re-cently paid a flying visit to Hanover. Bro. Bixler, '98, of New York City, paid us a welcome visit at the opening of the Spring term. Bro. William Hersh, '91, was iinanimously re-elected Borough solicitor for Gettysburg at the recent election. The term of Bro. C. M. Stock, '74, of Han-over, as Eminent Commander of the York Commandery, No. 2, Knights Templar, has. just ended. As a token of appreciation, a fine gold post commander's badge was presented to him by the Commander}'. We were very sorry to hear of the deaths of Bros. Martin G. Lilly, '84, of York, Pa., and Albert S. Kemp, '71, of Havre de Grace, Md. The former was in partnership with W. H. Von Mengerinhausen as consulting mechani-cal engineer, and the latter was engaged as a book-keeper for Mr S. J. Seneca's extensive business. They were both very industrious and energetic in their respective positions, and with bright prospects of success. By their deaths, we lose two very active and loyal "Sigs." Bro. Edward C. Kershner, '90, of New York City, Medical Inspector of the U. S. Navy, is now also Fleet Surgeon of the North Atlantic Squadron under the command of Admiral Meade. A few clays ago while the vessel was off Georgetown, Barbadoes, at an-chor, Dr. Kershner received a message to at-tend a poisoned sailor on a Nova Scotian ves-sel in the harbor. But he refused to go for the reason that they were in quarantine, and that deadly fevers infested the region. For his actions, Admiral Meade wrote a scathing letter to Dr. Kershner, and reported the case to Secretary Herbert of the Navy, in which he asked for the Surgeon's removal for coward-ice. The case was investigated by Secretary Herbert and he upheld Dr. Kershner in every particular, and required Admiral Meade to apologize to the surgeon for his letter of rep-rimand. We highly commend the Bro. for his firm stand. LITERACY SOCIETIES. ROSCOE C WRIGHT, Editor. The preliminary contest to decide who shall represent our College at the inter-collegiate oratorical contest, was held in Brua Chapel Thursday evening, March 21. W. A. Kump was selected as principal, and R. C. Wright as alternate. The Judges were Hon. Edward McPherson, the Rev. A. R. Steck and C. E. Stable, Esq. The following were the speakers and their subjects. *0. O. LEIDICH, . - "The Beauty of History." 34 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. fW. A. KUMP, "Defeated Victors." *W. A. HARTMAN, - - - "Courage of Conviction." *I. O. MOSER, - "Our Public School System." tR. C. SMITH, "The American Eagle. ' *R. C. WRIGHT, - "Patriotism and Politics." tJ. E. BYERS, "Efficient Education." * Phrenakosmian. t Philomathean. Both Societies have made additions to their libraries. The latest works on Sociology, Evolution, History, Travel and Political Science have been purchased. PHILO. Friday evening, March 15, was "Senior Evening," The following program was ren-dered : Piano Solo, --- Composed by Erb. Welcome, - - . Feldman. "Influence of the Study of Literature," - - Barbchenn. "Demand for College Men," - - Witman. " '95's Social Life," --- Crilly. Quartet, - Erb, Keffer, Kump, Witman. "The Value of Literary Societies," - - -' Byers. "Reminiscences," - - Erb. Cornet Solo, --- Keffer. DEBATE. Resolved : "That Students Should Participate in College Gov-ernment." Affirmative: { *™ Segaiive. j g"**^ Piano Solo, --- Mcisenliclder. Prophecy, "Our Literary Future," - - - Richards. Farewell Poem, - - - Written by Wert. Valedictory, - Kump. Duet, --- Byers and Wert. The following officers were elected April 5 : President, Wert; Vice President, Baum; Corresponding Secretary, Ritter; Recording Secretary, Buck; Treasurer, H. R. Smith; Librarian, Crilly; Assistant Librarian, Stup; Critic, Byers. PHRENA. SPECIAL PROGRAMME. The following historical program on the popular subject "Napoleon," will be rendered in Phrena. Hall, on Friday, April 26th at 7.30 P. M. ESSAYS. "The Early Life of Napoleon," - Vichl. Historical Sketch, - - Glazier. " " - - - - - - ffoover. "The Empress Josephine," - Mnch. ORATIONS. "The Personality of Napoleon," . Leidich. "The Retreat from Moscow," - Longamckrr. "St. Helena," - - - Bell. Declamation—"Waterloo," - Bikle. SELECTIONS. -Resolved, "That Napoleon was a tyrant, usurping and devoting his power to the promotion of his own aggrandizement." Affirmative. Negatiir. MAYNARD, CLARE, MOSER. MILLER, ATHLETICS. HORACE M. WITMAN, Editor. Saturday, April 20th, New Windsor College | at Gettysburg. It has been decided by the State Inter-Col-legiate Athletic Association that the meet shall I be held at Harrisburg some time in May. If | at all possible, Gettysburg should be repre-sented. The nearness of the place of meeting I is an inducement to enter, and it also makes it| important that we should enter. Let the ath-letic men come out and we can yet send a team | to Harrisburg. An invitation has been received from Lehigh to join in a tennis tournament, to be held at | South Bethlehem next month. About ten col-leges are to participate. It has been decided I by the College Athletic Association to send I representatives in singles and doubles and I a preliminary will be held shortly for the pur-1 pose of selecting them. The move Lehigh hasj taken is a splendid one and should be contin-ued. STATE COLLEGE VS. GETTYSBURG. Score: 6-5. The initial game of the base ball season wasl played with State College on the home grounds! Saturday, April 13. The wet field and lower-[ ihg weather were not the choicest conditions I for the best ball, but the game proved an ex-| ceedingly well-played and interesting one| throughout. According to what seems to have become anl established custom, in all contests with ourl friends from State, we lost. In this instance,! at any rate, it must have been force of habit,! for it was by the purest chance that we did not! win by 5-3. This was the score when State came to thel bat to close the ninth inning. The first twol men were easily disposed of. Then came \ man by the hoodoo name of Brown, who! rapped an easy fly to left field. It was well for him and his team that he hit that ball asl he did; for if it had gone back to the cindetl path, or over to the observatory, or anywherel THE COLLEGE MERCURY. 35 that our brilliant left-fielder might have made a hundred-yards clash for it, that game would have ended suddenly and the college bell would be ringing yet. As it was, however, the fly was so easy and sure that a most rare thing happe re 1—the left fielder muffed a ball. After that three hits were made, and the game was won by the visitors. The playing of both teams was of a very high order. The batteries did especially good work, and the general all-round fielding was most excellent. Particular mention might be made of the out-field work of Brown, Richardson and Leisenring, all of whom caught some very difficult flies, after running long distances. In the in-field, Thomas and Rice, for State, and Keefer, Sheely and Gilbert for Gettysburg, excelled. Con.'i lering that it was the first game of the season lor us, we have reason to congratulate ourselves on the lesult. The college has ma-terial for a very strong team, and we may yet hope that "fortune will smile upon us" more pleasantly in our future games and, particu-larly, in the ore with State. The score and summary follow: STATE COLLEGE. GETTYSBURG. Stuart, 2b 2 Rice, s s 1 Walker, 3b & p 1 Greenland. If o Hays, c o Nesbit. p 1 Painter, lb & 3b. o Thomas, cf. & ib. 1 Brown, rf o Kisenher^. cf o R. ill o A. E.I 1 Iveisenring. If. 2 1 1 Sheely, ib 010 Keefer. 3b 3 o 1 Tate, c o o 800 Richardson, cf I o 010 Stiinmel. p 1 o 800 Gilbert, 2b 2 2 o o o Kckt-ls, s. s 1 1 300 Hartzell, rf o 1 000 Smith rf o o R IB. o. A. E. o 3 2 7 T 1 ^ 533 6 o o Totals 6 9 27 6 3 Totals 5 7 26*12 3 *Two men out when winning run was made. SUMMARY. Earned runs—State. 1; Gettysburg, 2. Two-base hit—Walker. Three-base hit—Sheely. Bases >toleu—Stuart. Sheely, Keefer. Bases on called balls—Gettysburg, 1. Hit by pitched ball— Walker. Hays, Sheely. Struck out—By Nesbit, 2; by Walker, 6; by Stiinmel, 6. Passed balls—Tate, 1. Time of game—1 hour 45 minutes. Umpire—Kuendig. Gettysburg. 'ECCK REVIEW." A Text Book of Chemistry intended for the ' use of Pharmaceutical and Medical Students, Samuel P. Sadtler, Ph. D., and Henry Trim-ble, Ph. D., Piofessors of Chemistry in the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy. Pages [950, J. B. Lippincott Companv, Philadelphia, 1895. As the title indicates this volume presents the general principles of chemical sciences with the applications having a special bearing on the twin subjects of Medicine and Pharmacy. The work is complete and adequately covers the fields of Inorganic, Organic and Analytical Chemistry and will prove of great service to students, for whom it is intended. E. S. B. REOENT GIFTS TO THE MUSEUM. S. G. Valentine, Ph. D., '80, a number of minerals from Cornwall Mines and elsewhere. Mr. Charles Laubach, Reigelsville, Pa., jas-per quartz from Durham Mine, iron ore from Elva, lime stone, with ripple marks. Diehl, Leidich and Miller, '95, lime stone, slate bearing pyrite. Bell, '95, jasper from South Mountains. "PONY." Freshman had a little "pony," With a greenish, yellow hide, And whenever Freshman studied Greek, He also took a ride. He rode it into class one day, Which was against the rule, It made the fellows laugh and play, To see a "horse" in school. And so the 'lessor kicked hi in out, But still he lingered near, And graz'd contentedly outside Till Freshman did appear. What makes the horse love Freshman so ? His classmates all did cry; Because the Fresh loves horse, you know, The 'fessor made reply.—Ex. We give below "The Classical Version" of this old "Cat Tale:" OLD VERSION. The cunning old cat Lay down on the mat. By the fire in the oaken hall. "If the little mice peep They'll think I'm asleep!" And she rolled herself up in a hall. Nibble, nibble, nibble, Went the little mice. And licked their little paws. But the cunning old cat Sprang up from the mat, And caught them all in her claws. THE CLASSICAL VERSION. An ancient, crafty specimen of the worthy feline race Reclined upon the hearthrug, with a stately, cat-like grace; 36 THE COLLEGE MERCURY. Within the grand apartment, with its polished, oaken wall, By the miniature conflagration she circled like a ball, And thus she meditated, as she feigned to be asleep: "If tiny rodents should arrive to take a little peep, They'd imagine me in dreamland"—just then a gentle tap; In came the mice diminutive, and puss resumed her nap (?), But e're the tiny rodents could salivate their paws This wicked, crafty feline had clutched them with her claws! A. W., '99. Puella pulchra, I.uua clara, Ad studenti O quatn cara !—Ex If Mary's snowy little lamb Back to the earth would hie, The jokes he'd see about himself Would make him glad to die.— Ex, "I dote on oaks," said the languishing maid, "So noble, so stately, so few; Tell me now, Mr. Jones, what's your favorite tree?" And he answered tenderly, "Yew." C^^Ct^C^ j|j The Standard for All. | Columbia | Bicycles ®® ®®®®®®®® ® ® ®®®®® ® Highest Quality of All. Have you feasted your eyes upon the beauty and grace of the 1895 Columbias ? Have you tested and compared them with all others ? Only by such testing can you know how fully the Columbia justifies its proud title of the "Standard for the World.'- Any model or equipment your taste may require. $ J QQ POPE MFG. CO. HARTFORD, Conn. Boston, New York, Chicago, San Francisco, Providence, Buffalo. An Art Catalogue of these famous wheels and of Hart-fords, $80$60, freeatColum-bia agencies, or mailed for two 2-cent stamps. ®®®®®®®®®®®®®®® ®® ®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®® G. H. BUEHLER, Agent, Gettysburg, Pa JOHN L. SHEtfDS. NEW OIGAR STORE Next door to W. M. 'Depot, Gettysburg, fa. YOHN BROS., _Sol© j\cjonts FOP_ 3f\ r\ ab©, Hardi"qai-), Yose, ©oqoVop, Seb,u.b©pt, AND OTHER PIANOS. jHLilldp, Harqlir), IPaol^apd, ©b,i©ago ©ottage, AND OTHER ORGANS. MUSIC >ND MUSICAL MERCHANDISE. We Guarantee satisfaction in Tnning, Renolisliing and Repairing. No. 307 Market Street, HAR3ISBURC, PA. ^|I-2C-L BAKERY]^ Baltimore Street, South of Court House. GETTYSBURG. YORK STREET, poeeHes f® — Jvueenswa'pe, And evetyihing kept in a first-class store. BARBERSHOP, Carlisle^St., bel'pw Centre Square, Hi W. LONG, Prop'r. ADVERTISEMENTS. A. Q. Spalding & Bros., k flfHLETK SUPPLIES. M®3 Base Ball,—Lawn Tennis,—Golf, UNIFORMS FOR ALL SPORTS. ___ 7*Rids the Sp^d^nS B^Fcle> '^fi/'>(^l=•'y•, . \r 27/.E i£.I 7>.&K KXR 7SS5. o Handsomely Illustrated Catalogues Sent free NEW YORK. PHILADELPHIA. CHICAGO. IJ. E. BOYLE, OF LEECH, STILES & CO., THE PHILADELPHIA EVE SPECIALISTS, HORACE PARTRIDGE CO., 335 Washipgton St.,, BOSTON, MASS-mm iAtJiiwii tsif.feil

Issue 64.2 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; Faith Perspectives Taking Account Religious Life Holy People QUARTERLY 64.2 2005 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with, God, dialogue witt~ ourselves, and dialogue with one . another about the l~olin~ess~w~e try tolive' ~ ~ according to charisms of Catholic religious life,,; As Pope Paul VI said, our Way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ 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 ° St. Joseph's Provincial House 333 South Seton Avenue ° Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2005 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. view for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Webmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB M~ry Ann Foppe 7Fracy Gramm Jiady Sharp ' Clare Boehmer ASC Steve Erspamer SM .Kathleen'Hughes RSCJ Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Lot~is and Angela Menard Bisl~op Terry.Steib SVD Miriam -D. Ukeritis CSJ :'. QUARTERLY 64.2 2O05 contents 116 prisms Prisms faith perspectives Reaching the Alienated Heart: An Interpretation of the Descent into Hell Dennis J. Billy CSSR examines our creedal profession that Jesus "descended into hell" and finds an understanding for our contemporary human experience. 129 Feet First into Resurrection Bonaventure Stefun OFMCap delves into the significance of the Christian action of the washing of the feet in its sacra-mental way of relating us to the risen Christ. Reflection and Discussion 11,4] 135 152 taking account Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests James F. Keenan SJ writes as a moral theologian to propose four ethical rights that would seem to need recognition for the healthy communio of the church. Faith and Solidarity in Action Anne Munley IHM presents a summary overview of the May 2004 plenary session of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG) dealing with the ministry of reconciliation. Review for Religious 159 Women Religious in Treatment for Addictions Millie Cargas describes art therapy and its effectiveness in therapy programs. 168 Asceticism and Chaste Celibate Love 177 184 194 Vilma Seelaus OCD unites chaste celibate love with an asceticism that enlarges the heart to receive a greater outpouring of God's love, which then flows more freely through us into the lives of others. Prayer hoOy people Snapshots of Three Lesser-Known "Saints" Robert F. Maloney CM sketches in brief detail the lives and deaths of three Catholics who continue to call us to witness to our faith. Learning to Live Serenely: The Wisdom of FFancis de Sales Juliana Devoy RGS reintroduces us to the sage advice of Francis de Sales in the ordinary daily living of our Christian lives. Reflection and Questions Good and Bad Zeal, Good and Bad Spirits Joseph I. Cisetti notes that, while distinct, the teaching of St. Benedict on good and bad zeal and the instructions of St. Ignatius on good and bad spirits bear similarities useful for both personal discernment and pastoral ministry. Reflection Questions ~ 201 206 ]epartrn r s Scripture Scope: Reading the Acts of the Apostles Canonical Counsel: No More, No Less, and No Other . 212 Book Reviews 64.2 200Y prisms Te title of the apostolic letter "Stay with Us, Lord," published on the occasion of the October 2004-October 2005 Year of the Eucharist, repeats the request that the two disciples gave to the stranger as they made their way to Emmaus on that first Easter Sunday. Each year we seem to enter anew into the full challenge of our asking the Lord "to stay with us" as we move into the Easter and Pentecost seasons .and the Ordinary time of our Christian living that follows. Every Eucharist we celebrate brings home to us our relating to the Risen Lord in his sacra-mental presence. As we know from our scripture readings in the Easter season, Jesus seemed to move in and out of the disciples' lives. His alter-hating presence and absence prompted Peter and some of the other apostles to go back to their trade of fishing, which provided the occasion for a picnic breakfast at the seashore. Perhaps over and over again we may have heard the apostles and disciples begging "Stay with us, Lord." The Risen Lord does "stay" with his eucharistic stance of offering himself totally in love to God his Father and of giving himself R~ie'w for Religio~s totally in love over into our human hands. The once-event of crucifixion is removed from the boundaries of time by the very person of Jesus now risen and "stay-ing" with us day after day. Each celebration of the Eucharist calls forth our recognition of this nearness of Jesus, inviting us to be with him in this love-offering. Eucharistic adoration outside of Mass continues to chal-lenge us to recognize Jesus' presence not so much as merely "staying" with us but rather as continuously offer-ing himself in love totally to the Father and to us and always inviting us to fully integrate ourselves into his sacrificial (that is, "making holy") action. "Stay with us, Lord"--heartfelt as the plea is--needs more humbly to be prayed as "Let us be where you are, Lord." Our greatest desire is always to be where God is; we do not smugly ask God to take the trouble to come to where we prefer to be. By God's grace and calling, some women and men, often hermits or consecrated religious, have dedicated their lives to Eucharistic worship. They have given their lives to "stay" with the Lord. But for the most part we ordinary Catholics find that life is spent in many activities, working for a living, being helpful and hospitable, planning, coping with setbacks, involved with family or community, with limited time for church celebrations and Eucharistic devotions. Are we slow to expect Christ to "stay with us"? .If we are, why not prayerfully seek to "stay with Jesus" as he continues to be active everywhere in this busy world of ours? Then we realize the 'truth of the Eucharistic action: Jesus is the One inviting us to be With him in his love offering to God and to others. Our. prayer is: "Let me stay where you are." David L. Fleming SJ 117 64.2 2005 faith perspectives DENNIS J. BILLY Reaching the Alienated Heart: An Interpretation of the Descent into Hell The doctrine of Christ's descent into hell after his suffering and death on Good Friday conveys some important truths about the meaning and scope of the paschal mystery. To understand this doctrine, we must distinguish its theological for-mulation from the underlying truth it seeks to express. Also we must put aside any prejudices that would prevent us from probing this doc-trine for its full worth and must open our hearts to its deep spiritual wisdom. My purpose in this essay is to explore what the Apostles' Creed means when it says that Jesus "descended into hell" and to see this teaching's impact on our lives today. Christ's Redemptive Self-Emptying As we begin, note that the descent into hell makes sense only if we examine it in the con-text of the creed's other affirmations about Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor to our pages, writes from Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. Review for Religious Christ, especially those related to his plan of redemp-tion. The Apostles' Creed, we are told, "is rightly con-sidered a faithful summary of the Apostles' faith" and constitutes "the oldest Roman catechism." 1 Since all of the church's teachings about Christ are closely related, just where this particular doctrine appears in the creed can tell us much about its overall function in the faith of the early church. When looking at the surrounding words, we see that Jesus' descent is placed between affirmations about his suffering and death ("he suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried") and the proclama-tion of his resurrection ("on the third day he rose again"). If the early Christians considered entering the realm of the dead a natural outcome of Jesus' passion and death, then rising from the dead preceded his ascent into heaven. This immediate context tells us that Jesus' descent into hell occupies an important place in the over-all narrative of Jesus' redemptive journey. If it did not, it would never have been placed at the very heart of the creed's Christological affirmations. The preceding and subsequent Christological affir-mations in the Apostles' Creed make this even more apparent. Earlier we affirm that Jesus is the only Son of the Father, that he was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. Later we affirm that Jesus ascended into heaven, sits at the right hand of the Father, and will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. The creed's entire Christological narrative, then, looks something like this: incarnation, birth, suffering, death, descent into hell, resurrection, ascent to the Father's right hand, return in glory, final judgment. Along with the resurrection, Jesus' descent into hell lies at the center of the narrative of human redemption. It is the last action of Jesus' redemptive self- 119 64.2 200~ Billy ¯ Reacbing the Alienated Heart emptying and the point from which his transformation and glorious ascent begins. rOse,ore the dead, ' ascended into heave " allows for somb latit de: about how these forrnulation " " should be ftnderstOod. ,:, Formulation and Truth At this point some pivotal questions arise. What is the correspondence between the statements in the Apostles' Creed and the truths they express? Is this brief narrative of Jesus' redemptive mission meant to be taken lit-erally? Does it reveal certain truths about Christ's redemptive action that can be removed from their present theological formulations in the hope of uncovering deeper, even more penetrating insights into the mystery of the Christ event? Is it possible to uncover the underlying truths of the creed without doing damage to the tradition by which those truths have been passed down? There are no simple answers, to these important and enigmatic questions. Some statements in the creed are affirmations of historical fact and require a close con-nection between the formulations themselves and the truths they .state. To say that Jesus suffered, died, and was buried, for example, leaves little room for discus-sion. Either these affirmations happened or they did not. The historical events to which they refer must be either accepted or denied. Other statements in the creed, however, are affirma-tions of faith that cannot be historically verified and thus Review for Religious offer more leeway in distinguishing between their for-mulations and the truths they disclose. To say that Jesus rose from the dead or ascended into heaven allows for some latitude about how these formulations should be understood. What do we mean when we say someone has risen from the dead? What is our understanding of ascension? What is our understanding of heaven? Unlike the notions of suffering, death, and burial, these con-cepts have no historical precedents with which to com-pare them. Given these possibilities, theologians need to discern with care the nature of the particular creedal statement before them and then determine to the best of their abil-ity the relationship between the formulation itself and the truth it uncovers. While a certain logical gap will probably always exist between the formulation and the truth to which it points, the gap will likely vary from one doctrinal formulation to the next. Understanding Jesus' Descent Like the doctrines of Jesus' resurrection and ascen-sion into heaven, the creedal affirmation of Jesus' "descent into hell" allows for a certain amount of dis-tance between its theological formulation and the truth it expresses. After all, there must be more to this doctrine than the image it conjures.in our minds of a literal, spa-tial descent by Christ into the dark and gloomy under-world of the now outdated Hebrew worldview. What about the astonishing message of God's undying love for the world? Most would agree that hell is not so much a place as a state of being, one completely alienated from God. In our reinterpretation of hell, the focus should be on the spiritual and mental, not the physical. When speaking about Jesus' "descent into hell" today, perhaps we should interpret it as revealing something about 121 64.2 2005" Billy ¯ Reaching the Alienated Heart humanity's alienation from God and about Jesus' role in bringing that alienation to an end. Alienation makes us feel isolated from ourselves, one another, and God. It hinders us on our journey through life and prevents us from becoming the persons we are called to be. Ronald Rolheiser puts it this way: "We are social beings, meant to live in love and intimacy with others. Our nature demands this. When, for whatever reasons, we cannot achieve this and communicate love as we should, then something is missing inside of us--and we feel it! We feel estranged and alienated.''2 To be in hell is to be in a state of complete and utter alienation from God. In such a state, we have lost touch with our-selves and so have become incapable of reaching out in love to anyone. If we are honest, all of us will admit experiencing sometime in our lives this sense of being estranged from and "out of sync" with ourselves, the world around us, and the God who created us. We feel at war with our-selves, divided and incapable of healing the division. Although we are conscious of it in various ways and degrees, this sense of alienation is not a matter of per-sonal choice (although choice can contribute to it), but a part of our existential condition as human beings. What makes matters worse is that we somehow sense that it was not meant to be this way, that something has gone terribly wrong with our human condition and that some-how humanity as a whole bears at least some (if not all) responsibility for it. Making All Things New Christianity is all about how God chose to make things right again by sharing our human condition and overcoming this alienation lurking deep in our hearts. Down through the ages, the church has developed the Review for Religious doctrines of original sin and redemption to explain this universal alienation and reveal the way God has chosen to rectify it. Jesus' descent into hell is intimately tied to these fun-damental Christian doctrines, each of which, like two sides of a coin, cannot exist without the other. Here, too, a distinction must ., - - -- be made between the formulations of these doctrines and the truths they disclose. Like Jesus' descent into hell, these doc-trines allow room for interpretation. The doctrine of original sin affirms that all of humanity has somehow become alienated from God in its collec-tive soul. The doctrine of redemption, in turn, affirms that, for any healing to take place, Jesus entered that realm of alienation and preached the Good News of God's love for each and every human being. When seen in this light, Jesus' descent into hell is the final stage of his redemptive self-emptying. H~ has entered our world, given himself to us completely, to the point of dying for us, and even to the point of telling those who live in complete alienation from the divine that God still loves them. Through the cross Jesus reveals his message of divine compassion, breaks down the resistance of our primal alienation, and offers newness of life to all who would have it. Byzantine iconography illustrates this point very well. When depicting the descent into hell, the artist normally has Jesus standing on the toppled gates of hell with a scroll in one hand and pulling Adam out of a bottom- The word preached by Jesus to those in hell boldly proclaims a new creation made possible by hi! rising from the dead. 64.2 2005 Billy * Reaching the Alienated Heart less pit with the other. Below Adam, angels can be seen locking Satan and his minions in chains that will hold them captive for all eternity. According to the principles of iconography, a scroll typically represents the preach-ing of the word. Since "Adam" in Hebrew means "man," in the universal sense of the term that today many would refer to as "humanity," Jesus' lifting of Adam, the first man, indicates the healing of humanity's primal wounds and its elevation to even great heights through Christ's redeeming grace) The word preached by Jesus to those in hell boldly proclaims a new creation made possible by his rising from the dead. Through his resurrection Jesus, the first fruits of the new humanity, takes fallen humanity by the hand, lifts it out of its primal alienation, and lets it par-ticipate in a union with the divine more intimate than everbefore thought possible. Jesus' descent into hell cannot be properly understood apart from his rising from the dead. It relates to the resurrection as the doctrine of original sin relates to the redemption. They are like two sides of a coin: they cannot exist without each other. Observations The above presentation offers a rethinking of the church's traditional teaching of Jesus' descent into hell. What follows are a number of remarks designed to fill out this interpretation in practical and relevant ways. 1. To begin with, this presentation challenges us to examine our minds and hearts in order to affirm what we truly believe about our faith. The doctrines of Christianity developed over time out of the experience of God's people and must always try to speak to their ongo-ing experience. If they fail to do so, they risk becoming brittle assertions from the past that fail to inspire and give life. The challenge for today's believers is to engage Review for Religious these doctrines in such a way that they continue to speak to their experience while remaining faithful to the insights of our Christian forebears. This presentation of Jesus' descent into hell uses different interpretive lenses to affirm the underlying truths of the traditional teach-ing so that they can be understood among the shifting contours of today's spiritual landscape. 2. A fundamental presupposition of this presentation is that it is possible to draw a distinction between a par-ticular formulation of the Christian faith and the truths it seeks to express. Since the complex relationship between language and meaning are not easy to unravel (if at all), we have urged here that, when seeking a refor-mulation of a doctrine that would be more palatable to contemporary tastes, we proceed strictly on a case-by-case basis. The approach used here for reinterpreting Jesus' descent into hell, for example, would not neces-sarily work in discussions of other creedal statements, especially those with more historically verifiable claims. 3. The distinction between a theological formula and the truth it discloses can be upheld on the basis of the analogy of human language. As with language, the Aposdes' Creed is a complex system of symbols that seeks to convey an intricate web of meaning. While all trans-lations of that meaning from one language to others are themselves interpretations (some better than others), we maintain that translations are not only possible but some-times absolutely required. This claim is all the more true for the church's proclamation of the Gospel, which at one and the same time must remain faithful to the apos-tolic tradition and relevant to the spiritual needs of each generation. 4. The choice of the phrase "alienation from the divine" as the existential equivalent to the Christian doctrine of hell has much in its favor. The term "alienation" is used 64.2 2005 Billy * Reaching the Alienated Heart by many spiritual writers today and, when taken to an extreme, conveys a sense of the intense pain and isolation experienced in a life marked by a total absence of God. The knowledge, moreover, that there are different degrees of alienation (from simple noninclusion to total estrange-ment) brings new insights in the Catholic doctrine of purgatory. If hell is the state of being in which individuals have become so alienated from God that they can no longer open their hearts to God's compassionate love, then pur-gatory represents that state of being where alienated hearts still can be moved to conversion. Seen in this light, the final judgment is not an external ruling exercised by Christ at the end of time, but the simple recognition that per-sons' choices in life have a cumulative effect on their hearts. 5. Finally, Jesus' death on the cross, his descent into hell, and his resurrection from the dead do not bring an end to humanity's existential condition of alienation from the divine, but begin its healing. Jesus' descent into hell was not a single, one-time event, but a continuous engag-ing with humanity's alienation from the divine. Because Jesus' redemptive action occurs both in and out of time, he continues to empty himself for us to this very day by descending into the throes of our alienation from God in order to make of it a new creation. V~at has changed for us as a result of his redemptive action is that, in the midst of this alienation, we can hear a still small voice from deep within our hearts calling us by name and affirming God's compassionate and abounding love for us. That voice is the Spirit, the bond of love between the Father and the Son, who wishes not only to speak but also to dwell within our hearts. Jesus' redemptive action makes it possible for us to live a life in the Spirit. This descent into hell is a stark reminder of what our lives would be like without him. While these observations do not exhaust the insights Review for Religious that this interpretation of Jesus' descent into hell has to offer, they demonstrate that doctrine can be both con-tinuous with the past and relevant to the spiritual sensi-tivities of today's believers. We have seen that this descent can be understood as Jesus' proclamation of the truth of his resurrection even to those who have com-pletely alienated themselves from the divine love. Although God's love for humanity is deep and plen-tiful, Jesus was well aware that not everyone would be ready to accept his message of forgiveness and intimate friendship with the divine. He experienced rejection dur-ing his public ministry and fully expected the same (if not worse) when he journeyed to hell by way of his grue-some and bloody death by crucifixion. This knowledge, however, did not prevent him from proclaiming his trans-forming message of God's love in the realm of the dead. On the contrary, it emboldened him. The point of this essay is that this shadowy realm lies not in some dark, murky Sheol beneath the pillars of the earth, but deep in the human heart. Even today Jesus goes there to proclaim his message and bring an end to humanity's primal alienation from God. Although the message he preaches is a source of vexation to many (hence the well-known phrase "harrowing of hell"), many whose hearts have not been completely hardened will listen to it and be moved to repentance. In the final analysis, Jesus' descent into hell affirms that the Good News is destined to be proclaimed not just to the ends of the earth, but to the heights and depths of reality itself, especially the heights and depths of the human heart. "God is everywhere," as we learned from our penny catechism--even in hell. He is present not only by virtue of keeping things in existence, but also by virtue of his word, the healing message of hope he carries to our fallen and alienated humanity. 127 64.2 2005 Billy ¯ Reaching the Alienated Heart Notes *Catechism of the Catholic Church (Rome: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1994), p. 53, §§194 and 196. 2 Ronald Rolheiser, The Restless Heart: Finding Our Spiritual Home in Times of Loneliness (New York: Doubleday, 2004), p. 43. 3 For more on iconography and Jesus' descent into hell, see M. Helen Weier, Festal Icons of the Lord (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1977), pp. 41-44. 128 Mother and Son She sits in the half lit room, eyes half closed in prayer. Outside, it is still dark, and all in the house but her are asleep. She looks up as the room fills with light, a new day breaking, the light like none she or anyone else has ever seen. Although it is not whiter than snow, the light of the angel at the tomb, to see it would frighten most. But she, with a light of her own, greater than that of angels, knows she has nothing to fear from this light of purest love. Kevin Bezner Re~ie~ for Religious BONAVENTURE STEFUN Feet First into Resurrection ~ nly with the beginnings of scholasticism in the 1 lth or 12th century was there a careful and sys-tematic distinguishing of sacraments from sacramentals. In 1274 the Council of Lyons (DS 860) listed the church's seven sacraments. In earlier centuries, preach-ers would include various actions in Christian life as grace-giving sacraments/sacramentals, without con-trasting them. One action of Christ commonly followed was his washing of his disciples' feet at the Last Supper. In an age when most travel was by foot, one would think that people would take feet for granted--take them in stride and ignore them. Once people's feet developed calluses, it would seem that they could go on forever with a minimum of care. Paul blithely considered feet to be less majestic parts of the body, even though essen-tial for carrying the faith beyond the mountains. As insignificant as feet would have seemed, people could not forget what the Master had done. One can imagine Peter welcoming visitors to his place of abode with a basin and a towel. Feet took on such an importance that 129 Bonaventure Stefun OFMCap writes this reflective article from St. Augustine Friary; 221-36th Street; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15201. 64.2 2005 Stefun ¯ Feet First into Resurrection washing guests' feet was seen as a kind of sacrament in the church for hundreds of years. Imagine how the concept of a body's importance may have developed in the early church. First came the gru-eling crucifixion and then the gradual realization of res-urrection, both actions involving the Lord's body. What Jesus did in washing the apostles' feet became a way of understanding his res-urrection, for it was a complete and natural demonstration of his incarnation, his embod-ied life on earth. His concern for a lowly part of the human anatomy reminds us that his own mortality came from his human makeup. Disciples could simply follow footsteps into the theology of a Lord who could die and then be raised from the dead. The story began on Easter Sunday. Once the Sabbath restrictions were ended, disconsolate women set out for the tomb where their Master had been quickly buried. These were the women from Galilee who used to accom-pany Jesus and his Twelve. They liked to prepare the lit-tle that he ate and to minister to his various needs, tiny as those needs usually were. This time, with desolate hearts, they wanted to per-form their final service with all their deepest love. They wanted to provide for Jesus' body the anointing that had to be cut short when the Sabbath followed so closely on his dying. Their hearts were filled with love and with an overflowing sorrow, the ambivalent feelings the living experience in taking care of the dead. All those feelings were suddenly turned to alarm as Review for Religious they drew close to the tomb. It was gapingly open, and they could see that it was empty. Immediately they feared desecration or vandalism or strong intimidation on the part of the soldiers or the city's leaders. In their bewil-derment the women turned back to their homes, stum-bling along in stunned silence.lust a short way along their return road, the)~ were jolted to a stop. There was .Jesus, just standing there, not a desecrated corpse but alert and fully alive. He lifted his hand in silent bless-ing and greeting. He had come on purpose, knowing the familiar road they would use. Without hesitation the women knelt in a cluster and embraced his feet. Their prostration was typical enough for their day, more than just a simple bow when paying respect to a beloved teacher. Disciples would kneel to acknowledge how superior the person was who taught them and made sense of life's daily struggles. This time, embracing their Master's feet implied something even greater than deep respect. Jesus himself had embraced his disciples' feet with his hands, washing their feet and drying them with the padded caress of a towel. The women marveled when they heard the Apostles tell the story. Once that ritual of washing feet was completed on the solemn occasion of his last meal with them, Jesus told his disciples to do what he had done, and they told others. This would be a sign that they were.Jesus' disci-ples. The whirlwind events of the next days prevented any development of the new rite of service, but all would have been thinking of his command to wash one another's feet, serve one another, love one another just as Jesus loved each of them. Even the children would have to be part of this new and loving ritual of washing feet. Jesus said plainly that all such service, even to the very least, was really done for him. 131 t~4.2 200~ Stefun * Feet First into Resurrection The Gospel of John On 12:3-7) subtly connects this foot-washing by Jesus with the tearful washing and costly anointing of Jesus' feet by a woman of tarnished reputa-tion in the house of Simon the Pharisee (Lk 7:37-38, Mk 14:3-8, Mt 26:7-12). Judas called the flood of oil a dread-ful extravagance. We all are inclined to thoughts like that, John seems to imply, and perfumed oil belongs on the head, not the feet! It certainly seemed wasteful until Jesus said it was part of the preparation for his burial. Now, on the road returning home, the women real-ized that the pre-burial anointing by one or two women was more important to Jesus than what they were attempting to do by going to his tomb early in the morn-ing. He seemed to accept that anointing of his feet at a Pharisee's interrupted dinner as a special sign, a sign which indicated an intense love and an immense faith. John suggests in his Gospel that the woman, named Mary, was showing the kind of reverence a body deserves that brings God's presence into salvation history. Jesus kept saying that he knew he was about to be executed. He would die and bring about forgiveness of sin, and he would do it through his body. He would put his body into total submission to God, and in dying he would trust the Father to take care of him, including his body, and even his feet. The woman herself seemed to be saying the same thing with her aromatic anointing. The body she anointed would not carry the stench of corruption but rather the fragrance of God's presence. In accepting this service for his burial, Jesus was indicating that he had no fear of physical corruption after death. Psalm 16 had long before assured him of his Father's intervention to keep his body from decay. He needed just to trust his Father, to live by faith as completely as he asked his dis-ciples to do. Review for Religious As the women of Easter Sunday embraced their Lord's feet along a familiar road, they understood the fuller meaning of washing and anointing feet. They con-eluded that every washing was also an anointing, a prepa-ration for his burial. All the daily care for little children and other needy persons was part of his burial, as were all the care and respect shown for the bodies of persons who had died. The very care became the perfume of love and the promise that the Father would be present even when bod-ies succumbed in death. What this woman did in anointing his feet, Jesus said, would be recalled wher-ever he would be remembered and his gospel proclaimed. When he made this remark, it seemed like simple grati-tude on his part, but he was really saying that every dis-ciple of his could help prepare his body for burial. Their daily acts of service to their brothers and sisters would be an anointing with perfumed oil, a symbol of God's presence and a pledge of resurrection, his own first, and then that of all his disciples. It was natural for people in the early church to con-clude that the washing of feet was a kind of sacrament, a sign of the Lord's presence and a channel of grace. Gradually, in the course of centuries, feet became pam-pered by socks and sturdy shoes and comfortable trans-portation and no longer looked forward, upon arriving, to the soothing removal of mud and dust. Not just tramping feet but all parts of a Christian's body took on the role of signifying the body of Christ. Can we, like Jesus, in dying, trust the Father ~to take care of us, including our body, and even our feet ? 133 64.2 2005 Stefun ¯ Feet First into Resurrection Instead of a washing only, at baptismal rites the body would be anointed, as it would also at confirmation and the sacrament of orders. Often a healing anointing would be given to the sick, and the sacrament of healing addressed the greater healing of sin's wounds and the grand hope of sharing in our Lord's risen life. In these latter-day circumstances, the washing of feet has taken on the appearance of an act of penance and humility, a virtuous act, but no longer a sort of sacra-ment like the seven described by the Councils of Lyons, Florence, and Trent. Not just the washing of feet, but all thoughtful care of others used to be understood as a path toward understanding and being involved in Christ's dying and rising. If feet no longer need gentle washing as a matter of kind hospitality, some other service in Jesus' name for a poor child or a travel-worn person on life's journey would keep Jesus' disciples aware day by day of him dying and rising among us, or us dying and rising in him. Questions for Reflection and Discussion Questions for personal reflection and group discussion: 1. How do we understand our Catholic distinction between sacraments and sacramentals? Perhaps we may need to review "Sacramental, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, Part Two, Chapter Four. 2. We experience the washing of the feet during the Holy Thursday Eucharistic celebration. Have we experienced other sacramental moments during the Eucharist or other Catholic prayer service? Why was this action sacramental for us? Review for Religious JAMES F. KEENAN Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests Lately priests have been writing and signing a variety of statements. For-instance, on 9 December 2002 fifty-eight Boston priests signed a letter calling for the resignation of Cardinal Bernard Law. In a letter of 1 October 2003, priests of Rockville Centre called for a meeting with Bishop William Murphy over "widespread dissatisfaction" with his leadership. The priests of Chicago wrote an open letter to the hierarchy about the tone and content of church leaders' remarks about gay and lesbian persons, a letter subsequently adopted by priests of Rochester (New York) and Boston. Then there Was the let-ter of last August signed by more than 160 priests in Milwaukee calling for a married clergy. Amazing actions inasmuch as many cannot remember during the 1980s or 1990s any other James F. Keenan SJ has written for us twice before, in 1992 and 1996. His address is Theology Department; Boston College; Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts 02467. taking account 135 64.2 2005 Keenan ¯ Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests such letters written by priests. Thus, it seems relevant for a Catholic moral theologian to ask: Do priests have a right to do this? A~dmittedly, in each instance the letters are admoni-tory at most, yet they are concerned with influencing the bishop and/or the bishops' conference. As the priests in Rockville Centre noted in their letter, as "your brother priests., we believe that [we] may have a special role." Do they? Before answering that question, I need to ask three prior questions. First, how much have moral theologians assisted priests? Second, how interested would priests be in the assistance of moral theologians? Third, how appropriate is rights language for speaking about the priesthood? After answering these questions I will pro-pose four specific ethical rights for priests. Question 1: How much have moral theologians assisted priests? The answer to the first question is simple: Not much. Strange as it may seem, priests and bishops rarely receive any professional training from moral theologians. Those who study at seminaries, divinity schools, or schools of theology do not have the type of ethical training that those at other professional schools receive. Students at business, medical, or law schools take ethics courses that address the ethical issues relevant to their particular pro-fession. They are taught the responsibilities and rights specific to their profession: matters of representation, confidentiality, whistle-blowing, client expectations, priv-ileges, promotions, evaluations, conflicts of interest, pro-fessional boundaries, and so forth. This type of ethical training is not found at most seminaries, divinity schools, or schools of theology, even though many students take two, three, or four courses of Review for Religious Christian ethics. Divinity students and seminarians gen-erally do not study the ethical demands, responsibilities, rights, obligations, and privileges specific to their voca-tion. Rather, they study the ethical norms and relevant circumstances regarding the laity's sexual relations and the attendant reproductive issues, the social ethics of governments and businesses, and the medical ethics of physicians and nurses. That is, those in ministry are taught how to govern and make ethically accountable the members of their congregations. But, generally speaking, they are not taught by what ethical reasoning, insights, or norms they should govern themselves ethi-cally. A priest, therefore, knows much, much more about birth control and in-vitro fertilization than he knows about the demands of confidentiality, the principle of subsidiarity, or the right treatment of employees. This same alienation is found in canon-law courses. When seminarians study canon law, they learn more about whether a married couple can get an annulment than the rights and responsibilities incumbent on their own state in life. Ask a priest what he should do if his vicar says to him, "An accusation has been filed against you; I deem it credible; you have two-hours to leave the rectory." Few would know what rights belong to him. But tell him that you want to marry a person who while belonging to another Christian denomination married a person in a non-Christian wedding but subsequently entered that denomination and then they both sought the blessing of a minister (of yet another denomination) and he will be able to explain to you whether and why your intended needs to file for an annulment. Priests learn a lot about how to direct others, but not about what pertains to themselves. That being said, there have been a few recent signs of change. As early as 1996 the moral theologian Richard 64.2 2005 Keenan ¯ Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests Gula wrote his Ethics in Pastoral Ministry (Paulist Press). Gula has spoken around the country about the need to develop such training. The Protestant ethicist Karen Lebacqz has likewise written and spoken extensively on the topic. More recendy, facing the crisis here in Boston, Edward Vacek, Stephen Pope, and Lisa Sowle Cahill have written and spoken in a variety of places about the need for professional ethics in the church. With the Mennonite theologian Joseph Kotva, I edited Practice What You Preach: Virtues, Ethics, and Power in the Lives of Pastoral Ministers and Their Congregations, which con-tained twenty-six essays by Christian ethicists from a dozen denominations reflecting on the need to develop more ethically accountable lives of service and leader-ship. Interestingly, though all the contributors were well-known, most of them had never written on ethical issues internal to church life. In order to help readers get an idea of the scope of issues facing people in ministry, the writers in our col-lection offered ethical guidance for individual church leaders and their communities and dealt with issues such as disillusionment and deference in clerical life, semi-nary admissions policies, candidacy programs, pastoral assignments, staff salaries, liturgical celebrations, and the practices of collegiality and subsidiarity. These initial exercises by moral theologians illustrate, then, just how much work we need to do to assist the clergy in their professional service to the church. But that leads to the second question. Question 2: How interested would the clergy be in moral theologians' assistance? That answer is simple: It all depends on the priest, for there is no consensus among priests about the need of professional ethics. The reason for this is, in part, the Review for Religious differences among them regarding their own under-standing of themselves and of episcopal decision making. The first difference is how they privilege one dimen-sion of their ministerial identity over another. Admittedly, all understand themselves as having the status of ordina-tion and yet being called to service. But they look at that double identity with specific preferences. In a wonderful new book, Evolving Visions of the Priesthood (Liturgical Press, 2003), Dean Hoge and Jacqueline Wenger asked the clergy whether there is a new status or permanent character conferred by ordina- Because status privileges the clergy as liping in a"distinct world, establishing a professional ethics for them Can be especially challenging. tion. When they first asked that question in 1970, only 52 percent of those aged 26-35 said yes, while 88 percent of those aged 56-65 said yes. But now, more than thirty years later, 68 percent of those once young priests now between 56-65 answered yes, while an enormous 95 per-cent of those 26-35 said yes. That is, thirty years ago the younger the priests were, the less inclined they were to be concerned~with the status question; today the younger they are, the more they are so inclined. Because status privileges the clergy as living in a distinct world, establishing a professional ethics for them can be espe-cially challenging. The second difference correlates with the first. Those priests more inclined to understand themselves as ordained and set apart are more comfortable with earlier forms of episcopal decision making, while those more inclined to identifying themselves with their ministerial service are looking for more professional standards. The 139 64.2 2005 Keenan ¯ Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests former tend to look at ecclesial bureaucracy with esteem and are satisfied with their fraternal and paternal expres-sions. Similarly they are comfortable with the way the Roman curia proceeds. Those who prefer service look to the world of the professional where the norms of con-duct are posted and expectations regarding promotions, decision making, and power sharing are public and clear. Thus the way a priest identifies himself also tends to develop into where he looks for standards of authority. We might be surprised by the way these differing tendencies look at canon law. Those who see themselves as having a set status are comfortable with exercises of local episcopal authority and prefer the bishop's admin-istrative or executive judgment to the actual application of the law. The men who want clarity and norms are more likely to want reform of clerical culture, and toward that end they often turn to their professional identity as expressed in canon law. These tendencies play out similarly in the contem-porary problematic of removing priests. Priests who understand themselves as ordained and set apart prefer episcopal exercise of administrative power to resolve matters. Priests who understand themselves primarily as servants favor canonical procedures. These dividing lines are applicable not only to the clergy but to the laity's relationship with the clergy. It ought not to be surprising, then, that the champions of the right of accused priests to receive due process and juridical appeal are more often those who tend to orga-nizations like Voice of the Faithful. One layperson, Catherine Henningsen, frequently addresses VOTF chap-ters and calls the removal of priests without due process "the most underreported aspect of the pedophilic crisis" and labels it "the second wave of abuse on the part of many bishops." She follows step by step the normative Review for Religious procedures that bishops should follow, that the clergy should expect, and that the laity ought to oversee. Her work highlights the natural affinity between VOTF and freestanding priests' organizations like the Boston Priests Forum and New York's Voice of the Ordained, which look to guarantee the rights of accused priests. But other priests--those who are more comfortable with ecclesial administrative judgments--are strong critics of Henningson, seeing her work as opportunistic. A final set of tendencies among priests is how they distinguish the private from the public. Priests inclined to understand themselves primarily as separated from oth-ers usually are less inclined to find relevance in the dis-tinction between the private and the public. Priests inclined to service, professional standards, and canon law give the distinction great weight. These feel that they should have private living quarters and be able to dress as they want on their vacation days. Some also see celibacy as an unnecessary intrusion into their private lives. I propose these rights, then, not to extend the divide, but to offer a context in which priests tending in either direction can discuss them, Moreover, I propose them, not as a manifesto or as a confrontational stance for those priests and laypersons who prefer the more service-ori-ented professional model. Rather, I offer a modest pro-posal to both sides of the aisle, and to those as well who try to bridge those aisles. Hopefully, it may let us find common ground upon which we can find agreement rather than disagreement. Question 3: Is rights language appropriate? The answer here is also simple: Yes. I use the word "rights" not as a canonist does, that is, as a very specific right that the Code of Canon Law recognizes; but rather as what moral theologians and Christian social ethicists 141 64.2 2005 Keenan ¯ Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests mean when we talk of the right to food, or work, or healthcare, that is, as an ethical right. Certainly, I propose these with the hope that they may be' eventually articu-lated into canonical precepts, but I do not claim that they necessarily have canonical force now. Moreover, I do not see rights as some sort of volun-taristic assertions of power over and against others; rather, I see rights language as springing from acom- " Way, b foreright . .language appeared in modern liberal democracies, righis Were fi. dt , trinsic .the,. good munity of faith looking to see how its mem-bers can best protect the good of the whole church and its specific members. Following Brian Tierney (The Idea of Natural Rigbts: Studies on Natural Rights, Natural Law, and Church Law, 11 Y0- 162$), I believe that rights were originally recognized by l lth- and 12th-century theologians and canonists who tried to articulate those that belonged to popes, bishops, the clergy, and other church members, not as inimical to the life of the church, but as constitu-tive of the church. In other words, way before rights lan-guage appeared in modern liberal democracies, rights were first expressed as intrinsic to the good of the church. Finally, as Aristotle taught us, ethics is for the com-munity, and asserting the ethical rights of priests is cer-tainly not at the cost of the community, but rather for its benefit. Thus, to the extent that these rights are not respected, to that extent not only priests but the com-munity of the church, its own very communio, suffer. Book II of the Code of Canon Law outlines the obli- Review for Religious gations and rights of all the Christian faithful (cc. 204- 223). The first set of rights and obligations belongs to the laity (cc. 224-231), and eventually the Code turns to the rights and obligations of the clergy (cc. 273-289). Here we find three canonical rights: of association, to a vaca-tion, and to fitting and decent remuneration. Instead of these three canonical rights, I propose four "ethical" ones: the right of priests to share respectfully in the episcopal ministry of the local ordinary, the right of association, the right to exercise their ministry, and the right to fair treatment. I propose these rights as modes of helping the church to further understand the way priests today should ethically live and serve in the church. The Right to Share Respectfully in the Bishop's Ministry The first right echoes one that was discussed in the revision of the Code of Canon Law, "the right of coop-erating with the bishop in the exercise of his ministry." It is the right being implicitly invoked and exercised by priests in their recent letters to bishops and bishops' conferences. John Lynch, a canon lawyer who has written on the rights of priests, frequently asserts that the "cleric shares in the episcopal ministry." Interestingly, he roots his claim precisely in the first canon in the section on rights and obligations, canon 273: "Clerics are bound by a spe-cial obligation to show reverence and obedience to the supreme pontiff and their own ordinary." Lynch's claim is derived from three Vatican Council II documents. The Decree on the Ministry and Life of Priests (Presbyterorum ordinis, §7) says: "Priestly obedi-ence, inspired through and through by the spirit of coop-eration, is based on that sharing of the episcopal ministry which is conferred on priests by the sacrament of order 64.2 2005 Keenan ¯ Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests and the canonical mission." Similarly, The Bishops' Pastoral Office (Christus Dominus, §28) says: "All priests, whether diocesan or religious, share and exercise with the bishop the one priesthood of Christ." Finally, Lumen gentium §28 declares: "The bishop is to regard his priests, who are his coworkers, as sons and friends, just as Christ called his disciples no longer servants but friends." Interestingly, the special obedience that the cleric owes his bishop is based on his sharing in the episcopal min-istry itself. This ethical right is found not only in the Code, its commentary, and Vatican documents. It is found also in the rite of ordination. The first question the bishop asks the ordinand is: "Are you resolved, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to discharge without fail the office of priest-hood in the presbyteral order as a conscientious fellow worker with the bishops in caring for the Lord's flock?" Then in the prayer of consecration we hear the bishop say: "Lord, grant also to us such fellow workers, for we are weak and our need is greater. Almighty Father, grant to this servant of yours the dignity of the priesthood. Renew within him the Spirit of holiness. As a coworker with the order of bishops, may he be faithful to the min-istry that he receives from you, Lord God, and be to others a model of right conduct." In sum, various foun-dational texts recognize the priest as having a share in the exercise of episcopal authority. For this to be conveyed as a right, I suggest that it would be implied in "respect-ful" sharing. When we hear of priests' repeated unsuccessful attempts to meet with their ordinary, we learn that this right is not adequately recognized. In fact, when we note the phenomenon of public letters written and signed by priests, we ought to see this not so much as an indication of that right being exercised, but rather as expressing frus- Review for Religious tration that the presumed right has been ignored. Priests are "going public" because in many instances the right has been long bypassed. When routinely exercised and recognized, the right would foster community, the life of the diocese, and the credibility of episcopal leadership. The Right of Association The right of sharing in the ministry of the bishop leads to fostering right relations among the clergy through association. Canon 275, ~1, states: "Since cler-ics all work for the same purpose, namely, the building up of the Body of Christ, they are to be united among themselves by a bond of brotherhood and prayer and strive for cooperation among themselves according to the prescripts of particular law." Immediately after this paragraph, the Code adds, "Clerics are to acknowledge and promote the mission which the laity, each for his or her part, exercises in the church and in the world." Thus, associations of clerics have reason not to create separa-tion from laypersons, but rather to promote their involvement. In fact, in an earlier draft of the Code, priests were called to recognize the laity's mission; in the promulgated Code they are called to promote it. Though canon 215 defined the right of all the Christian faithful, both lay and clergy, to form associa-tions, canon 278 establishes it as the first canonical right for priests. The Code reads: "Secular clerics have the right to associate with others to pursue purposes in keep-ing with the clerical state." This is the first time that canon law recognized this ethical right. Moreover, in developing the revised Code, the com-mission rejected a proposal that placed associations of priests under the local ordinary. To do so would be to infringe on the exercise of the very right that was being promulgated. 64.2 2005 Keenan * Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests The Code derives its inspiration from the natural law and from the writings of previous pontiffs. For instance, in his encyclical Pacem in terris (§24), Pope John xxIII upholds the natural right to assemble and says that peo-ple "have also the right to give the societies of which they are members the form they consider most suitable for the aim they have in view." He adds: "It is most necessary that a wide variety of societies or intermediate bodies be established equal to the task of accomplishing what the individual cannot by himself efficiently achieve. These societies., are to be regarded as an indispensable means in safeguarding the dignity and liberty of the human per-son, without harm to his sense of responsibility." Thus from the natural law, our own experience, papal encyclicals, and the Code itself, we recognize the ethical right of priests to form associations. Throughout the United States we have seen in the past few years free-standing priests' associations emerge (the Boston Priests Forum, New York's Voice of the Ordained). This ethical right validates these groups. Their recent initiatives to form local movements are congruent with good thinking within the church. Moreover, these organizations do not replace presbyteral councils, but represent a few of what Pope John xxIII referred to as the "wide varieties" of gatherings necessary for human flourishing. The Right to Exercise Their Ministry While priests have an obligation to exercise their priestly ministry, they also have a right to exercise that ministry according to their particular judgment. Here we can think of pastors, for instance, who must discern whether this particular couple is actually ready to get married in the church. And there are instances where the appropriate place or time for a child's baptism is something that pastors must discern. Review for Religqous The question of the exercise of ministry was raised recently by the Boston Priests Forum regarding preach-ing. They wanted to reflect on what is at stake when the chancery defends a particular value and a pastor won-ders whether he ought to raise in his sermon another possibly competitive value. To what degree is he called to exercise his ministry as expressing his particular voca-tion? In the USCCB document on Sunday homilies Fulfilled in Your Hearing, we find the bishops calling the pastor to listen to the Scriptures and to the congregation and to respond to that listening. Is there something that hap-pens existentially in that listening that could prompt the pastor to hear the needs of the laity of his parish in some other way than what a statement from the chancery may convey? Could there also be times when laypersons believe that something beyond what the chancery has articulated needs to be recognized? And if the cleric, in all this listening, is also obliged "to foster peace and har-mony based on justice" as canon 287 states, could he find himself eventually perceiving an obligation in con-science to respond as a preacher of the Word to the par-ticular congregation he serves? This is not advocacy for rebel priests. Rather it rec-ognizes both the context in which a cleric exercises his ministry and the process by which he comes to articulate the sermon and other forms of ministry. Though by his faculties a priest exercises his ministry at the bishop's pleasure, there seems to be another claim on the priest that comes not from the bishop directly, but from the people whom the priest serves. If the priest is to truly promote peace and justice and communio, it seems that in discerning how to do so he needs to rely on something in addition to the bishops' particular will. Like other expressions of his ministry that he shares with the bishop 147 64.2 200~ Keenan * Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests and with the laity, a priest's preaching calls for a consci-entious integrity to witness to the gospel as he sees it expressed in his midst. The Right to Fair Treatment To appreciate this right we need to turn to the zero-tolerance policy as it appears (§§56-60) in the Report on the Crisis in the Catholic Church in the United States by the National Review Board for the Protection of Children and Young People. There the ten lay authors note that the policy "was deemed necessary because some bishops and religious superiors in their assessment of sexual abuse of minors by priests under their authority badly under-estimated the seriousness of the misconduct and harm to victims, and allowed wrongdoers to continue in posi-tions of ministry, from which they went on to harm oth-ers." They conclude: "To prevent any recurrence of such situations, the charter and essential norms remove any further discretion on the part of bishops and religious superiors in this regard." But what, then, is the net effect on an offending priest? Here the report notes: "Accordingly, the zero-tolerance policy applies without regard to any assess-ment of the degree of culpability of an offending priest based upon such factors as (i) the nature of the sexual act (e.g., the improper touching of a fully clothed teenager versus the sodomization of a child), (ii) the fre-quency of abuse (e.g., an isolated event versus a pro-tracted history), or (iii) efforts to address the problem (e.g., successful treatment of a problem that had led to an act of abuse years ago versus untreated problems that manifested themselves more recently). The policy also applies with equal fbrce to a priest who reports himself as having engaged in an act of abuse in an effort to obtain help with his problem." Review for Religious Fair treatment usually observes some form of due proportionality. And, though the review board acknowl-edges objections from a variety of observers about the fairness and effectiveness of the policy and though they write "the zero-tolerance policy may seem to be too blunt an instrument for universal application," they believe, nonetheless, "that for the immediate future the zero-tolerance policy is essential to the restoration of the trust of the laity in the leadership of the church, provided that it is appropriately applied. In assessing individual cases in order to determine whether the priest engaged in an act of sexual abuse of a minor, the bishops must consult with the diocesan lay review board, so that they may strive for individualized justice in light of their developing experience and expertise." The report's caveat with regard to appropriate pro-cedures and diocesan lay review could serve, then, as a witness to the fair treatment of priests, but that witness needs to be guaranteed by the national review commit-tee as it endorses the zero-tolerance policy. Inasmuch as review boards recognize disparity regarding their role and the application of appropriate procedures, they need to witness to priests' rights as well as to the rights of the laity, especially children. Finally, they acknowledge "that any discussion of the charter's zero-tolerance provision would be incomplete without noting that there is no equivalent policy of zero tolerance for bishops o.r provincials who allowed preda-tor priests to remain in or return to ministry despite knowledge of the risks. In fact, in the minds of some priests, the impression was created that the Dallas char- Fair treatment usually observes some form of due proportionality. 64.2 200~ Keenan ¯ Framing the Ethical Rights of Priests 1501 ter and the essential norms were the bishops' attempt to deflect criticism from themselves and onto individual priests . Priests, who now stand uneasily under a sword of Damocles, with their every action scrutinized, under-standably may ask why the bishops do not face such con-sequences if they fail to abide by the charter. This distinction has deteriorated the relationship between priests and bishop." The report concludes this section stating that the bishops "must show that they are willing to accept responsibility and consequences for poor leadership." Fairness then cuts two ways. Not only ought due pro-portionality emerge somehow in the treatment of accused and offending priests, but priests alone cannot and should not bear the weight of the scandal. If a zero-tolerance policy is applied to priests, where is an analogous policy for the scandalous bishops? The scandal will only come to rest when justice has been served, but an inequitable justice is not justice. The national review board has, then, two more responsibili-ties: They must somehow guarantee that due process and due proportionality are granted to priests, and they must hold proportionally accountable both the offending priests and the offending bishops. I want to conclude on a hopeful note. When we read the report, there is the impression that the writers are talking to two constituencies: the bishops and the laity. Regarding priests, they are more talking about them than talking to them. This has been in large measure a com-mon way that judges, reporters, advocates, and others have proceeded. Everyone tries to engage the bishops in order to talk about priests. I propose these four rights--one about participatory leadership, another about right to associate, a third about ministerial vocation, the fourth about fairness--with the hope that these may further encourage the voice of the Review for Religious clergy. Throughout these recent years, when occasionally, though not at all often enough, priests have addressed either the harm and shame attached to the abuse of chil-dren or the rights of the laity and bishops, they have usually done so in the place that they are called to be: the parish pulpit. I suggest that if priests begin to recognize the rights due them--especially at a time when many find themselves, as the report states, demoralized--they might in turn be more vocal from that pulpit in recog-nizing the rights of others and in fostering the communio that the Church so desperately needs. Healing grace always accompanies restorative justice. My Novitiate When I arrived, I was bankrupt: empty, nicotine-stained, desperate, hungry and broke. I had been robbed by those who loved me. The vault held nothing sacred. The bed you gave me was comfortable. I hardly felt the stretching. You smiled and I hoped. Copper penny joy clinked as it hit the floor and echoed in my soul. One by one, the nickels came. Prayer became my treasure. I grew rich with coins of every size. Celibacy became an asset, obedience, my wealth. Who knew that poverty could h'old so much? Finally that time has come. At profession I ask. "Where now may I spend?" Grace Gallant $SM 64.2 2005' ANNE MUNLEY Faith and Solidarity in Action At the heart of religious life is a conviction that the healing and liberating mission of Jesus is for all times and all peoples. This grand mission, the impe-tus for apostolic energy and service, is succinctly stated in the Gospel of John: "I came that they may have life and have it abundantly" (Jn 10:10). The mission of bear-ing life is common to women religious throughout the world. Though of many cultures, the nearly one million women religious in today's world are of one heart in pas-sionate commitment to bringing to birth God's dream of unity, justice, peace, and abundance of life for all. Brought into existence to support leaders of women's religious congregations and to link congregations in ful-filling their life-giving mission of love and service, the International Union of Superiors General (UISG) holds a plenary session every three years to bring members together in an atmosphere of prayer and support to con- Anne Munley IHM, a member of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (Scranton, Pennsylvania), is director of Programs and Social Mission at the International Union of Superiors General (UISG); Piazza di Ponte Sant'Angelo 28; 00186 Roma; Italy. Review for Religious sider urgent matters facing religious life and God's peo-ple. In May 2004 almost eight hundred members gath-ered in Rome for five days to reflect on the theme "Women Disciples of Jesus--Bearers of Reconciliation for Our World." This was an apt theme at a time when millions of people in various parts of the world are suf-fering the consequences of war, violence, abuse of power, and divisions of every kind. Before coming to the UISG plenary session, each con-gregational leader was asked to reflect prayerfully on the following scriptural passage: "For anyone who is in Christ, there is a new creation . It is all God's work. It was God who reconciled us to himself, and gave us the work of handing on this reconciliation" (2 Co 5:17- 18). Those planning the session also requested that each participant, bring a symbol that reflected efforts of the sisters of her congregation to enter into God's work of reconciliation in those parts of the world in which the congregation ministers. Since UISG consists of approx-imately thirty-five regional groups called constellations, delegates representing the constellations were similarly requested to bring pertinent symbols. To engage all UISG members in reflection on the theme, the UISG Bulletin (No. 123, 2003, 21-33) pub-lished in five languages an article by Robert Schreiter CPPS tided "A Spirituality of Reconciliation." It explores the biblical basis for a spirituality of reconciliation and suggests five principles that flow from Paul's reflections on reconciliation in 2 Corinthians 5:17-20: (1) Reconciliation is first and foremost the work of God; (2) God's reconciling work begins with the victim; (3) God makes of both victim and wrongdoer a "new creation"; (4) we place our suffering inside the story of the suffer-ing, death, and resurrection of Christ; and (5) full rec-onciliation will happen only when God will be all in all. 64.2 2005 Munley ¯ Faith and Solidarity in Action A strength of the UISG plenary session is that it gathers congregational leaders who have direct experience of religious life and the joys and sufferings of people in all parts of theworld. 1,54 Schreiter speaks of wounds the wounds of victims and of those who would help them as entry points for a spirituality of reconciliation that connects people's sto-ries to the story of Jesus, the "wounded healer." This image speaks to the experience of women religious who, though recognizing their woundedness, persist in efforts to bring about reconciliation because through their faith they are enlivened by God's healing action in their lives. For the God of life nothing is impossible. Hope arises out of confidence in what God will bring forth. A strength of the UISG plenary session is that it gath-ers in one place at one time congregational leaders who have direct expe-rience of religious life and the joys and sufferings of people in all parts of the world. In a multicultural and multilingual meet-ing, prayer, ritual, liturgy, music, dance, and other artistic media are path-ways to mutual understanding and relationship. Explanations of con-gregational and constellation symbols enabled partici-pants to enter into situations in need of reconciliation in other parts of the world and to glimpse the realities of women religious seeking to respond to various circum-stances crying out for healing. It was a humbling expe-rience to hear stories of what being called to be "bearers of reconciliation" means in different parts of the world. Some were stories of steadfast witness in the face of incomprehensible human suffering. Table conversations Review for Religious helped us to understand the stories more intimately, to see into these stories with the "eyes" and "hearts" of oth-ers. Prayer, ritual, and a Power Point presentation of images of people's needs and of sisters' endeavors towards reconciliation and healing provided an enriching pre-lude for further theological development of the theme by Diane Bergant CSA. Working with the biblical accounts of the reconciliation of Jacob and Esau and of Joseph and his brothers, Bergant stressed that it is will-ingness to forgive on the part of the one offended that opens up possibilities for reconciliation and healing of relationships. Participants reflected as well on stories of particular efforts to bring reconciliation to painful situations within the church, society, and religious congregations. These stories were told with eloquent simplicity by three con-gregational leaders. They shared personal experiences of serving in leadership at a time when issues of abuse, life-and-death consequences of ethnic and tribal war-fare, and the need to reconcile long-standing congrega-tional divisions demanded great outpouring of time and energy and unremitting trust in the guidance of the Spirit. Sharing on the part of two congregational leaders from Iraq about the impact of the war on the people among whom their sisters minister evoked poignant response and heartfelt expressions of support and soli-darity. These presentations put flesh on what it means to lead as a "wounded healer." What wove the plenary session, together was a reflec-tion model that moved from sharing experiences (see-ing) to situating reflection in the word of God (judging) to acting on the basis of shared convictions. Throughout the session a writing committee gleaned key ideas and various suggested action steps and fashioned them into a 64.2 200~ Munley ¯ Faith and Solidarity in Action draft version that was brought back and discussed, then further revised, and ultimately approved unanimously in an atmosphere of expectant hope and joy. Here is that approved declaration: Declaration of the International Union of Superior.s General Women Disciples of Jesus Christ: Bearers of Reconciliation in Our World For anyone who is in Christ there is a new creation . It is all God's work. It was God who reconciled us to him-self and gave us the work of handing on this reconcilia-tion. (2 Corinthians Y:17-18) We live in a time of extreme violence, a time when lights of hope and reconciliation are desper-ately needed.We are nearly 800 women leaders from 69 countries and five continents. The International Union of Superiors General repre-sents members of Catholic religious institutes in 98 countries throughout the world. We believe that no more important mission exists at this time than to be bearers of the reconciling hope for which the world cries. Believing that reconciliation is God's desire for the world, we humbly declare our reliance upon God, the source of reconciliation and the source of all healing and forgiveness. We know too that we are not alone as we journey with people of many faiths and traditions who long for a reconciled world. We walk with them in our insecurity, fragility, and need for continuous conversion of heart, recognizing our common desire to make inclusive love and the search for truth the basic principles that govern our lives. As leaders we commit ourselves to work with one another, with the members of our institutes and Review for Religious national conferences of religious by: Living a spirituality of reconciliation. We will witness in community this spirituality of compas-sion, respect, courage, truth, and reconciling hope. Proclaiming publicly our commitment to be bear-ers of reconciliation. We will: ¯ collaborate with other associations for justice, res-olution of conflict, and an end to war in all its forms. ¯ use the media to announce an alternative vision, tell stories of reconciliation, and denounce violence and injustice. ¯ create and promote dialogue, understanding, and reconciliation among peoples, cultures, and reli-gions. ¯ intensify efforts toward healing, reconciliation, and right relationships between women and men. ¯ continue to intensify our efforts, as bearers of rec-onciliation in the world, to eradicate the traffick-ing of women and children. ¯ promote the education and formation of women and girls. ¯ be proactive in peace building and in caring for all creation. We move forward as women religious leaders, disciples of Jesus Christ. We are firm in our belief that, in solidarity with others, our members will collaborate in the Spirit's work of transforming the world. While this 2004 UISG declaration is a Wonderful out-come of the plenary session, an even more precious out-come is the strengthening of the "invisible ties" that bind the women religious of the world together in a spirit of solidarity and collaboration. A poetic prayer by Macrina Wiederkehr suggests an image that pertains not only to 64.2 2005 Munley ¯ Faith and Solidarity in Action the work of the UISG session, but also to the ~uture that is yet to be born: On tiptoe we stand, Lord Jesus ,, eagerly awaiting always expecting you to come some more. Our hands and heart are open to your grace. Our lives are still waiting for the fullness of your presence. We are those who have been promised a kingdom, and we can never forget. Yet we have a foot in both worlds and so we stumble. But we stand on tiptoe, owning our-kingdom-loving hearts and our earth-eyes. We lean forward and hope. (Seasons of Your Heart, 69) Those who had been present left the 2004 UISG ses-sion deeply aware that the women religious of the world are indeed "standing on tiptoe" together. Review for Religiou~ MILLIE CARGAS Women Religious in Treatment for Addictions In early childhood Sister Miriam was sexually assaulted by a family member, a parish assistant, and a neighbor down the road. These malefac-tors never had to answer for their uncon-scionable acts, but Sister Miriam (names have been changed) has paid a high price for them. After many years of competent service in the nursing profession, she was directed to go for treatment of her serious addiction to substance abuse. Sister Miriam is not alone. Many other women religious, with differing stories, have ceased functioning healthily in their ministries and communities. "Women religious" means in this article Catholic women who have taken vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience in one or other religious institute or congregation. Sisters with addictions? Women religious in rehabilitative psychological treatment programs is a difficult concept to accept when typical feel-ings toward sisters are of good, giving, self-sac- Millie Cargas is a registered art therapist (ATR), and her address is 127 Park Avenue; St. Louis, Missouri 63122. 64. 2 200Y Cargas ¯ Women Religious in Treatment for Addictions 160 rificing persons. We remember these valiant women as our teachers, as nurses, parish administrators, and other professional helpers. Often they have been highly respected and admired; people have emulated them. They are capable and articulate persons who have for-saken the materialistic world for the kingdom beyond-- and now they need therapeutic treatment? Yes, for they are human. Like all of us, they need help sometimes. No religious order has escaped the scourge of dys-functions caused by addictive behaviors. The life of Sister Anne had spiraled out of control as her weight climbed to a dangerous three hundred pounds. She could no longer play kickball with eager boys or jump rope with high-spirited girls. During a visit to her internist, Sister Anne was sternly warned of imminent death unless she took immediate steps to reduce the strain on heart and lungs. In response she claimed she had always had a weight problem just as her whole family did; it was not her fault, and nothing could be done. Her intractable anger and alarming obesity, however, limited her physical and professional activities severely and made her a difficult, contrary, and noncontributing member of her community. Sister Anne's uncontrolled addiction to food was not only causing havoc in her pro-fessional life, but was deeply affecting all her relation-ships. Though she did not see the need for treatment, leadership mandated it. This is not always the case. A significant number of other sisters ask for help, realizing, as one said, "I can no longer live this way." Humbled, she admitted her powerlessness. There are various treatment centers in North America. To mention a few: Guest House in Lake Orion, Michigan, and Emmaus Community in Elberon, New Jersey, are for sisters only. Behavioral Medicine Institute and St. Louis Consultation Center, both in St. Louis, Review for Religious Missouri, St. Luke's in Silver Spring, Maryland, Ecclesia Center in Girard, Pennsylvania, and Southdown in Ontario, Canada, are for both men and women religious. Before acceptance into a treatment program, the applicant participates in a series of pretreatment evalu-ations comprising interviews by various staff members, extensive psychological test-ing, and a thorough medical exam. Although therapeutic programs vary, the major components are individual counseling, group sessions, physical activities, spiritual direction, and programs tai-lored to individuals. Sister - - William Mary was a master gardener. Itwas her profes-sion. But gambling was her downfall. Her healthcare facility allowed, her to include gardening in her treat-ment program as long as it contributed to her recovery and was not distracting or distancing her from others. A simple definition of art therapy is using artistic materials in therapy or as therapy. Art Therapy Some treatment curriculums have incorporated art therapy as an effective therapy. This is my area of exper-tise. I have worked with Catholic women and men reli-gious for twenty-five years. I have ~ecently conducted several week-long art-therapy workshops specifically for religious women. A simple definition of art therapy is using artistic materials in therapy or as therapy. For exam-ple, the resident is given a subject and asked to paint or draw images and/or abstract designs. The imagery and other graphic dimensions of art therapy offer a unique way of identifying feelings and expressing oneself. It dif-fers considerably from verbal communication, which can 64.2 2005 Cargas ¯ Wo~nen Religious in Treat~nent for Addictions be insufficient or restricting. A case study illustrates this. Sister Katherine had joined a teaching order even though she was woefully shy and became almost inartic-ulate in group settings. She became the community financial officer. To bolster her much-needed self-con-fidence, she went on shopping sprees that her financial .resources were able to fund. This gave her illusions of power that brought her deeper and deeper into her addiction. This irresponsible money management landed her in therapy, Because she had no experience in art, Sister Katherine felt great risk at getting into it. She did so only reluctantly and even ~belligerently. But, to her great surprise and indeed pleasure, she discovered that her images had a way of speaking and engaging others that her hesitant words and extravagant spending had not. This was real progress for her. Understandably, people fear getting into something new. They fear to make mistakes, to expose their lack of artistic ability. They bring up such familiar objections as "I can't draw a straight line" and "I'm no artist" and "I haven't done art since grade school" as they fight the fears of appearing awkward and becoming embarrassed. Finding a new way of expressing oneself in colors, shapes, and designs in either representational or abstract imagery takes courage. Once they get over their fears, their endeavors are often richly rewarded. Some women revealed skills that they were unaware they had. Others had allowed their artistic talent to lie dormant for far too long. But in art therapy, whether or not the persons are artistically skilled, they eventually welcome the opportunity to go beyond words. An art-therapy badge at one convention appropriately declared, "When words are not enough!" The women in the workshops often relish their wordless therapy once they have worked through their initial resist~ince to art therapy or, more Revie~ for Religious commonly, their anger at finding themselves in treat-ment in the first place. Art Therapy Described The actual week-long art-therapy workshops are all group oriented. After a brief introduction I define the type of art which will be used in the workshop. I stress that artistic talent, no matter how people understand it, is less important than each one's own innate creativity and willingness to plunge into the activity. In these cir-cumstances there is no right or wrong way to do art. I emphasize that one cannot make mistakes, and I advise the group to ignore their own all-too-dominating inner critics. I repeatedly state throughout the week that the process is as important as the product, if not more so. Each session begins with a particular focus. Sometimes I hand out a picture, a poem, or a brief essay to assist creativity, and I always have some music played to support the theme. At age seventy-five Sister Jeanne just knew she was not going to like this mandatory part of her treatment program. But, being a prayerful per-son, she would listen to the proposed topics with her eyes closed, allow the music to seep in, and pray to the Holy Spirit for help. And helpful imagery did appear to her receptive mind and soul. She allowed her initial resis-tance to bow out gracefully and opened herself to lis-tening, ready to entertain new possibilities. Sister Jeanne was a pharmacist, and her issue was addiction to pur-loined prescription medicines. Now, if she could open herself up to some new and different perceptions and experiences, perhaps she could also consider trying alter-native ways of alleviating the pain of her arthritic con-dition. The broad themes of art therapy range from fun and pleasure to themes that are darker and more threatening. 64.2 2005 Cargas * Women Religious in Treatment for Addictions The artistic creations take on a life of their own. Sister Ren~, from Germany, had been sexually abused at a very early age. Paradoxically, she had never actually accepted the art-therapy discipline and yet always com-pleted the assignments--though without enthusiasm. Her colleagues, however, were astonished by her pow-erful imagery done in blacks and grays and blurred opaques. Even though she "resisted" art therapy, she was illuminating, minimally but really, the darkness of her horrendous experiences. Participants are free to work with the broad theme that has been proposed or to select just a small aspect of it to explore more intensively. The themes are vast and varied. Here are just a few that have proved provocative and success-ful: journey, relationships, aging, play, transforma-tion of issues, sexuality, ambiguities, emotions, self-worth, self-identity, joys, anxieties, mixed messages, and change. The "journey" theme can be depicted in any number of ways, including the classic one of marking each milestone in life. Or highlights of success or failure might be featured. Or perhaps the sisters emphasize the eternal goal of their journey. When they have completed their art pieces, each sis-ter presents hers to the group for comments and reac-tions, but specifically not for analysis. The meaning of her work is primarily for her to determine, not those who have not lived her experiences--although the oth-ers' reactions, questions, and support may bring her to deeper insights or different revelations than she origi-nally had in mind. Sister Jude, an elementary teacher with addictions to both food and alcohol, created many figures of herself. Although she was fifty-five years old, Review for Religious they all looked like little girls. She was startled when this was pointed out, but now she was in a position to acknowledge such a "disconnect" in other therapies if she so wished. At the end of the week, each person displays her total body of work to the group. There is always amazement that so much could be done in a short time, that so many issues could be covered in some depth in just a week. As Sister Norine finished presenting all of her works, she said she felt empty, completely drained. She had exhausted her psychic energy. Others in the group read-ily realized that they had similar feelings. Summing Up The art belongs to its creator. Each person does what-ever she wishes with it. Many use a particular piece in their ongoing counseling as it illustrates or illuminates a specific issue. Sister Irene's picture of her attempted sui-cide was more frightening than her bland emotionless oral description. Some pictures have deservedly been framed. Others have been shown with pride or for disclosure to trusted empathetic friends. Others have been destroyed for reasons only to be surmised. No one seems to have been untouched by the week's experiences, which brought forth a myriad of emotions, memories, and hopes. The artistic creations take on a life of their own. They give graphic evidence of people's psychic state and are more permanent than spoken words. They lend themselves to further explorations as the client grows in self-knowledge. They reveal aspects that perhaps were not noted on first viewing. During one workshop the spiritual director asked the group to bring their art on spirituality to the group session the following week. She was impressed by the images created with regard to such a profound and elusive subject. Spirituality is the bedrock 64.2 2005 Cargus * Women Religious in Treatment for Addictions for religious women, and so their attempts to capture it in art are as challenging as they are moving. It is exhilarating to observe artistry and creativity emerge while clients are learning to trust and appreciate their own endeavors. Those who never considered them-selves artistic are often amazed and delighted with their creative results. They have not become "more" artistic, but they have gone beyond their own all-too-limited per-ceptions of their creative abilities. Art has a transformative effect through its ability to transcend time, space, and earthly boundaries. The clients just described have taken risks in telling the group their own sacred stories with the help of original art that enlightens their listeners but most importantly them-selves. One treatment center director told me about being confronted by a new group of residents .upset by the announcement that the regular week's schedule was suspended and that art therapy would replace it. She told them she could not adequately explain why art therapy works or what its therapeutic benefits are, but promised it would work. The group would understand art's bene-fit more clearly and convincingly later. And they did. Creativity is healing. To call forth new possibilities-- a definition of creativity--is to find new directions toward healthier lifestyles. To create new views, rather than remain stuck in old destructive patterns, is some-thing that art can offer. The overeater can picture a thin-ner body; the alcoholic can picture a cornucopia of renewal; the burnt-out person can picture a serene land-scape; and the spendthrift can visualize a pleasing bal-ance and proportion. Art therapy cannot guarantee change, of course, but it can offer graphic glimpses of hope, and hope is a'forerunner to change. It is important to appreciate that these previously functioning women who have gone into treatment have Review for Religious been given and are taking time out for themselves, per-haps for the first time. In a lifetime of giving to others, they are now receiving. Such a respite from their ordi-nary busyness allows them to tell their stories and to explore their concerns by means of art, and art can enlarge and deepen their creative potential. The art-therapy experience encourages people to leave the abyss of addictive behavior behind and try something new. Homemade imagery can reinvigorate deadened or tired emotions and bring joy back into their lives and their spiritual selves. Accepting and working with their cre-ativity assists wounded souls to move from humiliation to humbleness and towards the kingdom where we are all meant to dwell. Easter Monday Morning Prayer 0 God of my forever rising who alone can slip twixt bones and sinews probing the marrow of my being to the dark recesses of my heart wherein by my sin you have been entombed, carving away the stone, I beg you, up-raise me this day with you again and always and forever. Alleluia. Amen. Elizabeth McDonough OP 64.2 200~ VILMA SEELAUS Asceticism and Chaste Celibate Love T biblical understanding of God is captured in ee words: God is love. Created as we are in the image and likeness of God, the core of our being is a "being-in-love" with God.1 Because of our radical con-nection with God, we are conceived and born into the world as preconscious predispositions for love. As Rahner puts it, "man is the event of God's absolute self-com-munication.'' 2 Love therefore is the root and foundation of our being. Life's deepest challenge is to fully accept and give human expression to this foundational reality of love. The vow we call consecrated chastity, or chaste celibacy, has everything to do with love. By it we open ourselves to becoming fully loving persons. Chaste love is love that is single-hearted. Single-hearted love does not of itself exclude a genital expres-sion. Chaste loving is the universal call that includes both married persons and persons who remain single. In mar- Vilma Seelaus OCD last wrote for us in September-October 1999. Her address is Carmelite Monastery; 25 Watson Avenue; Barrington, Rhode Island 02806. Review for Religious riage, love is meant to have a genital expression. The religious vow is not only of chaste love, but also of chaste celibacy intended as a total response to God's uncondi-tional love. The single-hearted love to which religious vow themselves is at the heart of the kind of loving to which we are all invited as human beings. As consecrated celibates we vow to live out in a chaste celibate way the love relationship with God, and with one another, to which all persons are invited.3 Fidelity in chaste celibate loving has its own unique call for asceticism; celibate love must include asceticism. Celibacy for God means that one has a desire to receive God's love and to become passionately in love with God, expressing it in the vow of chaste celibacy. Today we increasingly recognize what the mystics have known for centuries: that, in our universe and in the heart of every human l~erson, there is an energy which as Christians we know to be God's creating love in all that exists. St. Teresa of Avila in her Sixth Dwelling Places describes a remarkable vision in which she sees all things in God. In this vision, "God is like an immense and beautiful dwelling or palace, and this palace is God himself." Teresa now sees all things as taking place in God and therefore in Love. All human love is either an expres-sion or a distortion of this one love, namely, God's unconditional love embracing and encircling the human family. Teresa writes: Could the sinner, perhaps, so as to engage in his evil deeds leave this palace? No, certainly not; rather, within the palace itself, that is, within God himself, the abominations, indecent actions, and evil deeds committed by us sinners take place . The greatest evil of the world is that God, our Creator, suffers so many evil things from his creatures within his very self and that we sometimes resent a word said in our absence and perhaps with no evil intention.4 [16.9 64.2 2005 Seelaus * Asceticism and Chaste Celibate Lo~e How true isoit that even self-centered, narcissistic love contains within itself in a diffused, distorted way the energies ' of divine°iove? 170 Our life unfolds in God! Postmodern Christian ecolog-ical theologians see this reality as the basis of God's rad-ical immanence in the world and as the human challenge to respect and care for the ecological systems of our planet earth, symbolized as the body of God.5 Chaste loving extends itself to loving care of the world in which we live, which, in one of his less-known poems, John of the Cross images as the palace created by God for "all the members of the just," who are "the body of the bride" of the eter-nal Word.6 In viewing all of human love within the ambience of God's creat-ing energy of love, we see how out of harmony is the so-called "sexual revolu-tion," which seeks sexual pleasure apart from genuine love between persons. Yet even self-centered, narcissistic love contains within itself in a diffused, distorted way the energies of divine love. The human urgency for union with God, who alone can offer unconditional love, easily finds expression in dif-fused and distorted ways when God's love is unrecog-nized or rejected. Aware of this reality, Jesus had and has great compassion for all of us, who in ways small or great live love's distortions. Asceticism enlarges the heart to receive a greater out-pouring of God's love. It also allows the energies of divine love to flow more freely through us into the lives of others. This asceticism is a matter of self-denial and self-emptying.7 What we deny ourselves and allow God to empty out are the things within us or around us that we tend to hold on to tenaciously. The purpose of asceti- Review for Religious cism is freedom for self-surrender, not self-punishment, not the giving up of things out of self-hate. Rather, gen-uine asceticism springs from a desire to be rooted in love. It is an expression of our willingness for our love to be freed of its distortions. The asceticism that leads to self-surrender can be sustained only in prayerful com-munion with God and is itself a form of prayer. Self-sur-render softens the soil of our inner being so that stubborn willfulness may more easily be uprooted by God, leaving room for God to plant seeds of willing-ness. 8 These are seeds of the Christ-life. Frans JozefVan Beeck, the Dutch theologian, in an early work of his titled Christ Proclaimed, points out that Jesus "was with-out the need for anxious self-possession, self-mainte-nance, and self-affirmation." Jesus was content to receive his being in a stance of total surrender to his Father.9 To love is to love someone--other persons as well as God. Self-denial can be psychologically harmful and even sinful outside of the context of our relationship with other people and with God. There is, however, some-thing in our being that clings to aloneness, to private and even narcissistic self-possession, distorting the inner solitude of our uniqueness. This distortion, the denial of relatedness, is sin. Sin would have us cling to our sep-arateness as something absolute. This is an ontological illusion, but it nevertheless lures us to rest on its com-forting bosom in the hope of avoiding the pain that comes with reaching out in love. Relatedness can be painful, as we discover early. Although other persons reflect our uniqueness and help us discover our gifts and potential, they also mirror our inadequacies. As we struggle with the demands of friend-ship and human encounter, that relatedness undermines personal myths of omnipotence and reveals our finitude. The insecurity of finitude is hard to accept, and, just as 7171 64.2 200~ Seelaus * Asceticism and Chaste Celibate Love 172 others willy-nilly make demands of us, we place all kinds of expectations on ourselves to be all-knowing and all-capable, to be fully adequate to every situation. Amid these usually unconscious self-expectations, the gifts and talents of others threaten us, so we turn them off or become defensive. Insofar as we are out of touch with these inner movements, enW, jealousy, and competi-tiveness keep us outside of the unifying energies of God's love that flow between people. The opposite can also happen. Self-doubt can so overwhelm us that we give up trying. The gentle vigilance of self-knowledge is an excel-lent form of asceticism. Self-knowledge keeps us in touch with the polluting elements that can be present in love's stream. Self-knowledge looks squarely at emotional and attitudinal dams that cause love's flow to stagnate.1° It strengthens us to bear the pain of our failures as we struggle to learn new patterns of behavior more expres-sive of love. The asceticism of self-knowledge necessar-ily opens us to a deeper understanding of God in our life. God is compassionate, unconditional love; God accepts us just as we are. Imperfection is normative to our finitude. For us to be perfect is to accept the reality of our imperfection. God's only expectation seems to be that we surrender to God's Trinitarian love and that we ourselves become passionate lovers. Fasting is a very traditional and helpful form of asceticism. As self-punishment it is harmful; nevertheless, fasting can be sincere worship. It can express genuine love toward God, who is father, mother, beloved, and friend, the source of all we have and are. The stomach's empty feeling reminds us that we are a hunger for God, who alone can fill our emptiness. Fasting can be an expression of praise and adoration of the One in whom we live and move and have our being. Jesus, alive in his Review for Religious Spirit worshiping in us, becomes more than a desire; he fills our emptiness with his own praise of his Father. Like the young Carmelite Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity, we too are destined to be a "praise of His Glory." Fasting is a form of worship; it is also a form of the prayer of petition. Our finitude has many needs. We eas-ily come to the limits of our human potential, especially in the realm of love and relat-edness. Times exist when a , relationship reaches an impasse or when persons dear to us seem stuck in self-destructive tendencies, or are struggling with seemingly impossible sit-uations. Our fasting for them can be a hidden silent petition that God nourish the loved one to newness of life. Fasting can also be a prayer for the gift of detachment from the things we cling to in anxious self-possession and which keep us from self-surrender. Asceticism therefore can take many forms. It is cru-cial to the critical moments when a committed celibate is being tempted along a path whose ending would inevitably be genital intimacy. Here one is faced with the asceticism of choice. One. needs to set appropriate boundaries to love's expression while still fostering warmth and caring in the relationship. Fidelity to love is always a paschal experience. The asceticism of choice, in this instance the appropriate channeling of love's warmth, can be painful. But it is pain that is life-giving. Unlike the repression of feelings, which imprisons the self in the turmoil of unacknowledged emotions, the asceticism of choice is an encounter with greater inner freedom and is a call to growth in love. One's pain How would I explain that fasting is a form of worship and also a form of the prayer of petition ? 64.2 200Y Seelaus ¯ Asceticism and Cbaste Celibate Love becomes redemptive not only for oneself and the loved person, but for others as well, because it springs from genuine love and is a true love response. Because love is the creating energy that sustains the universe, and its energies flow through all of'humankind, it is necessarily the very heart of the church. Therefore any decision that one makes out of love and with the intent of fostering love has apostolic value. It shares in the life-giving, redemptive mission of Christ. This real-ity is worth pondering. It broadens one's understanding of the apostolate and of the meaning of mission for con-secrated celibates. We participate in God's creating action through the choices we make, and in doing so we inevitably affect the lives of others. Decisions drawn from the deep well of love enter into love's stream flowing from the womb of God, the source of life, the one life that flows through all of humankind. Even the smallest of our decisions is like the proverbial pebble thrown into the water whose ripples expand in ever widening circles. Here I am reminded of an experience in my own life that becomes increasingly meaningful. My monastery in Rhode Island is located on Narragansett Bay. Occasionally I take an early morning walk along the beach to enjoy the sunrise reflecting itself across the water. One such morning the bay was unusually calm. As I walked along I heard a sudden strong swish of incoming surf. This usually announces the changing of the tide, but the waters of the last high tide had not yet fully ebbed out. I turned and scanned the bay. In the far distance a tiny craft was speeding across the water, split-ting its quiet surface and leaving behind rolling waves of water. As the craft disappeared between the islands, the waters returned .to their previous unruffled state. The swish at my feet settled to a calm. I have experienced this phenomenon many times, Review for Religious and it never ceases to amaze me that the movements of such a small craft, hardly visible in the distance, can affect such a large expanse of water even to a distant shore. This symbolizes for me the awesome reality that the choices we make, no matter how small, are not insignif-icant. Humanity is bonded in a common stream of con-sciousness and love; the movements of one person, toward life or toward diminishment, necessarily affect the whole. Asceticism in its many forms is a prayerful desire that not only our activity but also our entire being may be apostolic, that is, life-giving for others. It fos-ters human solidarity as an enduring reality, by creating a fleer channeling of divine life through the collective body of humankind.12 Notes 1 See Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (New York: Seabury Press, 1972), p. 105. 2 Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith (New York: Seabury Press, 1978), p. 126. 3 This paper was first written in the 1970s. Since then, much of great value has been written regarding the vows. In this recent minor revi-sion, no attempt was made to connect with the fine work of recent authors. 4 In terior Castle, VI. 10.2- 3. Collected Works of St. Teresa ofAvila, Vol. 2, trans. Otilio Rodriguez OCD and Kieran Kavanaugh OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980), p. 419. s See Life Abundant: Rethinking Theology and Economy for a Planet in Peril by Sallie McFague (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001), pp. 138ff. See also the writings of Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme. 6 Romances, nos. 3-6, "On Creation," in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991), pp. 62ff. [See especially no. 4, pp. 63-64. Ed.] 7 See Vilma Seelaus OCD, Self-Emptying: Philippians 2 and the Carmelite Tradition (Washington D.C.: ICS [Audio] Publications, 2004). 8 See Gerald May MD, Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1982). 64.2 200Y Seelaus * Asceticism and Chaste Celibate Love 9 Frans Jozef Van Beeck sJ, Christ Proclaimed (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), p. 421. ,0 For a further development of the value of self-knowledge, see Vilma Seelaus OCD, "Effective Ministry through Contemplative Self- Knowledge," Review for Religious 41 (May-June 1982): 390-399. " See Elizabeth of the Trinity, The Complete Works (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1984). ~2 The asceticism of chaste celibate love has yet a deeper dimension, which is the asceticism of prayer, especially contemplative prayer. To remain faithful to love and to prayer during the painful times of dark night and the seeming void of love would be a topic in itself. See Hein Blommestijn, Jos Huls, and Kees Waaijman, The Footprints of Love: John of the Cross as Guide in the Wilderness, trans. John Vriend (Leuven [Bondgenontenlaan, 153; B-3000 Leuven; Belgium]: Peeters, 2000). Prayer Psalm 73 Let the words of the psalm help you pray: Yet with you I shall always be; you have hold of my right hand; With your counsel you guide me, and in the end you will receive me in glory. Whom else have I in heaven? And when I am with you, the earth delights me not. Though my flesh and my heart waste away, God is the rock of my heart and my portion forever. But, for me, to be near God is my good; to make the Lord God my refuge. I shall declare all your works in the gates of the daughter of Zion. Revie~v for Religious ROBBER E MALONEY Snapshots of Three Lesser-Known "Saints" In 1918 the historian Lytton Strachey said in the preface of his Eminent Victorians that in writ-ing history less is often more. In other words, true selectivity is more important than volume. He wrote: "It is not by the direct method of scrupulous narration that the explorer of the past can hope to depict a singular epoch [or per-son]. If he is wise, he will adopt a subtler strat-egy. He will row out over the great ocean of material and lower down into it, here and there, a little bucket, which will bring to the light of day some characteristic specimen . . . to be examined with a careful curiosity." Surely few events say more about pex~sons than their death. Death not only closes life, it defines it. Christians have always regarded mar-tyrdom as the preeminent form of the follow-ing of Christ. From the earliest time, martyrs captured the Christian imagination and inspired Robert E Maloney CM, the former superior general of the Congregation of the Mission (Vincentians), continues to live at Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma, Italy. 64.2 2005 Maloney ¯ Snapshots of Three Lesser-Known "Saints" 1781 others to incredible heroism in living the Gospels even to the end. The Book of Revelation sings the praise of these heroes: "Love for life did not deter them from death" (12:11). Some, of course, renounce their faith rather than die a martyr's death. But for others, some-times even people whose lives seemed mediocre, death is their finest hour. In Shakespeare's Macbeth (I,iv), Malcolm says of the previous thane of Cawdor: "Nothing in his life / became him like the leaving it; he died / as one that had been studied in his death / to throw away the dear-est thing he ow'd / as 'twere a careless trifle." In this brief article, I offer a snapshots of the deaths of three lesser-known martyrs who in turbulent times were like a "lamp shining in a dark place" (2 P 1:19). Joseph Chow Tsi-Che Did you ever want to be pope? I have sometimes heard Catholics say, with a bit of humor and a bit of frus-tration: "If I were pope for a week, here is what I would do!" Of course, very few of us get that opportunity. But a priest of my own community, whom some of my older friends knew, was actually offered the job. Joseph Chow was born in 1891 in Shijiazhuang, about 180 miles south of Beijing. He made his vows in the Congregation of the Mission in 1915 and was ordained to the priesthood four years later. After serving as a pro-fessor in the minor seminary in his hometown and then as a philosophy professor in the major seminary of Beijing, he was ordained a bishop in 1931, serving ini-tially as the vicar apostolic in Baoding, not far from his birthplace. In 1946 he was named the archbishop of Nanchang, much farther to the south, a city I visited a number of years ago, where his memory is still revered. In 1950, soon after the establishment of the revolu-tionary government in China, Joseph received the invi- Review for Religious tation to become pope. A delegation from Beijing came to visit him. A writer of the time describes their con-versation as follows: "Because you have so many gifts, you have been des-ignated to be the head of the Progressive Chinese Church. Are you willing to become the pope of China?" "Do you really believe that I have the necessary qualities?" "We do." "In that case, I would prefer to become the pope of the entire world." The delegation left, angry at his refusal. From then on, he was kept under constant surveillance. In May 1951 he was arrested, tried, found guilty, and thrown into prison. The charges against him were that he had opposed the reform of the church, that he had listened to the Voice of America, and that he had recruited members for the Legion of Mary. He was condemned to forced labor, toiling in isol'ation for twenty-two Joseph Chow renounced a very prestigious offer: to be the pope of China. ConSequently, he endured a slow, arduous, hidden martyrdom. years. Just before his death he was released, so that he would not die in prison, and was carried to the home of a Christian in Nanchang. There he went peacefully to the Lord. By all accounts Joseph Chow was an extraordinarily gifted man. Those who knew him attest that he was good-humored, quite funny at times, but very clear in what he believed. He surely knew what he was willing 179 64.2 2005 Maloney ¯ Snapshots of Tbree Lesser-Known "Saints" to die for. He renounced a very prestigious offer: to be the pope of China. Consequently, he endured a slow, arduous, hidden martyrdom. In the end the government, by freeing him from prison several days before his death, tried to deprive him of the title of martyr, but Catholics in China today recognize that he was precisely that. 180 Jean Le Vacher I doubt that Jean Le Vacher will ever be beatified, even though the cause for his beatification was actually introduced in 1923. Jean was born in Val-d'Oise, France, on 15 March 1619 and entered the seminary along with his brother Philippe on 5 October 1643. He was ordained a priest in 1647 and went to Tunis almost immediately. Within a year after his arrival, the superior of the mission there died, as did the French government's representative in Tunis. Jean, at the age of twenty-nine, was named both head of the mission and French consul, a combi-nation of jobs which seems strange to us today. Two years later he also became vicar apostolic. Twenty-five years later, history repeated itself in Jean's life. Having been named vicar apostolic of both Algeria and Tunis, he again became the French consul, this time in Algeria. That is the root of the problems surrounding his beatification. On the one hand, Jean was a remarkably zealous missionary, laboring for years among the slaves in the capital, whom he estimated to number about fifteen thousand. But he was also the con-sul, a difficult political post at a time when relations between France and Algeria were steadily worsening. In late June 1683, fighting broke out. The French fleet began to bombard the capital. At the same time a plague raged within the city. The Turkish forces in Algeria asked Le Vacher to mediate peace. He, two Turkish diplomats, and an interpreter arrived under a Review for Religious white flag at the French admiral's ship. As negotiations dragged on, Admiral Duquesne was inflexible and at one point yelled at Le Vacher: "You,re more a Turk than a Christian!" During the negotiations one of the Turkish diplomats deceived the French, promising to work with them to reinstate their control over Algeria. But, once back on land, he himself seized power and began to fire on the fleet again. When the French retaliated, Le Vacher was arrested, along with the few other French citizens who remained in the capital. Le Vacher's martyrdom took place on 16 July 1683, toward sunset, on a small pier in the port. He was asked to renounce his faith and declare himself a Muslim. Instead, he bade farewell to the Christian slaves in a loud clear voice and exhorted them to remain firm in their faith. He was tied to a wooden frame which was then attached to the mouth of a cannon. Then a little drama occurred which it is affecting to recall in the midst of all the strife in the Middle East and North Africa today. None of the Muslims in the crowd was willing to light the cannon's fuse. Many Jews were there, but they too were unwilling. Finally a renegade Christian lit the fuse. Le Vacher was blown to pieces. Ten other Frenchmen followed him to the same type of death. The French campaign was ultimately unsuccessful; a shortage of supplies forced Admiral Duquesne to return home. Because of Jean Le Vacher's political post, some have questioned whether he was really a martyr. Reading the accounts of his death, I have little doubt myself. He died professing his faith courageously and encouraging others to profess it too. In fact, many followed him to death. Marguerite Rutan Marguerite Rutan was born in Metz in 1736. There, at the age of twenty, she began her postulancy in a hos- 181 64.2 200Y Maloney ¯ Snapshots of Three Lesser-Known "Saints" 182 pital as a Daughter of Charity. A year later, on her birth-day, she entered the novitiate in Paris and just five months afterwards was sent to serve at a hospital in Pau. She had the happiness of seeing her two sisters enter the same community shortly after her and the sadness of seeing both of them die at a young age. From Pau she moved to several other hospitals, finally arriving in Dax, near the border of Spain, where in 1779 she was named superior. Ten years later, with the outbreak of the French rev-olution, life became increasingly difficult for the sisters. Resources for the running of the hospital were scarce. The government provided fewer and fewer funds. After 3 October 1793 all sisters employed in running hospitals and schools had to choose between taking the oath of allegiance to the state church or leaving the institutions where they served. Sister Marguerite and her companions refused the oath. From then on they were constantly under surveillance, but their services in the hospital were so needed that they were allowed to continue. Finally, however, on 24 December 1793, Marguerite was arrested on charges of "corrupting the revolutionary, republican spirit of the soldiers who went to this hospital." What had happened, in fact, was that a group of sol-diers, to express gratitude for the care given in the hos-pital, returned to do some songs for the sisters. Sister Marguerite stopped to listen to them, offered them refreshments, and gave them some money. That was her crime. She was taken to a prison at the nearby Carmelite house. At the beginning of March 1794, a guillotine was constructed in the central ~quare of Dax. Simultaneously most prisoners were transferred to another city, but Marguerite was left in the Carmelite prison, a sign that her fate had already been decided. After a brief trial, her name was placed upon the list of those to be guillotined. A commission arrived in Dax Review for Religious to review the cases of those facing capital punishment. On 9 April after a quick hearing in which the same charges were repeated, Marguerite was condemned to death. The sentence was to be carried out immediately. She and the local cur~, also condemned, were tied back to back, placed on a cart with soldiers surrounding them, and rushed to the execution place accompanied by the sound of tambourines. Having first witnessed the behead-ing of the cur~, Marguerite asked the executioner not to assist her and mounted the scaffold by herself, removed the shawl from around her shoulders, put her head on the guillotine, and was executed. In their accounts of Marguerite's death, all observers noted her dignity. She seems to have been undaunted by the prospect of death, wearing those around her gently while speaking her mind clearly and unflinchingly right to the end. Tertullian tells us that "the blood of Christians is seed" (Apology 50.13). The martyrs strengthen those who come after them. They demonstrate that some things are worth dying for. By their witness they proclaim that fidelity to one's central commitments is more important than life itself. In the darkness of persecutions or of oppressive regimes, martyrs are like flashes of lightning that illumi-nate the nighttime sky, a surge of electricity that ener-gizes those who live on beyond them. The church has been blessed by many such martyrs right up to the present. This great "cloud of witnesses" (Heb 12:1) strengthens us to be faithful, no matter what the cost. 183 64.2 2005 JULIANA DEVOY Learning to Live Serenely: The Wisdom of Francis de Sales 184, Ewvery day in the Eucharistic liturgy we pray the ords "Protect us from all anxiety." The daily repetition of this invocation is not without meaning. We have only to open the newspaper or turn on the evening news to find plenty of material for angst. After 9/11 and its consequences, not only individuals but whole nations are experiencing increased anxiety. But it is not only the world scene that disturbs us. We witness divisions in the church, breakdowns of family life, loved ones' illnesses, financial reversals, and many other problems that threaten our peace of heart. Undue worry, anxiety, and agitation not only are detrimental to our psychological well-being, but also impede our spiritual growth. A spiritual guide who can teach us serenity and Christian optimism no matter what happens in the world is St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622), bishop and doctor of the church, a man with a wonderfully balanced and integrated personality, who combined a deep spirituality Juliana Devoy RGS last wrote for us in May-June 1999. Her address remains Good Shepherd Sisters; 30 Estrada da Vitoria; Macao. with a penetrating insight into human psychology. Separated from him by a cultural, theological, and linguistic gulf of four centuries, we nevertheless find in his published works and in his letters of spiritual direction gems of wisdom which, if we take the trouble to extract them, will both counsel and console us on our spiritual journey. In this essay we will examine several points of Salesian spirituality that can aid us in gracious living and tranquillity of spirit. Befriending Reality In his Introduction to the Devout Life, Francis says that, aside from sin, anxiety is the greatest evil that can happen to us. "It proceeds," he says, "from an inordinate desire to be freed from a present evil or to acquire a hoped-for good. Yet there is nothing that tends more to increase evil and prevent enjoyment of good than to be disturbed and anxious.''~ In one of his colorful images, he likens anxiety to birds caught in a net: the more they flap their wings trying to escape, the more they become entangled. Francis knew well what he was talking about. As a nineteen-year-old student in Paris, he had undergone a spiritual crisis over predestination, asking himself whether it was possible for him to be separated from God for all eternity. The moral and spiritual anguish that he suffered was so great that he fell ill and could not sleep or eat. The crisis was resolved only when he abandoned himself unconditionally to God's love, praying for the grace to love God here and now if he could not love God in eternity.2 Francis emerged from his persOnal "dark night" with two profound convictions about reality: his radical dependence on God and God's utter trustworthiness. In the Salesian worldview, creation is suffused with God's goodness and our peace is found in conformity to 64.2 2005 Devoy ¯ Learning to Live Serenely ~DO we live ,the truth, that every vocation is the lo~cus fo~" meeting God andeve~ Christian is called to a life of holiness,? -°186 God's will because God is a GodJbr us. Our particular life circumstances are where we will find God. Francis, therefore, counsels a loving acceptance of the situation in ¯ . which we find ourselves. His Introduction was written especially for lay people who desired to live in closer intimacy with God. Predating Vatican Council II by hundreds of years, he taught that every vocation is the locus for meeting God and that every Christian is called to a life of holiness. But the way to holiness would be different for everyone because the practice of devotion must "be adapted to the strength, activities, and duties of each particular person." A bishop is not called to live like a Carthusian, nor a skilled workman to spend his day in church like a religious. There is no need to emulate the lifestyle or the virtues proper to a vocation that is not one's own. His letters of direction illustrate this teaching in practice: I should like you to consider how many saints, both men and women, have lived in the married state like you, and that they all accepted this vocation readily and gladly. We must love all that God loves, and he loves our vocation; so let us love it too and not waste our energy hankering after a different sort of life, but get on with our own job. Know that God wishes nothing else of you save what he sends at the moment, and do not be on the lookout for other things . What is the use of building castles in Spain when you have to live in France? What a marvelous thing you said when you wrote to me: as long as I am serving God I don't care what kind of sauce he puts me in . Come now, you Review for Religious know very well into what sauce he has put you, into what state of life and condition; and, tell me, is it all the same to you?3 But it would be a mistake to imagine that what is being advocated is a passive acceptance of the status quo. In his Treatise on the Love of God, Francis devotes a large section to "The Will of God.''4 He distinguishes between God's signified will and the will of God's good pleasure. Although obviously God has only one will, our discernment of what God wants of us will have to take account of two different sets of realities. In the first case we are guided by the commandments, the counsels, teachings of the church, and holy inspirations. When there is question of something clearly ordained by God, there is nothing to discern; we have only to obey. For choosing a vocation, however, or choosing one action rather than another, Francis counsels a great liberty of spirit since it is impossible to know God's will absolutely. In important matters we should pray, consult a spiritual director, and then do what we think is best. Even if doubts arise afterwards about whether we chose well, we should remain in peace and continue on the course we have chosen. In lesser matters we should "do freely what seems good to us, so as not to weary our minds, waste our time, and put ourselves in danger of disquiet, scruples, and superstition." The "will of God's good pleasure" is God's will already done. It is the actual circumstances of our lives, the "sauce in which God has placed us," the events that take place and the things that exist outside our control. It is not that God causes everything that happens, but that "whatever is, is in some way within God's providence; it is not outside the loving embrace of the creative and redempt

Issue 55.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1996. ; for religi ous Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 199-~ * VOLUME 55 ¯ NUMBER 5 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their ~ersonal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, prhctical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point If view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) i! published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits o,'f the Missouri Province¯ Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St.!Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯Fax~: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPPEMA@SLU~ZCI.SLU.EDU Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonoug.~ OP 1150 Cedar Cove R~oad ¯ Hendelson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER ¯ Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.( Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, See inside back cover for information ¯ Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. hnd additional mailing offices. 3n subscription rates. ©1996 Review for Rel ious Permission is herewith granted to copv any material (article]s, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Rehglous for personal or ~nternal use, or for the personal or ~nternal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 anl:l/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear n~tice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1996 ¯ VOLUME55 ¯ NUMBER5 contents consecrated life 454 462 Vita Consecrata: A Vocation for the Third Millennium Rose McDermott SSJ summarizes the content of John Paul's apostolic exhortation on consecrated life and highlights a few of its provisions. The Holy Spirit in Church Documents on the Consecrated Life Sally Ann Brickner OSF examines the increasing recognition by church documents of the role of the Holy Spirit in consecrated-life renewal. seeking God 474 Vocations and the Crisis of Communal Life 485 Terrance Wayne Klein identifies three areas of concern for vocational recruitment: contact with ministerial mentors, a growing spiritual freedom in those seeking ministry, and a sense of enhancing community life. Reflections of a Fin de SiOcle Novice Michael Tidd FSC reviews his novitiate experience to clarify elements of formation central to apostolic life. --450 Review for Religious 494 5O6 breaking boundaries Racism and Religious Life Clemente Barr6n CP gives gentle and honest witness to an experience of racism that infects good people in the church and in religious life. Movement from Monocultural to Multicultural Congregations Gary Riebe-Estrella SVD suggests that what racially distinct groups offer is the opportunity to incarnate for our church and world the gospel's "Good Samaritan" model of persons letting their physical proximity turn them into neighbors. 521 527 living spiritually Perseverance: Letting the Goodness Out Melannie Svoboda SND explores factors that facilitate our practice of the virtue of perseverance. Friends through Prayer Eugene M. Rooney SJ reemphasizes the importance of prayer as a way of communication and support in a world of e-mail and fax. departments 452 Prisms 533 Canonical Counsel: The Role of Councils in Religious Governance 540 Book Reviews Septe~nber-October 1996 prisms ~ita consecrata, the papal exhortation which completed the work of the synod of bishops deal-ing with consecrated life in the church, has only just begun to be studied. First public reactions to the document seem to have been quite favorable. Of course, there will be critique--inevitable, and abso-lutely necessary if there is to be continuing development and growth. One observation made immediately upon publication was about the daunting length of the docu-ment. Although there are only three chapters, along with an introduction and a conclusion, the text is substantial and typical of the dense style of writing associated with Pope John Paul. Perhaps a saving factor in a long text is that there seems to be "something in it for everyone." Of course, there is likely something to disconcert everyone too. Some have already expressed dissatisfaction with the English translation "objective superiority" (§18 and §32) applied to consecrated life. Some are disappointed with the inconclusiveness of the equal stance of brothers in relation to priests in what is called a "mixed" institute; further work by a study commission is promised for a deci-sion. While new forms of consecrated life are acknowl-edged and praised, a proposed commission to determine criteria of authenticity and of approval suggests a stance of caution. Although there is a strong positive stance towards the specific contribution of women religious, what is referred to as "new possibilities of presence and action on the part of consecrated women" may need more to be Revlew for Religious acknowledged as already a fact in many parts of the church than a future yet to be realized. But important as the resolution of these practical matters will be for the proper development of consecrated lifeforms, I believe that the approach taken by the pope in the first chapter is hugely significant for a theological understanding and a spiritual appre-ciation of consecrated life. The pope does not take up the tools of philosophy, theology, anthropology, sociology, or behaviorial sci-ences for his primary approach to consecrated life. Instead he proposes the gospel passage of Jesus' transfiguration and suggests that we approach it as if it ycere an icon. This transfiguration icon involves a gazing on the face of Jesus both in a "going up the mountain" and a "coming down the mountain." The pope refers to an ancient spiritual tradition which links the contemplative life to the prayer of Jesus on the moun-tain. But then he adds that the active dimension of consecrated life can be included because the transfiguration event serves as prepa-ration to share with Jesus in the "toil of God's plan" and to be with him "courageously on the way of the cross." In using the sacramentality of the icon, we Christians enter sacred time and space. Through a communion with the mystery signified by an icon, tradition holds that the believer is being made-holy. An icon can be studied for the meanings of its sym-bolism, and so there is an intellectual component. Through reflec-tions on various themes stimulated by the gospel passage, John Paul develops a contemporary understanding of consecrated life. But always the focus remains the icon giving us an experience of a divine world. For our understanding and appreciation of conse-crated life, then, Vita consecrata presents us with a gospel text to suggest cognitive content and an iconic vision of the divine: by gazing upon the face of Jesus, we enter into the mystery of con-secrated life in the church and its centering world of holiness. Review for Religious takes pride in making available the text of Vita consecrata, along with a wealth of other contextual arti-cles, in The Church and Consecrated Life. The book costs $18.95 plus postage; it can be ordered from our St. Louis office. See the order form at the end of this issue. David L. Fleming SJ September-October 1996 consecrated life ROSE McDERMOTT Vita Consecrata: A Vocation for the Third Millennium When Pope Paul VI inaugurated the Synod of Bishops on 15 September 1965, he desired that it examine a selected topic in the light of church teachings and the experience of the particular churches. The synod, repre-senting the universal church, would provide the pope and world's bishops with effective collaboration and helpful insights in their shared concern for the Christian faithful throughout the world. Under date of 25 March 1996, the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord, Pope John Paul II promulgated Vita consecrata, the apostolic exhortation for the ninth ordinary session of the Synod of Bishops, held 2 through 29 October 1994. This document marks the completion of the study of the three principal vocations in the church. The priesthood was discussed in the second (1971) and eighth (1990) general sessions and the vocation to the lay state in the seventh (1987) session. Those who have studied the preparatory documents and followed the synod interventions and discussions will find no great surprises in the apostolic exhortation. Rather, it is a fine synthesis of the church's teaching on conse-crated life and its lived reality in the various parts of the world. The document shows the fruits of the consultative process encouraged by the synod's lineamenta document Rose McDermott SSJ, of the Department of Canon Law at Catholic University, last wrote for us in March-April 1995. Her address is Visitation Convent; 1524 35th Street, N.W.; Washington, D.C. 20007. Review for Religions and the contributions of the bishops and other participants gath-ered from around the world for the actual synod assembly. The present article reviews the church's teaching on conse-crated life as reflected in the apostolic exhortation and points to potential developments mentioned in the same document. Since PTta consecrata is hortatory and not legislative, the developments indicated in the document will be the subjects of further theo-logical and canonical study and authoritative deliberations. The Church's Teaching on Consecrated Life The introduction to the apostolic exhortation (§§1-13) describes consecrated life in its gospel beginnings, offers gratitude to God for this gift to the church, and expresses the apostolic exhortation's purpose: to put forth the fruits of this synod session, which has studied this vocation and its contribution to the church's mission. Six forms of consecrated life are presented, with a final paragraph noting the new expressions of the vocation present in the vari-ous churches today. Pope John Paul recognizes that the exhorta-tion is far from the final word on consecrated life. He offers the document to encourage those consecrated by the profession of the counsels to meet the challenges of today's world. Chapter I of the exhortation, Confessio Trinitatis (§§14-40), con-templates the vocation to consecrated life within the gospel icon of the Transfiguration. Persons responding to this vocation have caught a glimpse of the glory of God; he becomes the driving force of their life and activity. Configured to Christ chaste, poor, and obedient, they enjoy an intimacy with the community of the Trinity in their willingness to leave all and follow Christ in an ever deeper response to their baptismal commitment. Consecrated persons are beloved of the Father, who sends them forth--as he did Christ and the Spirit--in dedicated service to the world. This vocation cannot be lived without willing entry into the paschal mystery of suffering. The moment of glory on the mount strengthened the faith of the apostles and prepared them for their own suffering and martyrdom. So, too, the consecrated person embraces a life of labor, suffering, and abandonment to the Father's will. Yet Peter's remark is on the lips of those configured to Christ through this vocation: "Lord, it is good for us to be here." Consecrated life cannot be lived apart from the church; it belongs inextricably to its life and holiness. Through the profes- September-October 1996 McDermott ¯ Vita Consecrata sion of the counsels, consecrated persons offer a vibrant witness to the life and teachings of Christ. They are nourished through liturgical and personal prayer and traditional ascetic practices in the church. Meeting the spiritual combat in their own lives enables consecrated persons to transform the world in humility, detach-ment, and reliance on God. Chapter 2, Signum Fraternitatis (§§41-71). All forms of con-secrated life manifest communion in imitation of Christ's life within the Trinitarian community and in the company of the Twelve. This communion is particularly lived out in religious institutes and societies of apostolic life where the members live in common, supporting one another in the spiritual life and in the apostolate. Members of secular institutes are joined in community with one another through their charism and their embrace of the community in which they live and labor. The church, a mystery of communion (Ac 2:42-47), depends on consecrated persons to give witness to community in an often fragmented and broken world. Within the ecclesial community the bishop looks after the charisms for the good of all the faith-ful. While institutes of consecrated life enjoy a rightful auton-omy of life and governance, they should cooperate with the respective bishops, sharing their goals and apostolates with them. Lay persons recognize the value of communities of conse-crated persons. They seek to attach themselves to them, sharing their spirituality and assisting in their apostolates. These associ-ates and volunteers should be fostered and formed so that they appreciate their lay vocation more deeply and readily lend them-selves to apostolic endeavor in their particular churches. Likewise, formation programs for candidates should reflect human, com-munal, apostolic, cultural, and professional dimensions adapted to the whole person. Chapter 3, Servitium Caritatis (~'§72-103). The mission of those consecrated by profession of the evangelical counsels is one of communicating God's love to the world. One is consecrated and sent (Jn 10:36). The challenges of today's world demand a strong interior life of consecrated persons, a life deeply in tune with the Spirit of God. Through their charisms, members of institutes of consecrated life witness a particu!al~ aspect of the gospel message to those they serve. The universal character of their institutes permits them to join with other ecclesial ministers in carrying out the church's Review for Religious . mission through evangelization, ecumenical and interreligious dialogues, inculturation, the preferential option for the poor, and the promotion of justice. Through their profession of chastity, poverty, and obedience, consecrated persons offer a prophetic witness to the world and address the challenges of a hedonistic culture, materialism, and a distorted use of freedom. The community dimension of conse-crated life teaches the universal call to holiness regardless of differences and human limitations. This prophetic wit-ness is the fruit of a deep spiritual life and an openness to God's word in litur-gical and personal prayer. The apostolic exhortation's Conclusion. The document ends as it began, in grat-itude to God and to those who "waste" their lives in what seems at times an irrelevant commitment, a life poured out in selfless love and service. This vocation as an essential part ofthe church's life and holiness. Consecrated persons contribute with unbounded generosity to the various aspects of the mission of the church. The pope exhorts consecrated persons to live fully the life they have embraced, a life of The document ends as it began, in gratitude to God and to those who "waste" their lives in what seems at times an irrelevant commitment, a life poured out in selfless love and service. continual conversion and dedication to Christ, challenged by the new millennium, but focused on the world to come. A prayer addressed to the Trinity and an invocation to the Virgin of the Visitation for consecrated women and men bring the document to an end. Potential Developments in Consecrated Life New institutes, new forms, new ecclesial movements (§§12 and 62). The Holy Spirit revitalizes the ecclesial community through a variety of new gifts. These charisms can be seen in the embry-onic beginnings of new institutes of consecrated life that meet the present theological and canonical criteria. Other develop-ments seem to be new forms of consecrated life and must await approval from the Apostolic See. Still other "evangelical lifestyles" September-October 1996 McDermott ¯ Vita Gonsecrata that possess some of the characteristics of consecrated life and various other forms of Christian witness would seem to be more accurately categorized as associations of the faithful. Pope John Paul has encouraged these developments in his weekly general audiences during the synod and in the apostolic exhortation. He recognizes them as a true sign of the charismatic nature of the church. This wealth of new gifts is received by the church with grat-itude. These charisms do not substitute fox~ the traditional ones approved by the church throughout its history. Rather, they should complement the older forms and continue in their rich tradition. Bishops have requested more exact criteria in order to discern and distinguish these new developments. A commission has been set up (1) to deal with questions relating to these new forms, (2) to determine criteria to assist church authorities in their dis-cernment and decision making regarding them, and (3) to pre-sent those officially approved as new forms of consecrated life to the faithful. Legislation for cloister (§Yg). The church has always held the contemplative life in highest esteem and has provided norms on cloister to preserve the values inherent in this vocation. While men religious dedicated totally to the contemplative life regulate their cloister (canon 667, §2), women religious totally given to the contemplative life observe cloister in accord with the norms issued by the Apostolic See (c. 667, §3). This difference in the provisions for the cloister of men and women contemplative religious seems contradictory to canon 606, which provides equality in the common law for men and women religious. The cloistral norms seem contrary also to canon 586, which assures all religious institutes a true autonomy to direct their own life and governance in accord with the patrimony of the institute. Women religious institutes dedicated totally to the contemplative life represent a rich variety of monastic and men-dicant traditions. Yet all are obliged to papal cloister without due regard for their varied charisms. Pope John Paul assures us in §59 that careful consideration will be given the concerns addressed by the participants of the synod with regard to this issue. It should be noted that many of the diocesan bishops participating in the synod assembly asked contemplative men and women', to share their prayer life and extend their hospitality to clerics, la~ people, and other religious Review for Religious who seek spiritual renewal. The exhortation assures that more authority will be given major superiors ofsui iuris monasteries to grant dispensations from enclosure for just and sufficient reasons in keeping with conciliar renewal. This provision would be in keeping with the principle of subsidiarity and enable institutes of contemplative life to express their charisms better in their clois-ter regulations. Associates and volunteers joined to institutes of consecrated life (§ Y 6). Before the Second Vatican Council, only religious orders with an apostolic indult were permitted to have third orders secular attached to them. Conciliar teaching placed great emphasis on an ecclesiology of communion that had noteworthy implications for the rela-tionship of the laity With institutes of con-secrated life. Today all religious institutes without distinction can have members of the laity associated with them, sharing their spirituality and joining in their apos-tolic works. This phenomenon was rec-ognized in the preparatory documents of the synod and lauded by the participants in the assembly. Paragraph 56 of the apostolic exhor-tation notes the increasing number of associates and lay volunteers joined to institutes of consecrated life. Vv'hile the exhortation cautions the protection of the identity of these same institutes, it encourages a proper preparation of the lay people joined to them in order that they approach their apostolic com-mitments with supernatural intentions anda strong sense of com-munity. Lay persons in decision-making positions in the apostolates of these institutes should promote the ends of the institute and carry out their labors under its competent superiors. Directives approved by proper authorities need to be provided in such cases. Mixed institutes (§61). Some institutes of men religious, par-ticularly those sharing the Franciscan charism, are neither lay nor clerical from their foundation. In keeping with the intention of their founder, they admit both clerics and laymen to the insti-tute. All are friars or brothers with equal rights and obligations in Today all religious institutes without distinction can have members of the laity associated with them, sharing their spirituality and joining in their apostolic works. September-October 1996 McDermott ¯ Vita Consecrata the institute, prescinding from their lay or clerical status. Conciliar and postconciliar teachings support this fundamental equality of all members and their participation in the life and governance of the institute. The universal law of the church, however, makes no provision for these mixed institutes. It provides only for cler-ical or lay institutes in accord with their foundation, traditions, and end. Likewise, in many of these mixed institutes, some offices require daat the members be ordained. The synod assembly proposed that, when the general chapter of such an institute reque.sted, all offices of governance within these institutes be open to members without distinction. This proposal would be in conformity with the intention of the founders that all members be equal in the life and governance of the institute. Paragraph 61 of the apostolic exhortation recom-mends that such institutes study the original inspiration of their founder. In the meantime a special commission has been estab-lished to examine and resolve the problems concerning this issue. Mutual relations of bishops and consecrated persons (~§48-50). The ecclesiology of communion has led to an intense reflection on the role of consecrated life within the life and apostolate of the particular churches. While institutes of consecrated life are uni-versal by nature, the vocation of their individual members is lived out in a particular church. In 1978 the congregations for bish-ops and for institutes of consecrated life published the document Mutuae relationes, a compilation of directives for effective mutual relations between bishops and religious. These directives exhort bishops and major superiors to collaborate more effectively at the national level through their respective conferences and at the local level through meetings of the diocesan bishops with the major superiors whose members serve the particular church. The synod assembly recommended a revision of this docu-ment which would reflect the developments in this area, particu-larly as reflected in the legislation of the Latin and Eastern churches. In keeping with the synod proposal, the exhortation recommends that delegates from the conferences of bishops par-ticipate in the conferences of major superiors of their nations and that delegates from these latter conferences participate in the meetings of the episcopal conferences. It further proposes that the theology and spirituality of consecrated life be an integral part of the preparation of diocesan priests. Likewise, the study of ecclesiology should be included in the formation program for Review for Religious members of institutes of consecrated life. Pope John Paul con-curs with the members of the synod in hoping that this spirit of communion and cooperation be extended to the entire church. Perhaps a revision and expansion ofMutuae relationes will be pre-sented in the near future. Conclusion As the apostolic exhortation concludes with a reference to Mary, Virgin of the Visitation, it is appropriate that this article end in like manner. Mary, her heart filled with Christ, went forth to serve Elizabeth. Consecrated persons configured to Christ stand ready to meet the needs of people in the third millennium. And with Peter in his ecstasy they cry, "Lord, it is good for us to be here." Abba At the shore where sea and sky and land meet and waves pound the rocks with constant rhythm, I find myself caught up by the stout winds, drawn by the salt air and combative gulls. Here is where I face God in his might yet also encounter him in beauty . Sunsets beckon like fringes of heaven while shorebirds encompass the lilt of hope. I am a mere grain of eternity yet I'm always within God's providence and like the back and forth surge of the tide am drawn into the core of a loving heart. Neil C. Fitzgerald September-October 1996 SALLY ANN BRICKNER The Holy Spirit in Church Documents on the Consecrated Life Twhheen Stheceo cnhdu Vrcaht irceafnl eCcoteudn coinl witsa so twhen encactluersei oalnodg imcails msioonm. eInnt convoking the council Pope John XXIII requested that it be pas-toral in tone and call the entire church to renewal so that its mis-sion, which is none other than Christ's mission of establishing the reign of God, be accomplished through the power of the Holy Spirit. Pope John Paul II, in his recent apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata, says of consecrated life: "Its universal presence and the evangelical nature of its witness are clear evidence., that the consecrated life is not something isolated and marginal, but a reality which affects the whole church. In effect, the consecrated life is at the very heart of the church as a decisive element for her mission since it 'manifests the inner nature of the Christian calling' and the striving of the whole church as bride toward union with her one Spouse" (§3). The appropriate renewal of the con-secrated life, therefore, is essential to renewal in the church.1 Since the close of the council in December 1965, develop-ments in ecclesiology, in the church's thinking about its nature as mystery and as the universal sacrament of salvation, have fre-quently focused on the Holy Spirit. Vita consecrata reflects this: "Like the whole of Christian life, the call to the consecrated life is closely linked to the working of the Holy Spirit" (§ 19). Through Sally Ann Brickner OSF is a faculty member at St. Norbert College. Her address is Sisters of St. Francis of the Holy Cross; 2413 South Webster Avenue; Green Bay, Wisconsin 54301. Review for Religious a study of this and other recent church documents, this essay demonstrates that pneumatology has become important in the ecclesiological understanding of the consecrated life and that this emphasis has implications for its continuing renewal. This study proceeds chronologically through the two concil-iar documents and the eight postconciliar documents that explic-itly treat the consecrated life. A brief explanation of pneumatology provides a backdrop for the analysis. The study concludes with a discussion of the implications of this ecclesiological doctrine for the continuing appropriate renewal of the consecrated life. What Is Pneumatology? The Greek word pneuma means breath, air, wind, soul, spirit. Pneumatology, then, is the branch of systematic theology that studies the Person and work of the I-Ioly Spirit.2 The t-Ioly Spirit has been virtually lost from much of Christian consciousness, some theologians claim. The Spirit of God manifests herself through various actions: vivifying, renewing and empowering, gracing. The Holy Spirit is the mutual rela-tionship of love within the community (koinonia) of the Godhead, freely going forth to renew, to liberate.3 It is the Spirit who makes it possible for us to know and experience Christ. Christ's life in us and our life in Christ is ecclesial in the sense that Christ's Spirit is the principle of communication and communion.4 "The church is the body of Christ, because Christ is a pneumatological being, born and exist-ing in the koinonia of the Spirit.''5 Christ is the head of the church, and the Holy Spirit is the heart of the church. Word and Spirit are the two hands of God at work building God's reign.6 The church has come to understand the Holy Spirit also through the Spirit's free gifts, charisms, "to perform distinct and mutually complementary functions in building up the body of Christ." Charisma must be understood in relation to charis, "grace" that God gives for the common good and the renewal of the church in all eras.7 Charisms are not extraordinary, ecstatic gifts reserved to a few persons. Rather, they are the obvious ways "through which the Spirit structures the church by rousing from Christ is the head of the church, and the Holy Spirit is the heart of the church. September-October 1996 Brickner ¯ The Hol~ Spirit in Church Documents within the services and functions of the community according to the diversity and qualities of each member. In this perspective there is no opposition between charism and institution. A ministry is normally the expression of a charism, and a permanent charism takes the form of a ministry or a service." Charism also refers to the gifts which inspire the choice of a particular state of life such as marriage or celibacy. But in the end neither charism nor insti-tution will exist. Charity alone endures and is the true measure and strength of any charism,s Against this backdrop about pneumatology and its relationship to ecclesiology, we can now examine pneumatology in documents pertaining to the consecrated life. What pneumatology is evi-dent? Does development occur in pneumatology? Conciliar Documents Before examining the two conciliar texts, it will be beneficial to consider briefly whether and how pneumatology was approached by the council fathers. It has been said that the eccle-siology of Vatican Council II is pneumatological as well as Christocentric, and ultimately theocentric.9 Yves Congar, the renowned theologian of this century and peritus of the council, claims that its ecclesiology is pneumatological though not pneu-matocentric. 1° It stresses, first and foremost, that the Spirit is the Spirit of Christ, building up the Body of Christ. The documents depict both a visible and a spiritual manifestation of the Spirit who animates the church here and now. The council fathers rec-ognize multiple charisms, the infinite variety of gifts which the -Holy Spirit gives for the common good and the renewal of the church. The council also affirms that the Holy Spirit calls and gathers the people of God into communion, both within partic-ular churches as well as within the universal church.11 Whether these pneumatological perspectives appear in the two council texts specifically dealing with the consecrated life is the issue to which we now turn. Lumen Gentium (1964) In this primordial document, chapters 5, "Call of the Whole Church to Holiness," and 6, "Religious," speak of the Holy Spirit several times. The holiness of the church is unceasingly mani-fested through the fruits of the Holy Spirit in all the faithful. The Review for Relig4ous Holy Spirit also influences the practice of the evangelical coun-sels as a shining witness and model of holiness (§39). Under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, church authority has the duty of interpreting the evangelical counsels, regulating their practice, and establishing stable forms of living in accordance with them (§43). The council fathers affirm that the religious state, though not belonging to the hierarchical structure of the church, belongs inseparably to her life and holiness. It manifests the surpassing greatness of Christ the King and the boundless power of the Holy Spirit (§44) in .the church. Perfectae Caritatis (1965) Few direct references to the Holy Spirit appear in Perfectae caritatis.12 Through God's love which is poured into their hearts by the Holy Spirit, some Christians are impelled to practice the evangelical counsels in a true family gathered together in the Lord's name. Their "brotherly" unity shows that Christ has come and results in great apostolic effectiveness (§§ 1 and 15). The pro-cesses of appropriate renewal of religious life include (1) a return to the sources of Christian life and to the original inspiration of the founder and (2) adjustment of the community to the changed conditions of the times. These processes are to go forward under the influence of the Holy Spirit and with the guidance of the church (§2). Through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the church is enriched with a variety of communities having a diver-sity of apostolic works (§8). Postconciliar Documents Evangelica Testificatio (1971) In this apostolic exhortation "On the Renewal of Religious Life," written six years after the close of the council, Pope Paul VI emphasizes the work of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit gifts the church with martyrs and with various forms of religious life (§3). Pope Paul speaks of the "charisms of the founders" and the "charism of religious life," which are the fruit of the Holy Spirit always at work within the church (§11). The Spirit guides the church in its interpretation and regulation of the evangelical coun-sels (§7). The Spirit inspires communities of consecrated life not only in their origins but also in their renewal, which requires dis-cernment (§§6 and 51). By placing greater emphasis on the ¯ September-October 1996 Brickner ¯ The Holy Spirit in Church Documents charismatic nature of the consecrated life, church teaching becomes less iuridic and more pneumatic.13 Mutuae Relationes (1978) This document, based on a consultation of bishops and reli-gious in 1975, portrays vividly the pneumatic ecclesiological insights of Vatican Council II, continues to use the term "charism," and provides criteria for evaluating the authenticity of charisms. Profound reflections on the pneumatic origin and sacramental nature of the church permeate the first chapter. "The soul of the ecclesial body is the Holy Spirit" (§9). Ever since the day of Pentecost there has existed in the world a new people which draws its life from the Holy Spirit and is united in Christ so as to have access to the Father. ¯ . This unique nature of the church is due to the presence of the Holy Spirit himself. He is the life and strength of the people of God, the cohesive power in its communion, the energy for its mission, the source of its various gifts, the bond of its marvelous unity, the light and beauty in its creative power, the fire of its love . The life-giving pres-ence of the Holy Spirit creates an organic cohesion in Christ,. for the Spirit "makes [the church] one in its com-munion and ministry, provides it with various hierarchical and charismatic gifts, directing it through them, and adorns it with his fruits." (§§1 and 2) Both founders of consecrated life and bishops are "enriched with suitable charisms" such as the "special charism of organizing" pastoral ministries and of discerning local cultural values (§§6 and 9). Remaining faithful to the charism of their founders, reli-gious institutes should make use of the charism for inventiveness, for bold and ingenious new ecclesial experiments under the impulse of the Holy Spirit (§§14 and 19). Bishops have the respon-sibility of discerning whether a charism is authentic: it must (1) take its origin from the Spirit as something distinct though not separate from innate or acquired gifts, (2) show a desire to become like Christ in order to witness to some aspect.of his mystery, and (3) show a fruitful love for the church that avoids discord (§51). The document acknowledges tensions between the hierarchic structure and consecrated life, encouraging collaboration between bishops and religious for the good of the church. Religious Life and Human Promotion (1980) Because of its focus on human promotion as the mission of the Review for Religious church and therefore of religious as well, one would think that the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes would emphasize pneumatology. However, only a few references to the work of the Holy Spirit appear. Religious are encouraged to be enterprising in undertakings and initiatives in keeping with the charismatic and prophetic nature of their life (§2 7). Renewal in the consecrated life is important for the church and for ~he world because the works of religious, marked by a diversity of charisms, are one of the most important means by which the church carries out its evangelization (§5). The Holy Spirit constantly inspires new forms of consecrated life and animates existing communi-ties, which are called to remain faithful to the purposes for which they were founded (§§6 and 8). Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life (1981) This document results from a plenary meeting of the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes in 1980 and stresses the absolute primacy of life in the Holy Spirit (§17). Contemplation is an infused gift of the Holy Spirit by which the believer opens up to the revelation and communication of the liv-ing God. As the highest and fullest activity of the spirit, contem-plation is the real secret of renewal for religious life (§1). Action and contemplation must be fused. Only apostolic and charitable activity which is inspired and motivated by the Holy Spirit is of the very nature of refigious life (§4). The Sacred Congregation urges "renewed attention tolife in the Holy Spirit" through daily meditation on Sacred Scripture (§8), celebration of the Eucharist (§9) and the sacrament of reconciliation (§ 10), spiritual direction (§11), the praying of the Liturgy of the Hours (§12), the prac-tice of asceticism (§14), and devotion to the Virgin May (§13). Redemption# Donum (1983) The few pneumatological references in this apostolic exhor-tation of Pope John Paul (on religious consecration in the light of the mystery of redemption) parallel those of other documents on the consecrated life. Religious profession is described as a fuller expression of baptismal "consecration to God in Jesus Christ" in a covenant of spousal love (§§7 and 8). The Holy Spirit calls peo-ple to follow Christ and recalls to mind all that Christ has said. The entire economy of redemption is realized precisely through the mysterious action of the Holy Spirit, who is the author of all September-October 1996 Brickner ¯ The Holy Spirit in Church Documents holiness (§§6 and 9). The vow of celibacy is a charismatic choice which brings the eschatological kingdom of God close to the life of all people, while the vow of obedience engenders total avail-ability to the Holy.Spirit (§§11 and 13). The particular gift of the founder, from which the apostolate must come, endures as a charism for the whole community (§15). Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Life (1983) The document summarizes the church's traditional teachings and norms pertaining to the consecrated life. Its few references to the Holy Spirit offer no new insights. The church has approved and encourages renewal in its numerous religious families, whose distinctiveness derives from the founding charism (§§11, 41, and 42). The witness of religious can be a clear echo of the gospel "to the extent that it manifests publicly the transforming power of Christ in the church and the vitality of the institute's charism to the people of our time" (§§11 and 37). Hence, renewal must focus on fidelity to the founding gift.14 Fraternal Life in Community (1994) In this document the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL) lucidly and directly expresses the pneumatic character of the church and of the consecrated life. Like the mystery of the church itself, the consecrated life expresses the great Trinitarian com-munion in which the Father has willed that women and men have part in the Holy Spirit (§§2, 9, and 71). Religious community is an expression of ecclesial communion. "Before being a human construction, religious community is a gift of the Spirit. It is the love of God poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, from which religious community takes its origin and is formed as a true fam-ily gathered together in the Lord's name" (§8). The fruit of this communion is the gift of fraternal life. Religious community is not simply a collection of Christians seek-ing personal perfection. Rather, it is to be a living organism of intense fraternal communion animated by the foundational charism (§2). United in the Holy Spirit, religious are to become brothers and sisters in their daily experience of communion of life, prayer and apostolate (§§44, 10, 11). Communion originates precisely in sharing the Spirit's gifts. The more religious share ¯ the things that are central and vital, the more the fraternal bond Review for Religious grows in strength (§32). Thus, religious should live alone only in exceptional cases and should value diversity within the com-munity (§65). "Optional homogeneity, besides weakening apostolic mobility, weakens the Pneumatic strength of a community and robs the spiritual reality which rules the community of its power as witness" (§41). "Just as the Holy Spirit anointed the church in the upper room to send her out to evangelize the world, so every reli-gious community, as an authentic pneumatic community of the Risen One, is also, and according to its own nature, apostolic" (§58). Fraternal communities become missionaries of that love "taught and lived by Christ and communicated to us through his Spirit" (§56). This missionary activ-ity is lived out in a particular church to which the religious community brings the richness of its consecration, its fraternal life, and its charism (§60). Religious must seek a just balance between per-sonal charisms and the community's apostolate without the dis-integrating forms of individualism or the leveling aspects of communitarianism (§39). Fraternal communion is already an apos-tolate, and contributes directly to the work of evangelization (§54). "The effectiveness of religious life depends on the quality of the fraternal life in common," which serves as a sign and stim-ulus for all the baptized (§§54 and 2). Fraternal communion is already an apostolate, and contributes directly to the work of evangelization. Vita Consecrata (1996) While the conciliar documents laid the firm foundation for future developments in pneumatology in church documents on the consecrated life, this apostolic exhortation gives shape to its mag-nificent mansion. Dare it be said that in thid document pneuma-tology moves to the front and center?~s Pneumatology as depicted in the document manifests deeper ecclesiological understandings of the consecrated life in three areas: consecration, communion, and mission. After providing brief citations of pneumatology from the document for each of these areas, we reflect on the Holy Father's repeated emphasis on founding charisms. Considered a deepening of baptismal consecration, religious profession includes a special call and gift of the Holy Spirit to September-October 1996 Brickner * The Holy Spirit in Church Documents live the evangelical councils in religious community (§30). "Consecrated persons, who embrace the evangelical counsels, receive a new and special consecration which, without being sacra-mental, commits them to making their own--in chastity, poverty and obedience--the way of life practiced personally by Jesus and proposed by him to his disciples" (§31). The consecrated life is a way of showing forth the church's holiness, an especially rich man-ifestation of gospel values and a more complete expression of the church's purpose, which is the sanctification of humanity (§32). The consecrated life is also a sign of communion in the church. "The church is essentially a mystery of communion, 'a people made one with the unity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit'" (§41). "It is the Spirit himself who leads the soul to the experience of communion with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ, a communion which is the source of fraternal life" and of the inte-rior call to share everything in common (§42). "In community life, the power of the Holy Spirit at work in one individual passes at the same time to all" (§42). Filled with joy and the Holy Spirit, consecrated persons are to be true experts of communion and to practice the spirituality of communion (§~45 and 46). Communion leads to mission and becomes mission. "By their charisms, consecrated persons become signs of the Spirit point-ing to a new future enlightened by faith and by Christian hope. Eschatological expectation becomes mission, so that the kingdom may become ever more fully established here and now" (§27). "If the church is to reveal her true face to today's world, she urgently needs such fraternal communities, which by their very existence contribute to the new evangelization inasmuch as they disclose in a concrete way the fruitfulness of the 'new commandment'" (§45). Through a special gift of the Holy Spirit, some persons in the consecrated life have carried out a genuinely prophetic min-istry, speaking the name of God to all, even to the pastors of the church (§84). Pope John Paul emphasizes pneumatology also through his focus on the charismatic aspect of the consecrated life. "The Spirit, who at different times has inspired numerous forms of consecrated life, does not cease to assist the church, whether by fostering in already existing institutes a commitment to renewed faithfulness to the founding charism or by giving new charisms to men and women of our own day so that they can start institu-tions responding to the challeng&s of our times" (§62). Review for Religqous Appropriate renewal of the consecrated life includes a return to the sources (as noted in Perfectae caritatis), one of which is fidelity to the founding charism. The founding charism orients consecrated persons to a special relationship with the Trinity (§36). The church assists in discernment regarding the founding charisms, which contribute to building up charity in the particu-lar churches and in the universal church (§§62 and 48). Contemporary Pneumatology's Significance for the Consecrated Life Church documents on the consecrated life are generally rich in pneumatological references, as we have seen. This shift from the juridic to the pneumatic enriches and expands the ecclesio-logical understanding of the consecrated life in the areas of con-secration, communion, and mission. What implications does this finding have for the continuous renewal of the consecrated life? At least two suggestions come to mind: (1) coming to know and love the Holy Spirit, who is the source of unity with God and with others, and (2) both individually and communally respond-ing with greater alacrity to the Spirit's impulses. A common human experience is the longing for communion, for unity which respects a plurality of differences, for love freely given. Within the Holy Trinity there exists this mutuality of rela-tionships in a community of equals. Through the Holy Spirit, God's love is poured into our hearts (Rm 5:5). It is the Spirit who teaches those in the consecrated life how to relate, to respect the diversity of God's gifts, to love. The Holy Spirit must no longer be "shadowy," "vague," "half-known," or "forgotten" by the peo-ple of God, including those in the consecrated life.16 Without a deeper knowledge and appreciation of the Holy Spirit, conse-crated women and men will be unable to understand their charisms and respond to the Spirit who renews and revitalizes the consecrated life. Virtually every one of the documents on the consecrated life urges communities to have strong initial and continuing forma-tion programs, especially in theology. Intellectual development, however, though necessary, is not sufficient. Consecrated persons must also become more responsive to the impulses of the Holy Spirit. Their life is a "kind of shock therapy instituted by the Holy Spirit for the church as a whole.''17 They are called to be the Septent her- October 1996 Brickner ¯ The Holy Spirit in Church Documents presence of God's Spirit in the world: prophets, who speak and boldly exemplify the possibility of real communion; truth tellers, who proclaim what is liberating in feminism; empty vessels that willingly receive the richness of diversity through inculturation; and builders of the reign of God through ecumenical activity.18 The Holy Spirit will not allow the church to domesticate its insti-tutes of consecrated life. Salt must retain its savor! Leaven must retain its power! Renewal, not only of consecrated life but also of the church, depends upon it. Notes ' See Perfectae caritatis §1 and Vim consecrata §§13 and 35. On the relationship between renewal in religious congregations and renewal in the church, see Gerald A. Arbuclde, Refounding the Church (New York: Orbis Books, 1993). 2 HarperCollins Encyclopedia of Catholicism, 1995, s.v. "Pneumatology." These brief remarks about pneumatology can only skim the surface of what many authors have eloquently written about the Holy Spirit. See, for example, Yves Congar's three-volume work I Believe in the Holy Spirit. 3 See Elizabeth A. Johnson, She Who Is (New York: Crossroad, 1994), pp. 128-131 and 133-145. In her study of the Holy Trinity, Johnson begins with Spirit-Sophia, to whom feminine characteristics are often attributed. 4 Yves Congar, I Believe in the Holy Spirit (New York: Seabury Press, 1983), vol. 1, pp. 37 and 31-32. s John Zizioulas, "The Church as Communion," St. Vladimir's Theological Quarterly 38, no. 1 (1994): 6. 6 Yves Congar, The I, Vord and the Spirit (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1986), pp. 61-62. St. Bonaventure speaks of Christ as the head of the church, and St. Thomas Aquinas speaks of the Holy Spirit as the heart of the church. The Spirit is the Spirit of the Word; the Word is also of the Spirit. St. Thomas's Christology is pneumatological, accord-ing to Congar. 7 Avery Dulles, A Church to Believe In (New York: Crossroad, 1982), p. 20; Congar, 1 Believe in the Holy Spirit, vol. 2, pp. 161-162. 8 Ren~ Laurentin, "Charisms: Terminological Precision," in Cbarisms in the Church, ed. Christian Duquoc and Casiano Floristan (New York: Seabury Press, 1978), p. 10. Thomas O'Meara writes that charism and institution must not be set in false opposition; he speaks--in his Theology of Ministry (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), p. 68--of the relationship between charism and ministry: "Far from charism being opposed to min-istry, ministry is mediated from the Spirit to personality by charism: dia-conal charisms." When Paul VI refers to religious life as a charism, he uses charism as "a particular state of life." Review for Religious 9 Herbert Vorgrimler, ed., Commentary on the Documents of Vatican H (New York: Herder and Herder, 1967), vol. 1, p. 142. Some critics per-ceive pneumatology to be underdeveloped in conciliar texts. See, for example, Jean-Marie Tillard, "A Point of Departure," Review for Religious 26, no. 3 (March-April 1967): 435-437. Catherine Lacugna, speaking at the University of Notre Dame during the recent conference on the "Reception of Vatican II," suggested that pneumatology was lim-ited if not lackingin conciliar texts. In private conversation she com-mented that the Holy Spirit is too often subordinated to the other Persons of the Trinity. ,0 Congar, IBelieve in the Holy Spirit, vol. 1, pp. 167-172. I I Jean-Marie Tillard, Church of Churches: The Ecclesiology of Communion (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1992). 12 See Vorgrimler, pp. 301-332. The "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life" went through five redactions and required much compromise among the council fathers. It is short (25 articles) and focuses mainly on principles of appropriate renewal. Its brevity neces-sarily restricted the breadth of theological foundations it could provide regarding the consecrated life. 13 Patricia Walter, "Religious Life in Church Documents," Review for Religious 51, no. 4 0uly-August 1992): 555. 14 This document approaches religious life in a juridical manner and had a mixed reception among religious congregations. is In Vita consecrata sixteen of the 112 articles refer to the Trinity in various ways: as source, as model, in prayer. Half of the articles include a reference to the Holy Spirit, often without subordinating the Spirit's action to that of the Creator and the Redeemer. In addition, the charis-matic element of the consecrated life, attributed to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, appears in 44 percent of the articles. Indeed, recalling Congar's reflections about the pneumatology of Vatican II, one might consider the document notably pneumatocentric compared with concil-iar texts. ,6 See Elizabeth Johnson, She Who Is, p. 130. ,7 Johannes B. Metz, Followers of Christ (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 12. 18 Authors who exemplify these perspectives include Joan Chittister, The Fire in These Ashes (Kansas City: Sheed and Ward, 1995); Diarmuid O'Murchu, Religious Life: A Prophetic Vision (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1991); Paul J. Philibert, ed., Living in the Meantime (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1994); Gerald A. Arbuckle, Out of Chaos: Refounding Religious Congregations (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1988). September-October 1996 seeking God TERRANCE WAYNE KLEIN Vocations and the Crisis of Communal Life In his postsynodal apostolic exhortation Pastores Dabo Vobis: On the Formation of Priests in the Circumstances of the Present Day, Pope John Paul raises an issue I consider essential to vocational recruitment, namely, the formation of can-didates ready to be recruited. Making reference to Andrew bringing his brother Peter to Christ, the Holy Father writes: "He brought him to Jesus." In a way, this is the heart of all the church's pastoral work on behalf of vocations, in which she cares for the birth and growth of vocations, making use of the gifts and responsibilities, of the charisms and ministry she has received from Christ and his Spirit. The church, as a priestly, prophetic, and kingly people, is committed to foster and to serve the birth and maturing of priestly vocations through her prayer and sacramental life, by her proclamation of the word and by education in th~ faith, by her example and witness of ~harity. (PDV§38) I think a significant insight of this text is that finding men and women ready and willing to respond to calls to special ministry in the church should not be left to mer-curial chance: "The church., is committed to foster and serve the birth and maturing of priestly vocations." I also think the text.dispels the theological assertion that this is Terrance Wayne Klein is a former director of vocations and was director of spiritual formation in two seminaries. He is now an associate pastor at St. Brigid of Kildare Church; P.O. Box 1131; Dublin, Ohio 43017. Review for Religious a work of the Holy Spirit alone, and not of human effort. To sup-pose that the Holy Spirit creates the candidates and all the church need do is find them would be to slight the role of human coop-eration in the divine plan of salvation. The church has always realized that religious and priestly vocations are not simply from out of the blue. They arise out of her stock of maturing, committed Christians who, when presented with an actual invitation to a ministry in the church, find them-selves able and willing to respond freely and generously. The cul-tivation of that stock has always been the task of every catechetical and Christian-formation movement in the church's history. Catholic schools, CCD programs, retreat experiences, and youth movements exist to form what can only be called, most basically, disciples of Christ. The cultivation of such a stock has previously not been the task of those charged with vocational recruitment. Yet the flour-ishing of vocations may very well depend upon vocation direc-tors taking up the work of actually forming communities of discipleship. In this article I present three matters that I think need attention if vocational recruitment is to flourish. They are the necessity of bringing youth into contact with ministerial fig-ures; the need of progressive liberation, greater spiritual free-dom, in the lives of those seeking ministry in the church; and a fundamental characteristic desirable in all who work to promote vocations. Letting Sparks Fly According to data presented in the United States Catholic Conference study Research on Men's Vocations to the Priesthood and the Religious Life, most young people decide the basic direction of their lives between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. They do not necessarily choose a career path at this time; given the pro-traction of American adolescence, this would be unlikely. During these years, however, young people choose the values that chart the course their life will take. During these years they decide how important to them are values such as altruism, service, intimacy, material goods, public esteem, and education. That developmental fact belongs with other data presented in the same source (and subsequently confirmed in other stud-ies) and showing that most vocations to special consecration come September-Oaober 1996 Most vocations to special consecration come from direct contact with an inspiring person actually doing ministerial work in the church. from direct contact with an inspiring person actually doing min-isterial work in the church. This statistical evidence is borne out by my own experien, ce in working as a spiritual director to sem-inarians. They all have a story to tell, and it usually involves some ministerial figure who inspired them. Vocations are not cajoled; they are caught by contact. They do not come from media resources; they come out of personal interaction. When I put these two sets of data .together and consider that young people today are no less generous and no less motivated than previous generations, I come to the conclusion that, in the Catholic Church and among Christians in general, there is a sociological gap between youth and the institutional church's ministerial structures. Many young people growing up today have never personally encountered vibrant Christian ministry. Put simply, they do not view the ministry, in any of its forms, as having significance for the world in which they live. It has nei-ther formed nor informed their lives. The Holy Spirit is going to continue to create and nourish souls that are generous, but the church must present its ministe-rial life as an opportunity for that generosity to be expressed. This implies living contact between youth and committed minis-ters of the gospel. To the extent that religious communities and diocesan personnel move away from youth, they move away from the future and sever the lines of support that the institutions are there to provide. It is not enough for a vocation director to enter a high school or a college for the purpose of giving yet another career-day presentation. One must enter a college or high school to stay and to witness. As St. Francis of Assisi once told his fol-lowers, "Preach the gospel. Use words if necessary." I served the Dodge City diocese for two years as director of vocations, a short tenure that corresponds to the national average. There are no Catholic high schools in this very rural diocese. Many young people growing up there have never met a religious sister. Parish communities tend to be solid and wholesome, but pastoring tends to be short in tenure. As in many places in the Review for Religious country, beleaguered pastors are only too happy to turn over youth work to lay volunteers. Is it any surprise that young people choose to remain among the laity when they have been led and inspired by lay leaders? I am in no way indicting the collaboration of the laity in this and other ministerial venues. The question is one of collaboration and presence. Ordained priests and deacons and religious women and men bring with them a symbol-laden presence of Christ. When they disappear from the scene, much more is lost than another set of hands. After almost a year of consultation with the religious con-gregations of women at work in the diocese, we began a project that was seen as preliminary discipleship formation. We brought young men and women together to live for a weekend with priests -and religious. The students prayed with them and received from them basic instruction in prayer techniques and discernment. The key, as we saw it, was simply that they encountered priests and religious. We tried to create opportunities for sparks to fly. I am currently involved in a similar project with the diocese of Columbus. Essential to the success of such a program, however, is the ability to identify those who are already leaders and who dis-play the requisite vocational qualities as well. (I have written about this in "Discerning Vocations," in the 1 May 1993 issue of America.) Liberating Youth There is yet another theol.ogical supposition behind the methodology of these weekend experiences. For anyone to respond to the call of God in vocation, freedom is required. Sin, in all its varieties and ramifications, keeps us from being free and thus impedes our response to God's initiative. The Holy Father again offers a worthy perspective: Freedom. is essential to vocation, a freedom which when it gives a positive response appears as a deep personal adher-ence, as a loving gift or rather as a gift given back to the giver who is God who calls, an oblation: "The call," Paul VI once said, "is as extensive as the response. There cannot be vocations unless they be free, that is, unless they be spon-taneous offerings of oneself, Conscious, generous, total . Oblations, we call them: here lies in practice the heart of the matter . It is the humble and penetrating voice of Christ, who says, today, as yesterday, and even more than Septentber-October 1996 Klein ¯ Vocations and the Crisis of Communal Life yesterday: Come. Freedom reaches its supreme foundation: precisely that of oblation, of generosity, of sacrifice." (PDV §36) The methodological presupposition of those working with potential candidates for vocations of special consecration should be that they are not yet free. They are restrained by forces per-sonal, spiritual, sociological, cultural, and even biological. All of these taken together are what St. Paul refers to as the flesh which is at war with the spirit. The categories are worth some explana-. tion, even though space admits of only a few examples. On the level of the personal, candidates may present them-selves for ministry because their poor self-image demands a role in life which creates a seemingly instant image of respect. Or, conversely, potential candidates may be unable even to consider a ministerial vocation because their self-image is entirely too neg-ative. They may want to consider priesthood or religious life, but only after they have put themselves together spiritually. Their idea would be, "When I have overcome sin, I will consider such a life." What is lacking here is the comprehension that a life of apostolic charity may be the very instrument that the Holy Spirit desires to use for the person's redemption. All programs of formation have as their agenda the progres-sive liberation of candidates from all of the forces that would keep their choice for or against vocation from being truly free. I now work part-time in a college seminary, and I would say that our raison d'etre is exactly this, to free young men and make them ready to respond. Hence, the necessity for directors of vocations to create or support structures that teach young people the fun-damentals of Christian life and at least a basic knowledge of how to discern the work of the Holy Spirit in their life. Of course, any adequate Christian anthropology would insist that, ultimately, humanity is freed, or healed, only by the inter-venient action of God. Wholeness was an attribute of God long before it became a goal of the recovery movement. That being true, only prayer, which represents an actual encounter with God, can effect freedom, or healing, or wholeness. Only the intimacy bf prayer creates disciples, and only disciples, even if they be merely nascent ones, can respond to God's call to a lifetime of. consecrated service. So the discipleship programs sponsored by recruiters must have three elements: direct personal contact with hero-mentors, pedagogical formation in the fundamentals of Review for Religious Christian belief and practice, and an opportunity for growth in prayer. My past experience as the director of spiritual formation in a college seminary program reinforces this triad. I am personally convinced that many people move towards and away from voca-tions to the priesthood and religious life without developing even a modicum of spiritual intimacy. I doubt that this phe-nomenon is new. I suspect it has been a continual struggle and task in every house where formation occurs. I am certainly not presenting my own limited experience as the answer to the vocation crisis. What I am arguing is that success in the future willprobably demand that vocation personnel actually do some of the work of initial formation in disci-pleship. I think it would be fair to say that what I am really suggesting is that those charged with the recruitment and guid-ance of ministerial vocations see them-selves as being, after the family, among the first of young people's mentors of forma-tion. A certain amount of formation, or growth in Christian discipleship, is needed before potential candidates are ready for entry into formalized preparatory pro- What I am really suggesting is that those charged with the recruitment and guidance of ministerial vocations see themselves as being, after the family, among the first of young people's mentors of formation. grams. Previously this formation was the work of other Catholic institutions, but the presumption that others have already pre-pared such candidates is no longer tenable, and ignoring the shift that has occurred will leave recruiters wondering what happened to all the vocations. The Formation of the Formers In January 1994 the Roman Congregation for Catholic Education (of Seminaries and Institutes of Study), under the lead-ership of Cardinal Pio Laghi, released Directives Concerning the Preparation of Seminary Educators. The work considers the for-mation of those charged with formation. It notes that a unique combination of talent, charism, experience, and education must Septentber-October 1996 Klein ¯ Vocations and the Crisis of Communal Life exist if a person doing formation work is to find the experience productive and personally rewarding: The vocation of the educator.implies, on the one hand, a certain "charism," which is expressed in gifts of nature and of grace, and, on the other, certain capacities and attitudes that must be acquired. In every consideration regarding the personality of the educator, this double aspect must be kept in mind; each of the characteristics desirable in a seminary educator presents elements which are, in a manner of speak-ing, innate, and others which must be progressively devel-oped by means of study and experience. (Directives §25) The formati'on of vocation directors can be considered along these same lines of thought. To begin with, though, readers may be wondering whether any such formation actually exists. It does. To their credit, national organizations have done much to provide neophytes in the field with at least that quintessential American pedagogical experience called the workshop conference. Actually a great deal of formal information is imparted at such gatherings, and the opportunity for informal guidance by those more expe-rienced in the work is incalculable. Also, it seems safe to assume that the formation which voca-tion directors receive for their own religious life or priesthood is itself a real and efficacious, albeit remote, preparation for the specific ministries of vocational recruitment, discernment, and guidance. By means of a broad education, formation programs are supposed to equip their students to enter diverse ministries without particular, prolonged preparation. The liberal arts should prepare us for a future that will always be ambiguous. The Directives do the church a real service in publicly dis-cussing the'criteria for evaluating persons being considered for seminary formation work. Rectors and bishops have, of course, always used some sort of criteria, but the document makes it pos-sible for those unnamed and perhaps unexamined criteria to be discussed and evaluated in an open forum. This is good: open collaboration tends to expose the weaknesses any individual's approach may have. It also reinforces and propagates strengths. I would like to conclude my observations by offering a crite-rion for identifying which candidates, among the many doing ministry in the church, are likely to do best at the ministry of vocational recruitment. The evaluative question I would pose is this: Are they community builders? Review for Relig%us Ecclesia: Community of the Summoned Consider what vocations to the priesthood or religious life really are. They are calls from God the Father to serve Christ by serving the community which is the church. Vocations have their ¯genesis and scope in community life. They are instruments of God in bringing together the "community of the summoned": the ecclesia (in New Testament Greek), the "church." They exist to Order to nourish, to enliven, and to augment the church. "In the church's very name, ecclesia, we find its deep vocational aspect, for the church is a 'convocation,' an assembly of those who have been called" (PDV §34). Referring to priestly vocations, the Holy.Father has noted, "In this context the ecclesi-ology of communion becomes decisive for understanding the identity of the priest, his essential dignity and his voca-tion and mission among the people of. God and in the world" (PDV§12). Certainly the many theological, pas-toral, and liturgical changes that occurred with the Second Vatican Council have had, among their effects, a disturbing of the relative tranquillity that should normally characterize a healthy institution. Most Catholics are willing to admit, however, that the disturbance has been outweighed by the renewal of evan-gelical life that the council has inaugurated in the church. I do not think vocations dropped because of the conciliar reforms (although their implementation may have occasioned a number of new problems). Rather, I believe that communal val-ues and communities themselves are being undermined by con-temporary life. The disintegration of vibrant communities into increasingly isolated individuals and solipsistic agendas is a prob-lem not only for the church, but also for modern technological society as a whole. Consider the changes that have occurred in the latter half of this century. The superhighways that now connect huge metropolises across vast stretches of land have rendered superfluous many small communities that once prospered between those cities. They have The disintegration of vibrant communities into increasingly isolated individuals and solipsistic agendas is a problem not only for the church, but also for modern technological society as a whole. Septe~nber-October 1996 Klein * Vocations and the Crisis of Communal Life. also restructured urban life itself. Distinct intra-urban neighbor-hoods once flourished because it took time to move from one side of the city to another. Today mass merchandising has sup-pressed small, community-enhancing workshops and businesses. With the disappearance of the family farm went the collapse Of the small town and the small rural parish. The knowledge explosion made possible by the computer age has created a world of spe-cialization that renders small hospitals, small colleges, and other small institutions seemingly superfluous. Endangered by the collapse of these communities are the communal values upon which cultural life depends. Increasingly undifferentiated national media now serve a country such as the United States, but, instead of promoting communal values, they seem only to be forums where increasingly strident and diverse views make themselves heard. One can now ask at the end of the 20th century: Who are we? Is there any we left among us? The collapse of a communal identity is certainly a formative influence on those presenting themselves as candidates for min-istry. Many of the candidates with whom I have worked came to the seminary out of a faith experience which is highly individu-alistic, often with little or no contact with the institutional church. This can be viewed as a sign of the Holy Spirit raising up leaders even beyond the reaches of contemporary church ministry--it is, after all, how the church received the gift of St. Paul's vocation. But it also raises the challenge of how to link the individual's own experience with that of the larger Christian community. Remember that Paul spent three years undergoing a process of communal immersion before beginning his ministerial life (see Ga 1:18). If the basic presuppositions of New Age spirituality were to be catalogued, certainly a useful project given their pervasive influ-ence, a foundational tenet would undoubtedly be the absolute, almost solipsistic, supremacy of the individual. Spirituality itself is seen not as a relational mystery which envelopes and possesses the human person, but as yet another object to be acquired by an individual whose weltanschauung is essentially that of the con-sumer. Pastores dabo vobis is trenchant in this regard: In the present context there is also a certain tendency to view the bond between human beings and God in an indi-vidualistic and self-centered way, as if God's call reached the individual by a direct route without in any way passing Review for Religious through the community. Its purpose is held to be the ben-efit, or the very salvation, of the individual called and not a total dedication to God in the service of the community. We thus find another very deep and at the same time sub-de threat which makes it impossible to recognize and accept joyfully the ecclesial dimension which naturally marks every Christian vocation, and the priestly vocation in particular: as the council reminds us, priestly ministry acquires its gen-uine meaning and attains to its fullest truth in serving and in fostering the growth of the Christian community and the common priesthood of the faithful. (PDV§37) Community Belonging Vocations are needed for communities, and they come out of communities. Their entire genesis and purpose are involved in communal life. Vocations are on the decline in the church today because communal life is waning. One simply does not offer one-self for ministry to a community if one has never felt oneself to be a part of a community. I suspect that, if Catholicism persists in declining as a communal way of life, vocations will continue to evaporate. Lives are to be offered to other people and to the God whom we encounter in others. If postghetto Catholicism is not a place of meaningful and life-giving encounter with others, if it becomes iust another competing intellectual system or a political agenda, then it will cease being a living organism that inspires men and women to sacrifice their futures for its continuance. One does not bring oneself to Pope Paul VI's notion of personal obla-tion without being able to envision the faces of real men and women for whom. the offering is made. How can anyone expect vocations to be fostered unless it be through community building and sustenance? Other sociological structures once existed to create the communities upon which vocational recruiters could depend. Those structures have either disappeared or found themselves transformed into priestless and sisterless entities. I suspect, however, that community building still will show itself to be the single most important quality that postghetto Catholic education offers the American church. How poignant, then, is this quality of community building which the Directives insist should characterize formational ministry: It can be said that the educator is authentic in his service and responds to the demands of his priestly ideal only in the measure to which he knows how to commit himself and Septe~nber-October 1996 Klein * Vocations and the Crisis of Communal Life sacrifice himself for the unity of the community and when in his thoughts, in his attitudes, and in his prayer he reflects concern for the union and the cohesion of the community entrusted to him. (Directives §29) Who needs to be in vocation work today? Who has the apti-tude? Those who can build communities. People who have shown an ability to unite other people around them. Those who can effectively enunciate the common values and longings of a human-ity destined for Trinitarian communion. If recruiting were the only task facing vocation personnel today, a good-looking face, a fast car, and call-forwarding would suffice. Recruiters today need to examine their venues and identify vibrant Christian communities. This is where they need to be. Sadly enough, in many situations they will need to help create such communities from scratch. I do not think that I am offering merely another theological or pastoral perspective. On the con-trary, I am begging recognition of a sociological certainty that creates both a pastoral imperative and an ecclesial opportunity. JUST PUBLISHED-- The Best of the Review - 5 The Church and Consecrated Life (see insert at back of book for ordering) "At a time when hope for religious life and its future is once again on the rise, the articles in this book offer an exceptional and much needed panorama of the critical issues of renewal faced by contemporary men and women religious. Elizabeth McDonough and David Fleming have done us an enormous favor in bringing together the Best of the Review in this area. I recommend this book enthusiastically; its authors take us another step along the journey to that future for religious life for which we all long." --Se~nSammon FMS Vicar General Marist Brothers, Rome ¯ Review for Religious MICHAEL TIDD Reflections of a Fin de Si cle Novice During their novitiate experiences, all religious, in one way or another, examine the identity and purpose of their respective congregations. In this era of religious life--in the wake of Vatican Council II and at the end of the 20th century--this essay is a personal reflection on the mysterious and profound experience of the novitiate of the Brothers of the Christian Schools in the United States today. Two questions frame this reflection: How am I being formed? and what am I being formed for? I hope that my responses bring a helpful perspective to pres-ent- day views of American religious life. Five years of community experience have vividly demonstrated that words like formation and novitiate carry many meanings. Often brothers' memories of formation are bittersweet. For readers of this article, the words probably conjure up all sorts of images. Most of these readers are likely to be religious whose formation occurred before or during Vatican Council II. For me Vatican II is as immediate as Trent and even Nicea, for I was not born until 1970. I am wholly a product of the post-Nicene, post-Tridentine, post-Vatican church. My formation is radically different from that of my brothers of the pre-Vatican era, both in theory and external practice. My novitiate time comes after five years of experience in community and the apostolate. Thus, it is less an initiation than a time for analysis and integration of my experiences as a Christian Brother. Michael Tidd FSC lives at Christian Brothers' Novitiate; Roosevelt Hall; One Tallcot Lane; Skaneateles, New York 13152. September-October 1996 Tidd * Reflections of a Fin de Si~cle Novice This integration occurs in the context of prayer and study: of the gospel, the church, the charism of our founder (John Baptist de La Salle), our Rule, our vows, our efforts at renewal since Vatican II, and issues of personal development and self-awareness. Compared with the intense schedule of yore, ours is decep-tively simple. Large blocks of time are discretionary. The indi-vidual is responsible for developing his life of prayer and study without the framework of an all-embracing fixed schedule of reli-gious exercises and study times. Our schedule for common prayer (morning and evening prayer, daily Mass both at home and in the local parish) is scant compared with the novitiate timetable of our former Rule.l Indeed, the Rule itself, revised after thirty years of experi-mentation beginning in 1956, is no longer oriented toward ful-fillment of obligations. It is couched largely in inspirational language, more exhortative than legal. Evaluation of the novice's suitability for the brother's vocation is based less on observance of the Rule's prescriptions than on his total aptitude (spiritual, intel-lectual, emotional, psychosexual) for our way of life. The devel-opment of the individual as a human being is weighed equally with his spiritual and intellectual progress. The crux of the difference between the modern novitiate and the earlier one lies in the time to oneself in the novitiate. This involves both theoretical and practical discontinuities. Formerly, the theoretical aim was to be "formed," shaped according to an abstract model of the ideal Christian Brother. The dual instru-ments of the Rule and the director of novices molded the novice into a brother. The novice was exhorted, and ideally strove, to let himself be recast in this form, leaving his past (and self) behind. The practical discontinuities were many. Life was lived by the schedule, with few if any choices about how time was spent. Influences on one's development were carefully regulated by Rule and director. Exact observance of the Rule was the primary virtue: inasmuch as one did so, one incarnated the community's charism and was making progress in this way of life. In the present novitiate, formation might not be the appro-priate term anymore. Present-day novices "form themselves" rather than "are formed by external agents." They do this by eval-uating prior and present choices in the light of the gospel and of the community's charism and life. Daily I confront issues such as personal prayer, interpersonal relationships, study, participation in Review for Religious the-lectures and conferences, the common labor needed to main-tain the house. I learn about religious life, the community's charism, and human development from religious, secular, lay, and clerical sources. The director of novices still plays a crucial role: he is the agent of accountability, calling me to reconcile my lived choices with the norms of our life. He is the one who helps the novice avoid the trap of self-delusion and evaluates the quality of one's self-formation. The modern novice, then, is like a sculptor who, in his choices of daily living, chips away at his raw material to shape something new: himself. The novice sculpts in the light of guidance from the Holy Spirit, the gospel, the charism and life of De La Salle, and the insti-tute's tradition being lived by his brothers and himself. Without a normal job and in relative separation from one's familiars, one lacks all the usual props. Daily I encounter three basic realities: God, my brothers, and myself. All of this can be harrowing, as questions of identity and ontology emerge. Two options appear: growth, however painful, or escape and denial. Even here it is possible to fill the. day with trivialities, ducking the hard questions. I could "make the novitiate" without any real change, but that would be a colossal waste of time. Ultimately, the choice is in my hands. There will be nothing to hide behind down the line if real conversion does not happen here, a conversion for which I must take responsibili.ty before God. The vows are less the end of the novitiate, then, than a beginning. They are the public beginning of a life already being defined by the consequences of my present choices, choices made in response to the call of God as perceived in the daily events of existence: "For this command which I enjoin on you today is not too mysterious and remote for you . No, it is something very near to you, already in your mouths, and in your hearts; you have only to carry it out" (Deuteronomy 30:11 and 14, NAB). In her book The Fire in These Ashes: A Spirituality of Contemporary Religious Life, Joan Chittister OSB aptly describes the dilemma of modern religious: "They want to know if there is anything going on now [emphasis mine] to prove that religious life remains worth the sacrifice of their own lives. Is there anything The crux of the difference between the modern novitiate and the earlier one lies in the time to oneself in the novitiate. Septonber-October 1996 Tidd¯ Reflections of a Fin de Si~cle Novice still life-giving here? Is there anything yet valuable enough to go on doing here? New members want to know if there is anything here that merits their coming to do, their coming to be.''2 In the novitiate I have understood her questions thus: For what am I being formed? In 1996 in the United States~ what is the life of the Brother of the Christian Schools for which I am preparing? The question is very specific because I am convinced that this process is not designed to create an abstract "religious," but a member of a specific community guided by a unique charism. Much contemporary literature on religious life leaves me vaguely disappointed. I do not see much written by those who will be around when the future of religious life will have become the present. More fundamentally, the discussion is so future oriented and spec-ulative that it leaves me wondering what we are to do here and now. I am not left rudderless, fortunately. God's command is not far away; it is close at hand. Since I see the novitiate's meaning as preparation for living as a Brother of the Christian Schools in 1996 and in 2006 and 2016 as well, I look to the community's intellectual and spiritual patrimony for a definition of that broth-erhood right now. The inspired work of many brothers has pro-duced two texts that address the threefold challenge of Perfectae caritatis: recommitment to the gospel, recovery of the founder's charism, and adapted renewal in the light of the signs of the times (see §2). These documents are The Brother of the Christian Schools in the World Today: A Declaration and our Rule of 1986. In thefin de si~cle, these texts provide clear, powerful, and dynamic state-ments of our identity and purpose. They are lights amidst the darkness of the waning millennium. The Declaration is a charismatic statement issued by our 39th General Chapter in 1967. It was prompted in part by its response to the question of introducing the priesthood into the community. The chapter rejected that innovation, saying what we are not and then issuing a positive proclamation of what we are. The modern Brother of the Christian Schools is a layman who, in response to a call from God, totally consecrates himself to the glory of the Trinity by public profession of vows. His total consecration of himself has its roots in his baptismal consecration.3 In an entirely lay institute, the brother places himself at the service of others in the context of a community "totally dedicated to the kingdom of God." Consecrated in community, he specifies his life of ser- Review for Religious vice to others in an educational mission "with special preference for the poor." Regardless of the social class of those he immedi-ately deals with, the brother totally orients his work towards the promotion of justice and those "whose poverty hinders their devel-opment as persons or their aptitude to receive the message of sal-vation revealed in Jesus Christ." The brother integrates his proclamation of the gospel with the total human development of his students and sees the school as "the pre-ferred but not the only means" of achieving the institute's mission.4 The Declaration stresses the fundamental aspects of our vocation as Brothers of the Christian Schools (neatly summarized twenty years later in the Rule): "consecration to God as a lay religious, apostolic ministry of edu-cation, especially of the poor, and community life.''5 The Declaration was for us the great clarion call to conversion in the wake of Vatican II. Indeed, in 1967 Brother Charles Henry Buttimer, then superior general, wrote: "It is. in light of the Declaration that we must read and under-stand the other texts of our General Chapter, including the [pro-visional] Rule and Constitutions. It is the basis of the doctrine you will find in each of them.''6 Making the bold ideals of the Declaration reality was the task of the institute in the years fol-lowing 1967, as the great revision of the Rule began. The Declaration's synthetic idea of our vocation is rooted deeply in the charism of John Baptist de La Salle. In response to a double contemplation of the needs of the poor and God's plan of salvation for all, he founded a community of brothers on the following basis. "The spirit of this Institute is a spirit of faith, which should induce those .who compose it not to look upon any-thing but with the eyes of faith, not to ~1o anything but in view of God, and to attribute all to God, [with the result that there is] an ardent zeal for the instruction of children [and] to procure the salvation of the children confided to their care." Internalizing this spirit is "of the utmost importance . The novices [should] apply themselves to acquire it; and those that are already members [should] make it their first care to preserve and increase it in themselves . "Those who failed to do so were to be considered "dead members.''7 These texts of the recent and distant past speak Much contemporary literature on religious life leaves me vaguely disappointed. Septentber-October 1996 Tidd ¯ Reflections o[a Fin de Si~cle Novice to the present as much as to the times which occasioned them. They address the essence of questions of identity and sustaining vision, questions which seem to bedevil many religious commu-nities today. The Rule coexists with the Declaration as a statement of iden-tity and purpose inasmuch as it is the fruit of over thirty years of experimentation and of applying the visionary statements of the Declaration. In addition (moreso than the Declaration) it bene-fits from the recovery of the real person of De La Salle through modern critical scholarship, a man long obscured by a profile more hagiographical than historical. The Rule, then, makes the call of the council real: it renews and adapts our understanding of our vocation as Brothers of the Christian Schools by pointing out a dynamic relationship between the challenges of modernity and our founding charism. As in the first 'rules of the community, pro-duced by De La Salle in collaboration with the brothers them-selves, the Rule is the work of the entire congregation, through successive general chapters and consultation with thousands of brothers around the world. It is a coherent and convincing description of this way of life and its raison d'etre. Both documents elaborate a fundamental principle: The brother's vocation is an all-encompassing way of life in unhesi-tatin~ response to the call of God in the depths of the brother's heart. Seeing in the life of the brother far more than the aposto-late or the vows alone is the key to the coherence and intelligibility of our identity, today and in the future. For several decades the brothers' mission of education has been shared with other religious, priests, and lay people. This reality. has been examined and embraced bysuccessive general chapters as a manifestation of the Holy Spirit in its life today. We have much to share with those who seek to define their profession as an apos-tolic mission in the spirit and tradition of John Baptist de La Salle. Such sharing and dialogue is ongoing all over the world.8 This recognition, however, forces the brothers to refine their identity even more sharply. The common apostolate alone simply will no longer suffice as an answer to the question of identity, given the signs of the times. Our identity as Brothers of the Christian Schools must transcend mission and reach to the very depths of our being. The chapter of 1966-67 articulated an initial, charismatic vision of the Brother of the Christian Schools today, and the Rule Review for Religious of 1986 specifies and refines that identity even further, in the light of ongoing renewal and lived experience since 1967. What makes us brothers is not solely our work, but the living integra-tion of the constitutive elements: consecration, community, mis-sion. Each must be related in dynamic harmony to the others. No single element should obscure the others. The importance of consecration as witness, lived in commu-nity and expressed by public vows, is evidenced by the Rule's claim that it is our "first apostolate." This mode of living indicates the transcendent action of God in our world, and points towards the covenant between God and human beings. The common life is essential to our identity for two reasons. First, the brothers need the mutuality and sharing of community life for their spiritual and human develop-ment. Second, our brotherhood in com-munity and our "selfless presence among those [the brothers] serve" is to "witness to the possibility of creating true broth-erhood among nations.''9 Our mission of teaching is rooted in our very foundation as a community. De La Salle brought his first schoolmasters into community and gave them a profound spirituality--the Christian teacher as an ambassador of Jesus Christ--in order to make the mission of Christian education possible and fruitful. We do the same today, for the same reason. "The Brothers, in fidelity to the call of the Spirit and the charism of their Founder, consecrate themselves to God in order to exercise, by association, their apostolic ministry of education" (emphasis mine).~° What does all this mean in terms of the purpose of the novi-tiate? Our statements of identity tell me that it is my consecrated life in community which I bring to the mission and which sus-tain me in it. Since this integrated totality is what makes a brother's life different from that of other persons who share in the apostolate of Christian education, the interiorization of con-secrated life in community and for the mission is what I must be about this year. What must concern me this year and during my entire life as a brother is not simply what I am to do, but how I am to live. I should be about the living of a life of ongoing con- The brother's vocation is an all-encompassing way of life in unhesitating response to the call of God in the depths of the brother's heart. Septentber-October 1996 Tidd¯ R~flections o~a Fin de Si~cle Novice version--to the Jesus of the Gospels and to the poor--the same evangelical journey that inspired John Baptist de La Salle to leave behind his former vocation as a canon of Reims and begin anew.n The very elements that seem so out of proportion here in the novitiate (prayer/consecration and community life) are precisely those habits of the mind and heart I must take with me back into the apostolate. Those realities are the soil from which the brother can hope to draw nourishment for the demands of the aposto-late. If he fails to. attend to the soil, the flower of his apostolic work will soon wither and die. If consecration and community become mere slogans or, even worse, contradictions to my daily life, my life as a brother will be in vain. Insofar as I embody the spirit of faith and zeal and express it in a community life that is lived fully, then my work will be Lasallian and my novitiate and my brotherhood will have meaning, both in the fin de si~cle and beyond. "I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, that you and your descendants may live" (Deuteronomy 3 0:19). Notes ~ Thirty-seventh General Chapter, Rule of Government of the Institute of the Brothers of the Christian Schools (Rome, 1947), pp. 192-193. This document was abrogated by the 39th General Chapter of 1966-1967;.all subsequent references to the Rule are to the text promulgated in 1987 after the 41st General Chapter of 1986. 2 Joan Chittister OSB, The Fire in These Ashes: A Spirituality of Contemporary Religious Life (Kansas City: Sheed and Ward, 1995), p. viii. 3 Thirty-ninth General Chapter, The Brothers of the Christian Schools in the World Today: A Declaration (Winona: St. Mary's College Press, 1968), article 13:1,2, p. 12. The author is indebted and grateful to Brothers Gerard Rummery FSC, Michael McKenery FSC, and Luke Salm FSC, whose novitiate lectures and informally shared insights were invaluable in this essay's preparation. The Declaration's genesis and enduring signifi-cance is well presented in Brother Luke's Religious Institute in Transition: The Story of Three General Chapters (Romeoville, Illinois: Christian Brothers Publications, 1992). 4 Declaration, articles 13:3, 4, 5, and 6. s Forty-first General Chapter, The Rule of the Brothers of the Christian Schools (Rome: Tipografia S.G.S., 1987), p. 27. 6 Foreword to the Declaration, p. iv. 7. John Baptist de La Salle. "De l'esprit de cet Institut," ROgles Communes (1718 ed.), in Rule, pp. 15-17; Rule, p. 15. s Rule, articles 17-17d and 146. Review for Religious 9 Rule, articles 24 and 9. lO Rule, art. 2. ~ This concept of De La Salle's life as an evangelical journey is superbly treated in St. John Baptist de La Salle: Announcing the Gospel to the Poor, by Brothers Michel Sauvage FSC and Miguel Campos FSC (Romeoville: Christian Brothers Conference, 1981). Presence Silence and stillness of night. How so? My eyes, my ears cry: False! Clouds scud cross a moon face; branches stretch and bend, flip, whip, and bow; leaves shiver, quiver, quake; whispers, trills, chirps, and whistles perforate the air. Stillness and silence? Not true. Yet there is a sense that knows it is so. But what? A minus of mortal motion ? A vacuum of virile voice? Perhaps, yet, more, I think. The airs of skin tingle and respond to it; an inward ear is pricked; a sacred presence permeates the space; a sacred voicelessness resounds within my soul around my self where I am held all stilled to wait to thirst to hunger a-lone. all one. Doris Bissonnette RJM September-October 1996 breaking boundaries 494 CLEMENTE BARRON Racism and Religious Life I did not learn about racism by taking sociological courses in school. I learned about racism by being born a Mexican- American in Texas in these United States. In the 1940s and 1950s, the decades in which I was born and raised, racism was an acceptable way of life. It was woven into the very fabric of our social and political life, our educa-tional and economic systems, and even into the way we practiced our Catholic faith. I did not have a choice in this matter, nor did my family or any of the other people who made up my world at that time. The existence of racism does not depend upon an indi-vidual's say-so, or even upon many people saying that it does or does not exist. I am sure that many of the public-opinion polls taken during the '50s and '60s were saying that racism existed only in isolated sections of the United States. Yet we now look back at that era of American his-tory and find many examples of racism in every segment of our society. Racism exists because it has been with us from the very beginning of our history. It continues to assert itself everywhere until someone or some movement challenges it. It will not disappear on its own. The gains the United States has made in regard to racism are mea-sured by wars, lives, and the heroic witness of courageous people, regardless of their position in society. Most of the Clemente Barr6n CP has worked with Hispanics during the twenty-five years of his priestly ministry. He lives at Casa Pasionista Guadalupe; 700 Waverly; San Antonio, Texas 78201. Review for Religious time these people had no special awareness of making any sig-nificant contributions to the eradication of racism. They just wanted a more just society for themselves and their children. It is not easy to write about racism. It is especially not easy when one is writing for a readership that shares the same faith or even the same vows and way of life or the same commitment to a social-justice agenda. It becomes still more difficult when all three of these factors are present. Yet it is the same sense of God, the same shared values, and the same commitment to justice that give me confidence to express these experiences and considerations of racism. There are many misunderstandings when it comes to racism. People do not know how to converse about racism as brothers and sisters in an open and free exchange of thoughts, opinions, and ideas. Many other issues get in the way of a good conversation on this subject. People of color tend to get angry and vitriolic and people of the dominant society tend to feel hurt or guilty when they talk about the subject. People of color often assume a victim's stance. People of the dominant society often separate themselves personally from racism: "Why are we making a fuss about this now since we are not racists?" Frequently people of color offer cosmetic solutions to this deeply complex, multilayered issue, while people of the dominant society offer solutions that address their own needs but not those of the people of color. The result is that we talk at each other, preach to each other, and instruct each other, but rarely have a good conversation with each other. Complexities of Racism This whole issue becomes even more complicated when we place this conversation within the context of religion and reli-gious life. Church teaching looks upon racism as evil and has rightly condemned it. In this context, racism is talked about in terms of sin, even as one of the most serious sins of our time. When we enter into a conversation about racism at this level, we highly personalize the issue. No one wants to begin a discussion with the feeling that she or he is being iudged a public sinner. Yet many religious feel that way when ~he discussion is about racism. Such a starting point makes for a poor conversation. On the other hand, many of us may not be aware of our racism just because we do not think of ourselves as racist; in fact, Septentber-October 1996 Barr6n * Racism and Religious Life we can identify many instances that demonstrate to us that we .are not racist. We do not want to be racist, and we believe that we are not, just on the basis of sheer willpower. Yet those of us who have tried to overcome addictive habits by sheer Willpower know that it takes more than goodwill to overpower a deeply ingrained habit or way of life. Defining Racism Racism is not easy to define. People of color tend to have a different definition and understanding of it than those of the dominant culture. People of color usually define racism as insti-tutionalized prejudice; since they do not control our society's insti-tutions, they do not consider themselves racists in the strict sense. People of the dominant culture have a difficulty with this concept because to them it says that people of color cannot be prejudiced--which is not true at all. People of color are just as prejudiced as other people. When it comes to racism, the issue is not prejudice; it is institutionalized prejudice. This is a classic case of one group wanting to focus on what is common (prejudice) and the other wanting to focus on what is not (control of insti-tutions). Progress is made when both sides accept each other's insights. Learning Racism I was not aware that I was living in a racist society when I was growing up in rural Texas. Life in the late '40s and '50s was hard, and in many ways society was pretty well defined. I was aware of the dos and don'ts of such a society. I knew that we lived in a part of town where most of the "mesicans" lived and that another part of town was "nigger town." I knew that our city offi-cials would always be "anglos" and the other leaders of our county and state would be, too. I could not conceive of a pastor or bishop being other than anglo. I knew that mesicans and niggers were not allowed to use the public facilities and fountains that anglos used. I also knew that we could not go into certain stores, like the bar-ber shop. It all seemed so normal. As time went by, other things became clearer. You just knew that you were not to do much socializing with those who were not of your ethnic grouping or race. At school the teachers were Review for Religious always careful to line us up so that we would be paired with our own kind. This was especially true in the lower grades, when we had to hold hands while standing in line. Somewhere along the weeks and years, you began to realize that socially it was not acceptable for you to date, much less think of marrying, anyone outside your ethnic or racial group. There were some exceptions, but the people involved in them were usually not socially acceptable in the first place. That was the way things were, and that was it. I do not remember my parents taking me aside to teach me the socialization rules of rural Texas. The time came when you just knew. You could have casual relationships with persons of another eth-nic or racial group. You could work for them and even beside them, but you just did not socialize with them on an equal basis. You just knew that, if push came to shove, you could not count on them. That is the way life was lived. Moreover, if you were a person of color, you felt you must project a friendly attitude at all times if you were going to be accepted by the dominant society. Someone who did not do that was seen as "not fitting in." Those who dared to demand rights and equality were considered troublemakers. This was brought home to us time and time again. In the early '60s, for example, when the civil-rights movement was begin-ning to peak, some of my friends went off to a Catholic college in San Antonio to continue their education. Home for the summer, a couple of them went to get a haircut at a barbershop owned by a member of the Knights of Columbus. They were refused service. They refused to leave. This caused a big scene. Eventually they left, but the incident produced a lot of ill feelings. These nice "Mexican" youths, accepted byall as hardworking and ambitious young men, had now become troublemakers. After a couple of years that barbershop was integrated, but I am sure that, in the eyes of many, these young men were marked for life as trouble-makers. We do not want to be racist, and we believe that we are not, just on the basis of sheer willpower. New Place, Old Ways I grew up in the era when the high-school seminary was a normal first step toward the priesthood and religious life. When L49 Septentber-Oaober 1996 Barrdn ¯ Racirm and Religious Life I expressed a desire to become a priest and religious, I was not sur-prised at all to be given the chance to attend a seminary prepara-tory high school. The school was in St. Louis, Missouri. Finding out if I had a vocation took me outside Texas for the first time, far away from my family and all familiar surroundings. It was only later on that I realized that the seminary prep school that I attended and the province I entered as a religious were, for me, extensions of the social realities of my youth in rural Texas. For me nothing had changed. The vast major.ity of my schoolmates were still anglos. All my superiors were anglos, too. I continued to see life around me through the same lenses I had used in rural Texas. I continued to use the same social categories and constructs that I had developed for myself in Texas. I was unable to realize that I had in fact been "liberated" from my Texas social environment and that I could really have new kinds of rela-tionships with others. Some experiences from my prep-school days come to mind and illustrate this point for me. In themselves these experiences are insignificant, yet like all experiences they shed light on what our life is about when seen within a wider context. For the first couple of years that I was at the prep school, we did not go home for the Christmas holidays. The big Christmas social event was the carnival. The seniors and college students would fix up the gym so that we could enjoy an evening of fun and games. It was a lot of hard work for them, but a lot of fun for us younger ones. At one of these events, a couple of guys wanted to take my picture and also wanted our picture to be taken together. I ran away from that all night long. I now believe they wanted me as a friend, and not just as a schoolmate, but I remember thinking at that time: "Why do they want a picture of me?" I remember, on another occasion, a classmate starting to play the piano on the spur of the moment in one of the music rooms. I started singing, and we had such a good time. When I was com-plimented on my singing, I remember being embarrassed. I said to myself: "I really do not know how to sing. He is just saying that!" I really did not recognize this as an affirmation and act of friendship until much later in my life. Another experience was a negative one. One day in my junior or senior year, I was put in charge of a work detail that involved getting the dry laundry sorted out into the individual laundry boxes. This was something new for me, being placed in charge of Review for ReliKious a work detail, and I was feeling good. As I made my way to the basement laundry room, I overheard a boy say to another in a normal voice: "I'm going back to the director and ask to work somewhere else. I'm not going to let a Mexican tell me what to do." I do not remember feeling much of anything. For me it was the exception for "Mexicans" to tell anglos what to do, regardless of education, expertise, or experience. That is the way life was then, and I accepted it. Upon reflection these experiences say something to me because I now see them within a social structure that hampered my power as an individual. I am not saying complete powerlessness, but certainly enough that my efforts to make it in life included special inhibitions about making any waves. While I recognize that there are some definite equalities in life and that all persons encounter some unjust situations that they must learn how to deal with boldly, I also know that some specific societal norms and customs made prisoners of me and others sharing my minority status. Racism and the'effects of racism were alive and well within my social environment, even in the prep school. The fact that I was not aware of all that was going on in terms of racism did not prevent my negative experience of racism. Awareness My first assignment after ordination in 1970 was to a retreat center in Houston, Texas. In the previous year a new association of Mexican-American priests had been formed: Padres Asociados para Derecbos Religiosos, Educativos, y Sociales (PADRES). Two rep-resentatives of PADRES came to visit me shortly after my arrival; we had a long talk. They were recruiting me for the organiza-tion. They talked to me about racism and discrimination in the church against Hispanics. I kept telling them that I did not feel discriminated against, and I did not think that our community was racist. While I could accept the fact that we lived in a racist society and that some people we lived with were racist, I had not yet come to an acceptance that my church was racist, much less my province. I thought I had really escaped racism. Only later did I discover that I had not escaped it; I had merely (and conveniendy) denied its existence within mylife experience. One reason why I began to reevaluate my position on this issue was my involvement with Hispanics at all levels of my life. L499-- September-October 1996 Barrdn ¯ Raci.rm and Religious Life We generally do not think about how social constructs such as words and language, policies and directives, and administrative and organizational structures welcome certain peopie or groups of people and exclude others. -- oo I began to listen to the stories of the Hispanic peoples who were becoming part of my ministerial life. I also began to appreciate the life stories of my own family as I heard them being repeated at family celebrations and gatherings. Every time I visited my aunts and uncles, I heard how difficult it was to be Hispanic and work for the church. It would be a mistake to assume that these people, my relatives and those I accompa-nied in ministry, were bitter and dis-illusioned people. There came a point at which I realized that these accounts were testimonies of peo-ple who loved the church even though they had suffered much at its hands. The most common theme woven through these stories was exclusion on the basis of ethnicity. Some were told in anger, some in resignation, and others just as com-mentaries to life. A fe.w of them may illustrate what I mean. When my parents would talk about their wed-ding day in 1935, they would tell us how they had to drive to the "Mexican" Church for their cere-mony. This church was, in reality, a mission of the parish church, a good ten miles away. We did not need much explanation, for we knew that Mexicans were not wel-comed in the main parish church. My mother also talked about how they had to stop for an hour or so in town on their way back home. They were very hun-gry and thirsty by the time they got there, since they had fasted from midnight to receive Holy Communion. They had to eat in the park.like area in front of the courthouse, because no restaurant would be open to them. In 1973 I began working in Los Angeles at a parish that had been forced into having a Sunday Mass in Spanish because the pastor did not think that there were enough Spanish-speaking parishioners within th~ parish boundaries. The parish finally put in a Spanish Mass after being pressured by a few vocal people. This change had taken place a year before I started working there Revie-w for Religious on weekends. By the time I left that parish to move on to another assignment in October 1975, a good deal of growth had taken place. We had standing room only at the Spanish Mass, a choir, eight Movimiento Familiar Cristiano (CFM) reflection groups that met every two weeks, a catechetical program in Spanish for more than 120 children, two Hispanic men who had applied to become (and eventually did become) deacons, and other signs of life and growth. What this said to me was that Hispanics who had been liv-ing in the area for years did not become involved in church life until there were pastoral leaders ready to welcome and support them. In more recent times, in a Los Angeles rectory, about a dozen of us who had gathered for a penance service were engaged in a lot of shoptalk around the dinner table. The talk came around to the different ethnic groups in the archdiocese, particularly the Spanish-speaking. One of the more recently ordained priests-- from a parish that had had a poor turnout for the Lenten penance service--wondered out loud why "these people" needed to have services in Spanish. A couple of nights later, for a penance service in a parish that does its best to serve various language groups, the church was packed. I heard confessions in English and Spanish for more than two hours. Over a dozen priests heard confessions in English, Spanish, and Vietnamese. A Deeper Analysis I cite these comparative incidents to illustrate institutional racism, even in the Catholic Church, and also to show that racism is not always intentional, malicious, or premeditated. In fact, I believe that in the majority of cases we are unaware that racism is operative in our lives. I believe that most people of good heart and goodwill have not reflected sufficiently on how social structures affect their ~lay-to-day lives. Our society's mores and laws have to a great extent come to exist, not in order to promote the reign 6f God, but to protect what the more wealthy and powerful incline to hoard for themselves. We generally do not think about how social constructs such as words and language, policies and direc-tives, and administrative and organizational structures welcome certain people or groups of people and exclude others. Racism is much more ingrained than we believe it is. Furthermore, even when there is recognition and formal repu- September-October 1996 Barr6n ¯ Racism and Religious Life diation of institutional racism, it becomes a major struggle to do something about it. It is not easy to change societal constructs, whether they be words, policies, or organizational structures. Along with our sense of guilt, we also experience a sense of help-lessness. We want to do something, we want to make a statement, we want to do the right thing; but, faced with the immense real-ity of it all, we do not know what to do. My Dealing with Racism I am aware of some evolution that has taken place within myself as I have struggled to understand the reality of racism. One of my earliest reactions to racism was the belief that making people alert to racism, aware of it, and acquainted with it would be enough to make them change their ways of thinking and act-ing. My task became one of revealing and unmasking the evil of racism so that racists would convict themselves and change, or feel the guilt of not changing. I really believed that people of good heart and goodwill would change, be converted, once they saw their own racism. So I became involved (and I still am) in programs and projects to raise the people's level of awareness regarding racism. I think that one reason why great numbers of people have been turned off by consciousness-raising is the way many "social-justice types" presented their case. Their rhetoric is often inflam-matory and confrontational. Sometimes these modern-day prophets use questionable data and much hyperbole to get across their points. I could admire their bravado, but I thought that, if they presented their points with calmness and serenity, then peo-ple would listen and would admit their racism. That is how I thought I would go about it. Sometimes this approach worked; more often it did not. I did not understand the power of denial, to use a psych.ological term, or the condition of blindness, to use a scriptural notion. You can say, "twenty million Hispanics," "eighty percent Hispanic," "one of the highest levels of poverty," "the highest dropout rate at school," and still get responses like "So what?" and "Prove it" and "Don't you think that it's their own personal fault they are the way they are?" Where racism is concerned, comprehension, understanding, reason, logic, facts, and all the other things that go into "knowing" can bring one only so far. Then you are going to Review for Religious have to say yes or no to that reality; you either embrace the truth or you walk away from it. I believe that the other approach, emotional and vitriolic, can at times be much more effective because it pulls us out of the ordinary rhythm of life and challenges us to affirm or deny our position with passion. Often it is in that passionate response that we come to know whether we are confronting truth or living a lie. It screams at us, and we cannot be deaf to it any longer. Living with Racism Once I owned up to the realization that it takes more than just awareness and acknowledgment of racism before some posi-tive response can take place, I was faced with a dilemma. What is an appropriate response to racism? If letting people know about racism, telling them facts or even leading them to some insight, is not enough, then what should I be doing? ' To do nothing is not an option. To be involved in educating people about the evil of racism is good, but it has not been very successful. So what is it that I can do? I have had to learn how to live with the reality of racism without allowing it to con-sume me or compromise me. Racism is both strong and insidious. If you are constantly fighting it, it will wear you down. If you never confront it, however, it will corrupt you and you will conform to it. I have had to learn how to live with it and still be sensitive to it. I have had to learn how to live within its grasp and still be able to name its evil. I have had to learn how to live with people who have no desire whatsoever for critical reflection on the subject and still not dis-count them as brothers and sisters. I also have had to learn that I could not fight racism alone and in isolation. I include in this understanding of aloneness or isolation the clique or inner circle that one forms when engaged in this kind of struggle. When you associate only with men and women of like mind and heart in regard to racism, you run the risk of having them become an extension of your own self. You then have two kinds of people, those who are enlightened by the truth and cleansed by the conversion experience (the inner circle) and What is an appropriate response to racism? To do nothing is not an option. September-October 1996 Barrdn * Racism an'd Religious Life those who are the great unwashed (the rest of humanity), who need to be purified before they can truly be a brother or a sister. And those of the inner circle know in their heart of hearts that hardly anyone from the great unwashed will ever make it to their level of purification and commitment. I believe that, in order to fight racism effectively, one needs to be allied with men and women who are at all stages of a~are-ness and commitment. There is no one of us who has always been right in each and every thought, word, deed, or omission. No one has a complete and correct theory of how life is to be lived. So we need to network with others who agree with us and with those who do not. We need to be in relationship with those who share our insights and with those who do not. We need to be a gen-uine brother or a sister to those who are racists and those who are not. Otherwise I do not see how we can bring about structural conversion. Some Strfita of Memory and Hope Looking at my parents today, I see an elderly couple who knew racism and its effects firsthand. They knew what it meant to live in segregated neighborhoods and in housing that was once chicken coops. My parents knew what it meant to be laid off work, to send their children to a broken-down building that served as the school for "Mexican" children, to be in the hospital without any insurance, to be excluded from stores and services, to be "Mexican" Catholics in a predominantly anglo community. I saw people come to our door and ask for advice or a helping hand or to have official letters read to them. We received many a Catholic missionary into our home, to eat with us and sometimes stay with us during the time they were evangelizing and catechizing. One day, as I shared this history with a group of people at a workshop, I found myself understanding the meaning of "being evangelized by the poor." My parents knew only one way to live in a racist society, and that was to love God with all they had and to love everyone else the best they could. Today I see a couple respected in their hometown and throughout the diocese for their perseverance, their faithfulness, their constancy in the faith and in the way they treat people. No matter how evil the structures were and how evil the people who strove to keep those structures in place may have been, my par- Review for Religious ents' faith has allowed them to overcome that evil. I do not see a bitter, broken-down couple blaming others for what they do not have, but a faith-filled couple continuing, by their example, to call others to a better way of life. Yes, society continues to be racist. The church continues to be racist. And, yes, there is racism even within my province. How should we respond, however, to our racism as a society, as a church and as a religious congregation, well, that is a conversation that we still need to have. Jesus Willing He could have multiplied currency as easy as loaves reasoned down other paths. he gave freely to everyone left the poor still poor rich with more than before. could have died another way unnoticed in desert sand lived as paralytic beggar with none coming to succor when angels stirred waters with a great serving spoon. for though he chose manger and tree, Peter and

Issue 54.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1995. ; 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: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ¯ \Vashington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1995 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 perlnission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional protnotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read Joann Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH-APRIL 1995 ¯ VOLUME54 ¯ NUMBER2 contents 166 180 Jiving reJigious ife Come Follow Me: Reflections on Some Current Theories of Religious Life Elizabeth McDonough OP suggests that the healthiness of religious life is not so much a matter of reconciling consecration and mission as it is a matter of finding a consistency between the espoused and operative values of a congregation. The Fruits of Consultation: The 1994 Synod's Instrumentum Laboris Rose McDermott SSJ presents evidence for the effectiveness of the consultative process in the formulation of the 1994 synod's working document. 192 196 being church Ash Wednesday and Faith's Grounding Kevin Richter reflects on the meaning of Ash Wednesday as ushering us into a season in which we seek to realize ourselves as "holy ground." The Elusive Reality of Church Renewal Erik Riechers SAC sketches out four attitudes that we need to make our own as we continue our efforts at church renewal. from the tradition 207 Providence Revisited Robert P. Maloney CM examines the place of providence in the spirituality of St. Vincent de Paul and makes contemporary applications. 224 Beguine Women: Medieval Spirituality, Modern Implications Marygrace Peters OP considers the Beguines as they appear on the stage of history, their growth and demise, and their spiritual legacy. 237 Stirred to Profound Gratitude Gerald M. Fagin SJ develops the Ignatian insight on the importance of gratitude in a growing intimacy with God. 162 Review for Religious 253 261 growing in prayer Models of Faith Sharing Martin Pable OFMCap underlines the importance of faith sharing for community life and suggests some methods of keeping it lively. Progress in Prayer Francis J. Ring SJ reviews the stages of maturing in prayer from traditions and personal experience. 276 279 experience in the Jord Midlife Tumor Se~in Sammon FMS ponders the meaning of a serious medical diagnosis in the midst of a busy apostolic life. Our Friendship in the Lord A religious priest and a woman religious share their experience of deep friendship in the context of their commitment to God and to their religious community. 283 report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1994 Kenneth G. Davis OFMConv, collaborating with Eduardo C. Fernfindez sJ, presents a panoramic of the year's events within the U.S. Hispanic Catholic community. departments 164 Prisms 301 Canonical Counsel: The Document on Community Life: Congregavit Nos in Unum Christi Amor 308 Book Reviews March-April 1995 163 pris s Shortly after I was appointed editor of Review for Religious in 1988, I spent time brows-ing through each issue of every volume from the journal's beginning in 1942 up to the current volume. What I dis-covered was an amazing chronicle of developments in reli-gious life and ministry over the past half century. The first article in the January 1942 was titled "Religious Consecration." Today it seems very contem-porary in view of the church's predilection for the term consecrated life in its new Code and in Roman documents during the 1980s and '90s. Spiritual direction was the theme most emphasized in the early 1940s, with some five articles and comments; the theme of vocations was sec-ond. Both topics receive even greater attention today. Psychological testing of candidates for religious life was taken up by articles in 1949 and into the early '50s. One religious superior wrote an indignant letter canceling his subscription, asserting that such testing interferes with the work of the Holy Spirit. A similar flurry of negative response came to the suggestion that religious should take time for vacations--a suggestion made in 1947. One reli-gious woman wrote strongly against this idea because Jesus, Mary, and the saints never had a vacation. As early as 1944 the first reflection about the adaptation of the religious habit for women was written, with subsequent articles through the 1950s, prompting a res~ponse by the canon lawyer Father Joseph Gallen SJ to the question "Why has Review for Religious emphasized so frequently the simplification of the habit of religious women?" His answer in 1957 was that we were trying to stir up some 164 Review for Religious response to the repeated calls from Pope Pius XII and various Roman curia congregations for change in the light of poverty, hygiene, and adaptation to our times. Although we seem to be in a different place, the topic still remains current. The first article written by a layman was in January 1962 (Vatican II began on 11 October 1962) and was entitled "Notes toward Lay Spirituality." In the next issue appears the first arti-cle by a laywoman, "Restoration with a Difference"--about a sec-ular institute in Washington, D.C. In 1969 we find the first of many articles on the guided or directed retreat. Almost twefity years ago, in 1976, the beginnings of the feminist emphasis are reflected in an article titled "Womanhood: A Selected Bibliography." From these few examples I hope that our readers can appre-ciate how challenges and developments have been recorded through the variety of articles and authors found in Review for Religious over the fifty years of its publication. The editorial staff and the advisory board now are inviting all our readers to an opportunity to enter into their own kind of survey of topics. We are publishing a new book, IND,; it provides a topical and author index for all the volumes of Review for Religious from 1942 through 1994. Since the world synod of bishops with its theme "The Consecrated Life and Its Role in 'the Church and in the World" was held in October 1994, it seems fitting to provide the unique perspective of our journal's articles over the past fifty years. INDEX will be a resource for current members of religious congregations and for candidates and novices in religious forma-tion programs. Historians and researchers and people fascinated by the phenomenon of religi6us life will find this book a valu-able tool. Our readers will find an advertisement and order form for INDEX on the last page of this issue. We hope that this book will bring us all to a greater appreciation of religious life in the church. David L. Fleming SJ March-April 1995 165 ELIZABETH McDONOUGH Come Follow Me: Reflections on Some Current Theories of Religious Life religious One among an array of recent church documents on religious life, Pope John Paul's apostolic exhortation Redemptionis donum (1984) presents a theology of religious profession in the context of the economy of salvation. It points out that the gospel consistently invites a response beyond the fulfillment of minimal commands and encour-ages behaviors that reflect a redemptive and Christocentric commitment. From the perspective of Redemptionis donum, religious profession inclines a person to overcome the world not in a haphazard fashion, but specifically in the likeness of Jesus Christ (§9). Above all, RD sees the primacy of being as the anthro-pological basis for a gospel vocation. That is, RD empha-sizes being over producing, possessing, and controlling. This primacy of being should produce for religious a lifestyle centered on the true value of the human person. It should witness to the mystery of redemption in the face of the widespread materialism, violence, moral erosion, and human exploitation that the world labors under today (§4). The new and fuller consecration of religious profes-sion, rooted in the sacrament of baptism, means that a person is entirely and freely given to God in a "particular style of life, witness, and apostolate, in fidelity to the mis- Elizabeth McDonough OP adapted this article from the pre-sentation she made at the 2nd International Symposium of Law of Religious held at the Catholic University of Lublin, 17-18 October 1994. She is the canon law editor of our journal. Her address is P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. 166 Review for Religious sion of [an] institute and to its identity and spiritual heritage" (§7). Chastity should provide an eschatological witness that makes transcendent realities present in the midst of temporal concerns (§11). Poverty should be clearly salvific and enable religious to enrich people, beyond any material giving, by becoming through poverty "a source for bestowing gifts on others in the manner of God" (§12). Obedience should have the redemptive potential of furthering growth in holiness through a continuous search for and response to the will of God in a manner similar to the obe-dience of Christ, which "constitutes the essential nucleus of the work of the redemption" (§13). Religious put their gifts at the service of the church through their own community by sharing in the mission entrusted to it by the hierarchy. Within the religious family, community life demonstrates caring for one another and bearing one another's burdens as true disciples of Jesus. The fundamental value of reli-gious, however, always consists in who they are rather than in what they do (§15). In Redemptionis donum it is clear that the wit-ness of religious life is primarily that of leading the world towards the definitive fulfillment for which all of creation longs, a fulfill-ment that will ultimately be found in God alone (§14). Earlier documents of the magisterium present similar notions of religious life. Vatican II's.dogmatic constitution Lumen gen-tium states that "the religious state of life., manifests in a spe-cial way the transcendence of the kingdom of God and its requirements over all earthly things" (§44). LG sees the primary value of religious life not in terms of sign or witness or service, but rather in terms of the sanctifying and redemptive reality of reli-gious life as intrinsic to the life and holiness of the church itself.1 The conciliar document Christus Dominus is even more explicit. Regarding the obligation of religious "to work zealously and diligently for the building up and growth of the whole Mystical Body of Christ and for the good of the particular churches," CD states: "It is their duty to promote these objec-tives primarily by means of prayer, works of penance, and the example of their own lives" (§33). Perfectae caritatis, the Vatican II document specifically dealing with religious, presents the focus of religious life as seeking and loving God "above all else" because God "has first loved us." Religious are called to "foster a life hidden with Christ in God" as the "source and stimulus" of everything they do.2 March-April 199Y 167 McDonougb * Come Follow Me As regards religious profession's deepest meaning, the magisterium clearly highlights, in a noncontradictory way, consecration as more fundamental than mission, being as more fundamental than having, and witness as more fundamental than service. Mutuae relationes, issued in 1980 jointly by the Congregations for Bishops and for Religious and Secular Institutes, notes that both "religious and their communities are called to give clear tes-timony in the church of total dedication to God. This is the fun-damental option of their Christian existence and their primary duty in their distinctive way of life" (§14a, citing LG §31). The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life, issued in 1981, states that contemplation bears witness "to the primacy of the personal relationship with God" and is "the unifying act of all human movement towards God." It sees prayer as "the indispensable breath" of religious life and asks that all religious cultivate "an atti-tude of continuous and hum-ble adoration of .God's mysterious presence in people, events, and things" (§ 1). CDRL urges "integration between interiority and activity" and cautions that the "first duty" of all religious is "being with Christ" (§§2, 4, and 5). Religious and Human Pro-motion, also issued in 1981, states that motivation for apos-tolic involvement should be based on (a) fidelity to the original purpose of one's reli-gious institute in the church, (b) witness to the gospel regarding the dignity and pur-pose of work, (c) comlnitment to the religious (original emphasis) dimension of one's life as expressing a radical experience of the kingdom, and (d) sharing in the daily challenge of community as expressing Christ's love (§8). Thus the motivation for, the manner of, and the limits on apostolic activity of religious must always flow from and be cir-cumscribed by one's consecration to God and consequent service of the church in and through a particular religious family. 168 Review for Religious According to RHP, religious involve themselves in the workplace not primarily as certified professionals, but primarily as bearers of pastoral concern (§9). In summary fashion, the theology of religious life gleaned from these documents places dedication to service squarely in the context of the gift of self accepted by the church. Even more basi-cally, as regards religious profession's deepest meaning, the mag-isterium clearly highlights, in a noncontradictory way, consecration as more fundamental than mission, being as more fundamental than having, and witness as more fundamental than service. Thus, the public vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience are supposed to render each religious both more able and more willing to man-ifest, in a personal way, the primacy of consecration over produc-tion, of being over possession, and of witness over power in a world dominated by forces of production, possession, and power. Conciliar and postconciliar documents offer no firm founda-tion, then, for the notion that there is in religious life any inher-ent conflict between consecration and mission. It is suggested by some current authors, however, that primacy of consecration and being and witness falsely places consecration before mission and introduces a new version of the dichotomy between the contem-plative and the active life and between monastic and apostolic aspects of religious life as such. Some of these current opinions on religious life are noted briefly here. Various Current Concepts of Religious Life A recent analysis of religious life by Jesuit George Aschen-brenner concludes that it is basically apostolic with tendencies towards monastic or active expressions. He suggests that every person and group can be located on the continuum of "a long clothesline" to which God attaches them like "a clothespin., to some part of the line.''3 His theological reason for a universal apostolic spirituality with two manifestations seems fair enough: "In the sense of a serious commitment to and involvement with our world, every disciple of Jesus must be intensely apostolic" (p. 655). This is true. But Aschenbrenner proceeds to r~duce all Christian spirituality and indeed all religious life to either a "monastic apostolic dynamic" or an "active apostolic dynamic." His division is more than a little inadequate, as well as somewhat contrived and even pejorative. March-April 1995 169 McDonougb ¯ Come Follow Me In a rather negative comparison, Aschenbrenner presents the monastic dynamic as determined by formal prayer, as influenced by order and routine, as set apart from the world, as based on stability and solitude, and as centered on physical presence in community (pp. 657-660). In contrast he presents the apostolic dynamic as determined by ministry, as based on flexibility for change, as able to find and serve God in all activity, as being mobile and available, and as providing unity beyond mere phys-ical presence (pp. 660-664). In Aschenbrenner's view, active reli-gious life simply must be "demonasticized" for it to experience authentic renewal. Another current analysis, by Brazilian Jesuit Marcello Azevedo, says that the distinctive character of religious life is "not the vocation to holiness (common to all Christians), but the pub-lic profession--recognized, legitimized, and appreciated by the church-- of the will to live fully and radically the gospel plan, coherently aria as the primary objective of one's life" (original emphasis).4 Thus its qualitative character identifies and justifies a religious vocation among many vocations in the church. At first, this qualitative emphasis seems similar to the view of Redemptionis donum. But, Azevedo notes, if religious life is deter-mined by this specifically qualitative identity, then no particular activity and no specific style of action, as such, can ever deter-mine religious life. The logical consequence, in practice, is that "every form of activity within the church and the world has always been, and should always be, open to religious" (p. 9). Thus Azevedo views religious life as currently "snarled and blocked" by a "juridical apparatus" that should not apply to its prophetic and charismatic nature in the first place. Indeed, from his perspective, the assertion of Lumen gentium that consecrated life does not belong to the hierarchical struc-ture of the church is understood to mean that religious life is dis-tinguished primarily by its own internal consistency (p. 9). In his subsequent analysis, Azevedo presents all religious life in terms of a single and particular internal consistency, namely, an orientation toward mission similar to Aschenbrenner's encompassing apos-tolic dynamic. Even the understanding of obedience as exercised in the apostolic organization of the Jesuits is considered equally applicable to all religious institutes, including monastics (pp. 80 and 88-89, n. 4). In a thoroughly pragmatic approach, Christian Brother Louis 170 Review for Religious DeThomasis analyzes religious life from a business perspective. Everything, he says, is achieved through management; and every-thing in religious life, from performance to purpose to resources, should be transformed to his "alternative paradigms" suggested by a successful business. In these transformed paradigms, community members are considered "stakeholders," rituals are rendered effec-tive in "social justice," and divine providence is replaced by "human potential.''s The church, according to DeThomasis, is basically a safety net to "help the people of God deal with the fundamental issues of their lives" and to "help them climb the hierarchy of needs toward self-actualization" (pp. 71 and 84). In religious life, as in any profit-oriented, capitalistic system, the "client. defines the relationship between those who are served and the religious who . . . provide needed services" (p. 41). In theory these ideas of DeThomasis may sound quite pagan. In fact, they are amazingly popular today in some religious circles. Another author, Australian Marist Gerald Arbuclde, writes extensively on the topic of "refounding" religious life and pre-. sents a totally anthropological concept of it.6 Refounding by prophetic persons is needed, he says, because in recent centuries religious life became based on assumptions contrary to its origi-nal vision. These contrary assumptions are a view of the world as evil, a sense of spiritual elitism, and uncritical support of the ecclesiastical status quo.7 ' According to Arbuckle (Out of Chaos, p. 48), religious life actually originates in "liminality." That is, it arises from an intrin-sically unstable state requiring one to embrace meaninglessness or chaos for the sake of expanded possibilities. Answers to the chaos engendered in the aftermath of Vatican II are to be found in (a) rediscovery of the power of Christ within, (b) renewed vitality identified with the power of the founding myth, (c) renewed fresh-ness of the role of religious life in the forefront of creativity, and (d) responding to the spiritual or pastoral needs of people (pp. 93-94). Arbuckle describes the current reaction of religious com-munities to the challenge of refounding in terms of "prophetic" or "escapist" tribal models borrowed from anthropology. In the prophetic model, which Arbuckle clearly favors, Christ's mission has priority over survival of the community ("Prophecy," p. 336). True, of course. Any role, however, for consecration in relation to religious life is notably absent in his analysis. Both his starting point and his ending are purely human realities. March-April 1995 171 McDonougb ¯ Come Follolv Me Irish Sacred Heart Father Diarmuid O'Murchu uses Arbuckle's ideas of liminality and refounding. O'Murchu presents religious life as a purely liminal and prophetic movement that belongs, not to thechurch, but to the world. His definition of vowed life is so global, so inclusive, so psychological, and so the-ologically different that it warrants direct quotation: "The vowed life is a creation of the collective unconscious; it is a dimension of the liminal space that human beings have invented and continue to create in order to express and articulate their deepest aspira-tions.'' 8 One might suggest that, if this did not so closely resem-ble the thought of certain Enlightenment philosophers and theologians, it could be considered the well-intentioned asser-tion of an enthusiastic adolescent coping for the first time with an experience of God. The purpose O'Murchu sees for religious life, however, is anything but naive or adolescent. His position is quite political in combining aspects of liberation theology with liminality. The task of religious, for O'Murchu, is that of being "change agents" and "social catalysts." These roles will be fostered, he says, once reli-gious (1) recognize the inadequacy of the mildly revised 13th-century theology offered by Vatican Council II and (2) replace "intellectually and spiritually naive" theories of the development of religious life with a theology based on experience (pp. 54 and 59). O'Murchu reduces celibacy to intimacy, reduces obedience to listening, reduces poverty to sharing, reduces community to rela-tionships, and reduces prayer to a source of social activity. Perhaps not surprisingly, he also reduces Jesus Christ to a very minor role in religious life and to an incidental foundation for his thoughts. A highly detailed and significant sociological analysis of reli-gious life in the United States has recently been published by Vincentian Father David Nygren and St. Joseph Sister Miriam Ukeritis. This is commonly known as the FORUS study, from the acronym for its complete title: The Future of Religiorts Orders in the United States. The study was conducted from 1989 through 1992 and was funded by an independent research foundation. It had initial and ongoing cooperation from the then existing con-ferences of major superiors, and it included congregations rep-resenting over 125,000 men and women religious.9 Reference to the FORUS study is not intended to present reli-gious life in the United States as normative for religious life else-where in the world. It is to recognize, however, that religious in 172 Review for Religious the United States can have a certain influence on the views of many religious elsewhere, especially in the English-speaking world. The FORUS study explicitly identifies and directly chal-lenges some of the prevailing opinions espoused by both men and women religious in America regarding the trends and conse-quences of renewal since Vatican Council II. Indeed, its findings challenge some of the perceptions of religious life presented by authors mentioned above. The FORUS study admits that the degree of change for religious in the United States has been dras-tic since Vatican II. It acknowledges that many of the effects of post-conciliar renewal may not be within what was originally intended (p. 225). In keeping with a recent trend in analyzing religious life, the study employs paradigms--descrip-tive sociological models--to explain various observable phenomena related to renewal.1° Its final rec-ommendations rather bluntly sug-gest that the present task for religious is primarily to "demon-strate credible witness with little discrepancy between what they espouse and how they act" (p. 239). The FORUS study indicates that most religious communities have been in a multifaceted "interpretive" paradigm for about a quarter century. This means that there are subjective and com-peting worldviews espoused by groups within most communities and that these groups more or less vie with each other for a pro-portionate share of community resources and for proportionate control of decision-making authority. Now, however, according to Nygren and Ukeritis, communities are moving in the direction of one or another of two basic orientations.~ The FORUS study refers to these two basic orientations by the technical sociologi-cal terms "functionalist" and "structuralist" paradigms. In rela-tion to religious life, it may be more helpful to refer to these respective orientations as traditional and progressive, without, The FORUS study explicitly identifies and directly challenges some of the prevailing opinions espoused by both men and women religious in America regarding the trends and consequences of renewal since Vatican Council II. March-April 1995 173 McDonougb * Come Follow Me however, attaching positive or negative connotations to these descriptive labels. Communities which are tending toward the traditional ori-entation for religious institutes (or toward the "functionalist" paradigm, in sociological terms) seek an ordered and rather reg-ulated environment based on a single identity that is manifest through work or attire or clear membership boundaries or all of these aspects. These communities use incremental-change mech-anisms and operate on the basis of a product economy. That is, they identify perduring needs as worthy of ministry in keeping with their charism. They tend to establish institutions, or gradu-ally adapt already existing ones, in order to meet these perduring needs. They prepare vowed members for ministry as qualified personnel within or in relation to these institutions, which in turn both support and express various aspects of their charism. The FORUS study suggests that communities such as the Little Sisters of the Poor, Benedictine monks, and the Daughters of Charity are in this functionalist (that is, traditional) orientation that favors convergen.ce in ministry and lifestyle along with continuous incre-mental change (p. 227). Communities that are tending toward the progressive orien-tation for religious institutes (or toward the "structuralist" paradigm, in sociological terms) assume that there is a need to overcome, through empowerment of the oppressed for social change, the organizational domination exercised by certain seg-ments of society. These communities use dramatic reorientation programs and operate on the basis of a market economy. That is, they respond to prevailing needs in various locations as express-ing individual but interdependent manifestations of their charism. They tend to avoid institutional commitments, both in what may formerly have been their own institutions and in related institu-tional settings. They foster broad-based and open-ended min-istry preparation and individual apostolic placement, which in turn often require major internal readjustment and new expres-sions of various aspects of their charism. The FORUS study sug-gests that communities such as the Sisters of Loretto, the Sisters of St. Joseph, and the Alexian Brothers are in this structuralist (that is, progressive) orientation that favors radical and somewhat discontinuous reorganization of ministries and lifestyles (p. 228). More significant, however, are findings of the FORUS study that stem from and relate to the different orientations just 174 Review for Religious described. The data indicates that most members of most reli-gious orders in the United States have simply ass~med that a prod-uct- oriented approach of continuous incremental change for religious life is inadequate for meeting contemporary needs. At the same time, they have simply assumed that a market-oriented approach involving major reorganization will be efficacious for religious life as it enters the third millennium. In other words, to use more common parlance, there is a certain fore-gone conclusion that the for-mer structures and functions of religious life are simply out-dated and inadequate for meet-ing needs in the world of today and that only new structures and functions will guarantee a future for religious life (p. 229). Other findings of the study, however, indicate that efforts at radical reorganization in pro-gressive communities have often failed. They have simply been eclipsed by internal con-cerns about financial limita-tions, loss of institutions, decreased personnel, aging membership, and diversified ¯ ministries. In contrast, FORUS findings show that efforts at convergent, incremental change in traditional communities have often been successful. They have sustained a pattern of serving the poor with integrated services delivered from a context of distinct purpose, centralized govern-ment, characteristic ministry, external identification, and com-mon practices. It should also be noted that FORUS places current feminist agendas in the structuralist (that is, progressive) orien-tation and identifies two conferences of major superiors in America as openly advocating this orientation.12 Note the striking correlation between the predominant struc-turalist (that is, progressive) orientation identified in the FORUS study and much of the prevailing literature on religious life.13 Most members of most religious orders in the United States have simply assumed that a product-oriented approach of continuous incremental change for religious life is inadequate for meeting contemporary needs. March-April 1995 175 McDonough * Come Follow Me As has been seen, Azevedo suggests that any and every form of activity should be open to religious so long as their way of life manifests an "inner consistency." In the same vein, Mercy Sister Doris Gottemoeller, immediate past present of LCWR and audi-tor at the 1994 Synod of Bishops, recently defined religious life as being constituted entirely by fidelity to a self-defined and self-chosen inner consistency. DeThomasis advocates imaginative transformation to alternative paradigms so that religious life will have meaning in the 21st century. Arbuckle urges abandoning outdated structures in favor of total refounding in the chaotic aftermath of Vatican II. O'Murchu presents the task of religious as fostering social change emerging from their liminal experi-ence. The theory of prophetic liminality is completely adopted by Sister Anne Munley IHM in a study commissioned by LCWR which appeared immediately after the publication of the FORUS study and countered many of its findings. Munley obviously advo-cates the progressive orientation as identified by Nygren and Ukeritis and cautions against the "entrenchment" of previous forms of religious life; she promotes an "emerging paradigm" for the future and wants to see religious "breaking free from stag-nant relationships based on dominance and subordination." ,4 Regardless of the prevailing literature, however, the FORUS study articulates one transparent conclusion as valid for all reli-gious communities, whether their orientation is towards a struc-turalist (progressive) or a functionalist (traditional) paradigm. In sociological terms, that conclusion makes an explicit correlation between an institute's tradition and its response to the social and ecclesial environment. According to the FORUS conclusion, directed specifically to apostolic institutes, "those that are most responsive to pressing need and motivated by the love of Christ will be vitalized as long as their efforts are consistent with their tradition . Their purpose must be clear and their efforts to achieve, unencumbered . Until the external perception of apos-tolic religious orders is congruent with their self-definitions (that is, until they do what they profess), their membership is likely to remain limited in numbers and their social credibility will be threatened" (p, 2 3 5). Let me repeat the key elements of this conclusion: respon-siveness to pressing need; motivation deriving from the love of Christ; consistency with an institute's tradition; clarity of purpose; unencumbered efforts; and actions that match the institute's message. 176 Review for Religious In terms of the vowed life, the elements of this conclusion are closely related to the primacy of consecration, of being, and of witness as presented in the theology of the magisterium con-cerning religious life. This FORUS conclusion also touches the heart of the matter regarding real or apparent conflicts between consecration and mission in religious life. The FORUS findings are clear that, whatever may be the work of religious in the world, it is far less significant than their credibility in the world's eyes and that this credibility will always be threatened "until they do what they profess." So say the sociologists on the basis of data gathered from a study representing over 125,000 men and women religious in the United States of America. Points of Contact and Comparison Recall that in Redemptionis donum religious are called both to embrace the will of God totally and to overcome the world in the likeness of Jesus Christ (§9). Recall, too, that Religious and Human Promotion sees all religious life as being apostolic in response to the world. In parallel fashion, The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life presents all religious life as being contemplative in response to God. That is to say, there is no such thing as authentic activity for religious which is not fully informed by prayer, and there is no such thing as authentic life for religious themselves which is not thoroughly grounded in contemplation. Further, for practical situations, Religious and Human Promotion identifies four criteria--"four loyalties"--for the activity of all religious in bringing the gospel to bear on their response to authentic human need. These cri'teria are (1) fidelity to human-ity and to our times, (2) fidelity to Christ and to the gospel, (3) fidelity to the church and to its mission in the world, and (4) fidelity to religious life and to the charism of one's institute (§13). Documents of the magisterium concerning consecrated life, then, do not so much impose specific behaviors on religious as invite wholehearted and faithful responses from them. The FORUS conclusion mentioned above presents a very similar posi-tion, namely, that religious communities will survive and even thrive when they exhibit responsiveness to pressing need, moti-vation from the love of Christ, consistency with their tradition, clarity of purpose, unencumbered efforts, and actions that match March-April 1995 177 McDonougb ¯ Come Follow Me their message. The FORUS study identifies as necessary a recog-nizable consistency between the espoused and operative values of religious if they are to be credible witnesses in the world. Church documents call religious to this same consistency and witness. In contrast to some current theories of religious life, then, perhaps it is not so much a matter of reconciling consecration and mission--or even a matter of producing new theologies and new forms of religious life--as it is a matter of finding a proper balance and expression of the obligations religious have already embraced. Religious are not called upon either by the world or by the church to be anything other than who and what they are. Indeed, they are called upon to be precisely who and what they are, and they are called upon to do so precisely in the lived real-ivy of what they have professed. Notes ~ P. Molinari and P. Gumpel, Chapter VI of the Dogmatic Constitution "Lumen Gentium" on Religious Life, trans. M.P. Ewen (Rome: Gregorian University, 1987), pp. 154-163. 2 Perfectae caritatis §6. This emphasis for religious should not be a surprise, however, because Ad gentes §11 presents the witness of all Christians primarily as in their lives, not in their works. Good works, though, do flow from true Christian life: "All Christians by the example of their lives and the witness of the word, wherever they live, have an obliga-tion to manifest the 'new man' which they put on in baptism, and to reveal the power of the Holy Spirit by whom they were strengthened at confirmation" (emphasis added). 3 G. Aschenbrenner, "Active and Monastic: Two Apostolic Lifestyles," Review for Religious 45, no. 5 (September-October 1986): 653-668, at 656. 4 M. Azevedo, Vocation for Mission (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), p. 8. s L. DeThomasis, Imaginations: A Future for Religious Life 0Ninona, Minnesota: Metanoia Group, 1992), p. 129. 6 G. Arbuckle, Out of Chaos: Refounding Religious Congregations (New York: Paulist Press, 1988). 7 Arbuckle, pp. 68-77. See also Arbuckle's article "Prophecy or Restorationism in Religious Life," Review for Religious 52, no. 3 (May- June 1993): 326-339. 8 D. O'Murchu, Religious Life: A Prophetic Vision (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1991), p. 48. 9 D. Nygren and M. Ukeritis, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States (Westport, Connecticut: Praeger Publishers, 1993). Hereafter 178 Review for Religious cited as FORUS. An earlier, shorter version entitled "The Religious Life Futures Project: Executive Summary" appeared as the entire edition of Origins 22, no. 15 (24 September 1992), and was published shortly there-after in Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6-55. l0 An influential article among Americans regarding paradigm shifts was the historical and sociological analysis of Marianist Brothers L. Cada and R. Fitz, "The Recovery of Religious Life," Review for Religious 34, no. 5 (September-October 1975): 690-718. This article was later expanded into a book, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (New York: Seabury Press, 1979). Fitz and Cada rely heavily on, but do not cite, the work of R. Hostie, Vie et mort des ordres religieux (Paris: Desclde, 1972). The paradigm-shift theory can be traced to T. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970). For a critique of the application of paradigm shifts to religious life, see E. McDonough, "The Past Is Prologue: Quid Agis?" in Review for Religious 51, no. 1 (1992): 78-97, especially 90-93. " Characteristics of these orientations are treated in summary form in FORUS, pp. 226-230, and in more detail in chap. 1 of the study, pp. 2- 15. ,2 See FORUS, pp. 226 and 229, respectively. The latter may be a sig-nificant finding since both the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM) and the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) were directly involved in the three-year FORUS survey and had repre-sentatives on the FORUS advisory board. That is to say, the FORUS study seems to have identified a role exercised by CMSM and LCWR somewhat beyond that which is envisioned for such conferences by Vatican II and in church law: See Perfectae caritatis §42-§43;Mutuae relationes §21; and CIC, canon 708. ,3 On the other hand, there are some works supporting the function-alist or traditional orientation of the FORUS study. Research by Immaculate Heart of Mary Sister Eleace King supports the ability of tra-ditional communities to attract and keep new members. See her intro-ductory sections to the CARA Formation Directory (Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate) for the years 1991, 1992, 1993, and 1994-1995. Albert DiIanni, vicar general of the Marist Fathers from 1985 to 1993, has written a series of articles whose content lends objective support to the functionalist (or traditional) orientation. These cover such topics as the influence of modernity on religious vows, God as the proper object of religion, and the significance of current vocation trends. These articles have recently been collected and published in A. Dilanni, Religious Life as Adventure: Renewal, Refounding, or Refo~wt? (New York: Alba House, 1994). See also, E. McDonough, "Juridical Deconstruction of Religious Institutes," Studia Canonica 26 (1992): 307- 341, and "Charisms and Religious Life," Review for Religious 52, no. 5 (September-October 1993): 648-659. ,4 A. Munley, Threads for the Loom: LCFVR Planning and Ministry Studies (Silver Spring, Maryland: LCWR, 1992), pp. 1, 11, and 12. March-April 199~ 179 ROSE McDERMOTT The Fruits of Consultation: The 1994 Synod's Instrumentum Laboris During most of October 1994, bishops and other partici-pants of the ninth ordinary session of the Synod of Bishops discussed "Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World." The remote preparation for this assembly was the Lineamenta issued 20 November 1992, in which twenty-five questions on the topic of consecrated life were addressed to the worldwide church by the Vatican Synod Secretariat.~ Following this consultation, the same secretariat released the Instrurnentum laboris or working paper for the synod on 20 June 1994.2 This is the text that guided the synod's participants in their discussions on consecrated life. The purpose of this article is to note some of the Instru-menturn's significant revisions (vis-a-vis the Lineamenta) that resulted from the worldwide consultation. An overview of the format of the Instrumenturn and some observations on the revisions in comparison with the Lineamenta will show the positive results effected by the consultative process, which engaged the entire ecclesial community. The Format of the Instrumentum Laboris The Instrumentum laboris, composed of 111 paragraphs and 268 endnotes, is significantly longer than the Lineamenta, which Rose McDermott SSJ is a faculty member of the Department of Canon Law at the Catholic University of America. Her address is Holy Trinity Convent; 1554 35th Street N.W.; Washington, D.C. 20007. 180 Review for Religious contained 47 paragraphs and 130 endnotes. Like the Lineamenta, the working paper has an introduction and a conclusion; how-ever, the Instrumentum is divided into four parts, in contrast to the Lineamenta's three. The length of the Instrumentum can be attributed to the discussion, in part 2 (§§41-65), of consecrated life within the context of the mystery of Christ and the church and the expansion, in part 4 (§§86-110), of the section on the role of con-secrated life in the mission of the church. These two sections of the Instrumenturn are the more significant revisions and improve-ments of part 1, section 1 (§§5-13), and part 3, section 2 (§§42- 44), of the Lineamenta. The Lineamenta began with a presentation of the nature and identity of consecrated life, moved on to a reflection on its wit-ness and activity in the church and world today, and concluded with a hope for the future role of consecrated life in the mission of the church. The Instrumentum, on the other hand, begins with an examination of the spiritual and pastoral characteristics of con-secrated life today, moves to a theological presentation of this vocation within the mystery of Christ and the ecclesial commu-nity, and concludes with a challenge to consecrated life in the church's mission to the world. This format enables the reader to focus on the present reality of consecrated life, reflect on its the-ological foundations, and have hope for its future in the life and mission of the church. The format, moreover, precludes the seem-ing dichotomy of the church and world reflected in the format of the Lineamenta. Significant Revisions in the Instrumentum Laboris The Instrumentum's Introduction. A Stance of Listening The introduction to the Lineamenta (§§1-4) explained .the for-mat of the synod, gave a rationale for choosing the topic of con-secrated life, and recalled the magisterium's conciliar and postconciliar teachings on consecrated life. The purpose of the Lineamenta was to present the essential elements of consecrated life as a guide for all those responding to the invitation to engage in the consultation. The introduction to the Instrumentum (§§1-7), however, places the synodal fathers in a listening stance before the thoughts and experiences of the rest of the Christian faithful at this moment in the history of salvation. It stresses the importance of the partic- March-April 1995 181 McDermott ¯ The Fruits of Consultation ipation of the entire church membership in this ecclesial event (§1). It gratefully acknowledges the tremendous outpouring of responses to the twenty-five questions posed by the Lineamenta and manifests respect for the differing points of view expressed by the respondents (§3). It acknowledges that the respondents have pointed to the complexity of the topic at hand and that sensitiv-ity is needed in addressing such diversity (§4). It takes note that various respondents have different experiential perspectives on consecrated life today. Some recognize it as a time of transfor-mation or profound change, while others see it as a time of renewal, revitalization, and refoundation (§4). Finally, the intro-duction explains the meaning and limits of the term "consecrated life" within the context of the lnstrumentum and the synod itself (~95-6). This was a noted lacuna in the Lineamenta.3 The Instrumentum's Part 1. Consecrated Life Today Part 2 of the Lineamenta, "Consecrated Life in the Church and the World of Today" (9925-33), recognized the profound societal and ecclesial changes that affect consecrated life. After describing a number of positive results of the efforts at renewal and adaptation made by institutes of consecrated life and by their individual members (9926-27), the Lineamenta enumerated vari-ous negative experiences and problems. The bishops gathered at the synod would assist consecrated persons in the continuing renewal prompted by the Second Vatican Council (928). This section seemed to judge members and institutes of consecrated life on their inability to meet successfully all of the challenges experienced in society and the church over the past thirty years. Part 1 of the Instrumentum laboris, "Consecrated Life Today" (998-40), celebrates the wide variety and different forms of con-secrated life. Several responses recommended that the distinc-tive charism of each institute is the key to interpreting the whole of consecrated persons' experience: their living of the counsels, spirituality, apostolate, communal life, formation, and organiza-tion (911). This input of the respondents pointed to the com-plexity and sensitivity of the topic which the synod's participants had to address. Likewise, unlike the Lineamenta, the Instrumentum offers a profile of men and women in consecrated life today. Those who critiqued the Lineamenta called attention to this sig-nificant lacuna.4 Women represent 72.5 percent of the member-ship of institutes of consecrated life, while 82.2 percent are laypersons (98). Knowledge of the various charisms or spiritual 182 Review.for Religious traditions and attentiveness to the experiences and voices of women and nonclerical male religious are important considera-tions for the synod. Unlike the Lineamenta, the Instrl~mentum does not make judg-ments on the achievements and failures of consecrated life during its period of renewal and adaptation. Rather, it reviews for the benefit of the entire church the profound changes that have affected the living of the evan-gelical counsels and the perma-nent commitment of those responding to the vocation to follow the poor, chaste, and obedient Christ (§§14-17). It recognizes and commends the heroic efforts made by institutes and members to renew and adapt in accord with the exhor-tations of the Second Vatican Council and their own charisms. Likewise, the text acknowledges the enormous challenges encountered today in living out the. commitment to consecrated life (§ 18). In objectively pointing to the difficulties encountered by persons professing the evangel-ical counsels, the Instrumentum is far more supportive and less judgmental than the Lineamenta. The Instrumentum seems to enter into dialogue with consecrated persons, rather than judge the ability of institutes and members to address these societal and ecclesial challenges (§§23-26). The responses to the Lineamenta hoped that synod would encourage a continuation on the path indicated by the Second Vatican Council. This confirmation in the Instrumentum is welcomed by many who were discouraged by the negative judgments made in the Lineamenta. The great transi-tions that consecrated life is experiencing today cannot be exam-ined apart from the obedient response of these institutes and their members to the conciliar mandate to renew and adapt (§ 14).5 Several responses recommended that the distinctive charism of each institute is the key to interpreting the whole of consecrated persons' experience: their living of the counsels, spirituality, apostolate, communal life, formation, and organization. March-dpril 1~95 183 McDermott ¯ The Fruits of Consultation The mystery of Christ and the church is foundational for those professing the evangelical counsels. A vocation to consecrated life is rooted in Christ and one's baptismal consecration. The Instrumentum's Part 2. Consecrated Life in the Mystery of Christ and the Church Part 1, section 1, of the Lineamenta discussed "The Nature and Identity of the Consecrated Life" (§§5-13). Unfortunately, this section attempted to explain the fundamental elements of consecrated life without rooting the vocation in the mystery of Christ and the church. This regrettable lacuna was noted in the consultation process.6 The Second Vatican Council (LG §46) taught that consecrated life has its roots in the mystery of Christ and the gospel. Likewise, while conse-crated life does not belong to the hierarchical structure of the church, it belongs undeniably to her life and holiness (LG §44). Part 2 of the lnstrumentum laboris, "Consecrated Life in the Mystery of Christ and the Church" (§§41-65), seeks to remedy this omission; the entire part is a wel-come and significant expansion of part 1, section 1, of the Lineamenta. The first six para-graph~ (§§41-46) describe conse-crated life as a gift of the Holy Spirit to the church and root it firmly within the sacramental and charismatic dimension of the church. The vocation.is a call to an intense following of the life and teachings of Christ as reflected in the gospel. A noteworthy quotation from Mystici Corporis sub-stantiates the importance of the living of the evangelical coun-sels in a variety of institutes in the ecclesial community: "When she embraces the evangelical counsels, the church reproduces in herself the poverty, obedience, and virginity of the Redeemer. Through the multiple and diverse institutions adorning her like so many jewels, in a certain sense she shows forth Christ in con-templation on the mountain, preaching to the people, healing the sick and wounded, calling sinners back to the right way, and doing good to all" (§43). 184 Review for Religious This explanation by Pope Plus XII of the ecclesial meaning of the charisms is well known and often quoted; it was incorporated into Lumen gentium ~46 and canon 577 of the Latin Code of Canon Law. In employing this text, the Instrumentum describes the priestly, prophetic, and kingly mission of those called to conse-crated life. The mystery of Christ and the church is foundational for those professing the evangelical counsels. A vocation to con-secrated life is rooted in Christ and one's baptismal consecration. Consecrated life is gift of the Holy Spirit to the church, as the church is gift of the Father to the world.7 The Instrumentum's Part 3. Consecrated Life in Ecclesial Communion Part 3, section 1, of the Lineamenta, "Consecrated Life in the Church Communion" (§§34-41), presented the relations of insti-tutes and members of consecrated life with the hierarchy from a rather rigid authoritarian perspective. It seemed to overlook what had been requested of the bishops and members of consecrated life in Mutuae relationes.8 Words and phrases such as "submisSion," "subjection," and "total and ready acceptance of directives" lacked the collaborative and cooperative qualities encouraged between bishops and religious in the document on mutual relations (§36). While the Lineamenta encouraged clerical religious to become involved in the presbyteral council, there was little mention of the specific roles or participation of other members of institutes of consecrated life in the mission of the particular churches (§39). Entities such as conferences, councils, and unions of major superiors were to enter into dialogue with the hierarqhy, but there was no indication in the Lineamenta of a corresponding episcopal responsibility for such cooperation (§38). Likewise, no mention was made of the many efforts of both bishops and major superi-ors at national and diocesan levels to enter into more collabora-tive relationships for the sake of the church's mission. Part 3 of the Instrumentum, "Consecrated Life in Ecclesial Communion," remedies these flaws and omissions in the Lineamenta. It describes the relationship of consecrated life to the universal and the local church. This section is perhaps the most reworked part of the Lineamenta. Twenty paragraphs (§§66- 85) revise and expand the same topic discussed in the eight para-graphs of part 3 of the Lineamenta (§§34-41). Part 3, section 1, explains ecclesial communion as sacra-mental, hierarchical, and charismatic (§67). All are called to par- March-April 1995 185 McDermott ¯ The Fruits of Consultation ticipate in the mission of the church--lay people, clerics, and those professing the evangelical counsels. This section explains the living of the evangelical counsels as a participation in the priestly, prophetic, and kingly offices (munera) of Christ (§71). The communion of the institutes and their members with the universal church is recognized and lived through the particular churches' witness to and participation in Christ's three munera (§§72-73). The lnstrumentum acknowledges the efforts of bishops and those consecrated by the profession of the counsels to build authentic relations through communication and collaboration among themselves and with the other clergy and the laity (§§73- 74). Noticeably absent are the harsh mandates to "subjection, "total and ready acce.ptance of directives," and "submission to the authority of bishops" expressed in the Lineamenta. Instead, there is an emphasis on the positive results of dialogue, mutual rela-tions, collaboration, and cooperation. The bishops are called to their serious responsibility of appreciating consecrated life and receiving the service of consecrated persons for the pastoral needs of the particular churcl~ (§75). . The lnstrumentum's Part 4. Consecrated Life in the Church's Mission In part 3, section 2, "Consecrated Life in Church Mission" (§§42-44), the Lineamenta called those in consecrated life to par-ticipation in the new evangelization through the witness and proclamation of the gospel. The spiritual and apostolic legacy of institutes of consecrated life, particularly those dedicated to mis-sionary activity, can contribute immeasurably to the remaking of the Christian fabric and the promotion of the unity of all the bap-tized (§43). This section called those committed to living the gospel to accept the responsibility of making it known in today's world (§42). Consecrated persons are called to undertake the new evan-gelization by manifesting the charity of Christ in many ways: to the young, to the poor, in schools, in the promotion of culture, in fostering peace and justice (§44). While this section of the Lineamenta was certainly positive in restating traditional aposto-lates, it seemed to lack a description of the creative response required of institutes of consecrated life and their members to meet the challenges inherent in addressing the felt needs of God's people in today's world. 186 Review for Religious Part 4 of the Instrumentum, "Consecrated Life in the Church's Mission" (§§86-110), significantly expands part 3, section 2, of the Lineamenta. There are twenty-five paragraphs in the Instrumentum in comparison with the three paragraphs of the Lineamenta. This part 4 of the Instrumentum looks to the future responsibilities of members and institutes of consecrated life in the mission of the church. These new challenges will require a renewal in spiri-tual and apostolic vitality (§§86- 87). There is a strong appeal for the fostering of vocations to all forms of consecrated life (§89). Institutes of consecrated life are obliged to provide an intense formation for those accepting the vocation to a life conse-crated by the counsels. Great emphasis is placed on the min-istry of formation, the forma-tion of formators, and the formation required in address-ing the new demands of conse-crated life (§§91-92). Considerable attention is devoted to women, who consti-tute three-fourths of the mem-bers of consecrated life. These women require a formation that is at once thorough, integral, and dynamic in preparation for their significant contribution to the mission of the church. Admittedly, women are still far from full engagement in the church~ their ecclesial role must be clari-fied and officially recognized (§88). Two paragraphs of this section are devoted to the importance of inculturation for the effectiveness of consecrated life in the church's mission. One of the greatest future challenges of institutes of consecrated life is to express themselves in diverse cultures. This is a complex reality that demands knowledge of the civi-lization, tradition, language, and customs of a people and accep-tance of individual persons (§§93-94). Consecrated life has a special role in the new evangelization, since its members represent Christ in responding to the demands The bishops are called to their serious responsibility of appreciating consecrated life and receiving the service of consecrated persons for the pastoral needs of the particular church. March-April 1995 187 McDermott ¯ The Fruits of Cons~dtation Called first to conversion or self-evangelization, consecrated men and women can transform and humanize society through the witness of their lives and the charisms or gifts they have received. of the beatitudes. Called first to conversion or self-evangeliza-tion, consecrated men and women can transform and humanize society through the witness of their lives and the charisms or gifts they have received (§95). They are called to examine traditional apostolates and to extend themselves in new endeavors: ecu-menism, interreligious dialogue (particularly with the Jews), and working more closely with asso-ciates and lay people. Special mention is given to apostolic endeavors directed towards the poor, the sick and suffering, youth, family life, the further-ance of peace and justice, and the promotion of culture (§§98-109). The work of this synod is to make the new evangelization alive and effective in consecrated life. Those in consecrated life must extend their essential fol-lowing of Christ to a further evangelical and apostolic dimen-sion. The Instrumentum calls for finding new forms of apostolic presence through an exploratory review of the traditional aposto-lates, of the gifts of the institute's members, of geographic loca-tions, and of ecumenical per-spectives. This section of the Instrumentum emphasizes the principle that the charism of an institute of consecrated life is a gift to the church for the world. Clearly the experiences of institutes of consecrated life serving in the church's mission throughout the world contributed immeasurably to the improvement of this part of the Instrumentum laboris. The Instrumentum's Conclusion. A Call to Fidelity The conclusion to the Lineamenta (§§45-47) dealt with three topics in three paragraphs. Yet it seemed more a continuation of the discussion of the document than a summary or conclusion. It presented Mary as the example par excellence for those who follow the virginal, poor, and obedient Christ (§45), Throughout 188 Review for Religious the history of the church, the many gifts or charisms of conse-crated life (eremitic, monastic, mendicant, apostolic, and secu-lar) have borne testimony to the presence of the Spirit in the church and have adorned the bride for her Spouse (§46). The final paragraph recognized the celebration of the synod as calling those professing the evangelical counsels to a more intense living of the graces they have received in order that Christ may be more present for the unity and salvation of all people (§47). The conclusion to the Instrumentum (§111) is significantly shorter. The synod is viewed as a moment of grace for conse-crated persons, particularly coming at the threshold of the third millennium since the incarnation of the Word. It calls conse-crated persons to a renewal of the four fidelities articulated in "Religious and Human Promotion": (1) fidelity to Christ and the gospel; (2) fidelity to the church and her mission; (3) fidelity to consecrated life and one's particular charism; (4) fidelity to the person and our age (§111).9 Since these four fidelities sum up the whole of consecrated life, the challenge to those living the evangelical counsels to recommit themselves to them seems a fitting conclusion to the Instrumentum laboris. Consecrated life, particular church-approved way of life that it is, is an intense response to one's baptismal commitment to follow Christ. Highlighting only a few of the more significant revisions, this article has attempted to demonstrate how constructively the worldwide consultation affected the reworking of the Lineamenta as it was becoming the Instrumentum that would guide the recent synod's discussion. The modifications contributed to the supe-rior quality of the Instrumentum in comparison with the Lineamenta. The assembly of bishops is presented in a listening stance towards consecrated persons and the rest of the Christian faith-ful; the synod is at one with the entire church in its reflection on consecrated life. The bishops acknowledge the efforts of insti-tutes of consecrated life and their members in meeting the chal-lenges in today's church and society. Likewise, they share the concerns of consecrated persons during this time of significant transition. The Instrumentum roots consecrated life firmly within March-AgrHl 1995 189 McDermott ¯ Tbe Fruits of Consultation the mystery of Christ and the ecclesial community; it identifies the living of the counsels as a participation in the church's prophetic, priestly, and kingly mission. Present-day experiences and apos-tolates of members of apostolic institutes of consecrated life inspire and give impetus to section 4 of the lnstrumentum on the participation of consecrated life in the mission of the church. And, finally, those consecrated through the profession of the coun-sels are called to a recommitment to the four fidelities that con-stitute their very existence. Pope Paul VI instituted the synod of bishops at the begin-ning of the fourth session of the council on 15 September 1965.1° One of the reasons for the establishment of this central consul-tative organ was to ensure that direct and real information would be provided to the Apostolic See on issues integral to the church and its mission. This purpose seems to have been accomplished. The consultative process assisted in the production of a working paper of high quality that reflected not only the teachings of the church on consecrated life, but also the experience of this Christian vocation throughout the world. The working paper seemed a most effective instrument in directing synodal discus-sions on "Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World." Moreover, this Inst~tmentum, along with the synod's brief final message, is a source of encouragement for the whole church, particularly its members professing the evangelical counsels, as they await Pope John Paul's apostolic exhortation. Notes ~ Synodus Episcoporum IX Coetu~ Generalis Ordinarius, De Vita Consecrata deque Eius Munere in Ecclesia et in Mundo Lineamenta (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1992). The English translation of the Lineamenta can be found in Origins 22, no. 26 (10 December 1992): 433 and 435-454. Subsequent references, to paragraphs, will be placed in parentheses within the text. 2 Synodus Episcoporum IX Coetus Generalis Ordinarius, De Vita Consecrata deque Eius Munere in Ecclesia et in Mundo lnstrumentum Laboris (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1994). The English translation of the Instrumentum laboris can be found in Origins 24, no. 7 (30 June 1994): 97 and 99-138. Subsequent references, to paragraphs, will be placed in parentheses within the text. 3 Rose McDermott SSJ, "Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World: The Lineamenta for the 1994 Synod of Bishops," The Jurist 53, no. 2 (1993): 242. 190 Review for Religious 4 Gilles Cusson, "Attentes des religieux et des religieuses a l'approche du synode sur la vie religieuse," Vie consacrde 65 (1993): 228. s McDermott, "Consecrated Life," 250-251. 6 Instrumentum laboris, §§4 and 39. 7 Andrea Boni, Vangelo e Vita Religiosa (Rilettura teologica e storico-giuridica dellefonti) (Rome: Pontificium Athenaeum Antonianum, 1994), p. 154. 8 S.C.R.S.I., "Directives for Mutual Relations between Bishops and Religious in the Church," in Vatican Council H: More Post Conciliar Documents, ed. Austin Flannery OP (Northport: Costello Publishing Company, 1975), pp. 209-243. 9 S.C.R.S.I., "Religious and Human Advancement," in Flannery (ed.), Vatican, as in note 8, pp. 260-284. 10 Paul VI, Motu proprio Apostolica sollicitudo, 15 September 1965, in Canon Law Digest, vol. 6, pp. 388-411. Mary, Easter Morning Jesus, my Son! Jesus, my Son! Splendidly shining, silvered in lightnings! Here let me hold, hard to my heart, My beautiful Son, my blessed Redeemer! Sad though my heart, hope was my mainstay, Whilst grievously tattered, torn and sore wounded, Livid and lifeless, low wast thou laid. Now all is brightness, blissful and blithesome, Gold-fingered dawning, glorious day! For, scornful of death, defying the tomb, Them thou defeated. Thus thou appearest Jeweled with radiance, gemmed and resplendent, Triumphant in glory, my God and my Son! Mary Albertus Mathis RSM March-April 199~ 191 KEVIN RICHTER Ash Wednesday and Faith's Grounding Before anything else I want to say what is most impor-tant: We are an Easter people. This fact is clearly pre-sumed in every Christian liturgy. We are a people that believes that the resurrection of Jesus from the dead is life-giving for us. The kingdom is present; as kingdom people we await the fullness, the completion, of that king-dom. This is our context, our situation. Nothing mean-ingful could be said about Ash Wednesday and Lent without this Easter event being understood and accepted as their "source and summit." In an image adapted from T.S. Eliot, our life is a series of circles in which the end always comes back to the begin-ning and comes to know it as if "for the first time." The season of Lent is this ending which reminds us of Easter's new beginning, renews our participation in it, and pre-pares us for a deeper living of it. Ash Wednesday, then, could be called the beginning of the end. "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return" (Gn 3:19). These familiar words speak to us from the liturgy of this day as we are being marked with ashes. I have always liked these words, first of all for their abrupt-ness that matches the action, signaling a very deliberate Kevin Richter, a priest of the Sioux City diocese, currently serves as associate pastor of St. Mary parish in Remsen and as a spiritual director of the St. Mary school system. His address is St. Mary Parish; Rernsen, Iowa 51050. 192 Review for Religious and clear entrance into the Lenten season. We are visibly marked--an invitation out of the ambiguity of our life's direction into the truth seeking of the kingdom. When we receive the invi-tation, we are inflamed; when we willingly respond, we become ashes. Thus, my second reason for liking these words is that they "ground" us, both literally and figuratively. We are reminded of our earthiness. We are "humus," earth. Our lit-eral "humility" comes to the fore. We are called down from the loftiness of our ideas and our ,activities into the soil of our lives to become rooted again. There is great potential here for rediscovering rootedness in a world that is often experienced as hav-ing no roots. It is here, in the ground of our being, that we can reconnect with our innermost self, our deepest self, if and when we allow all things that are of our making to die. All of our idols--ideas, opinions, projects, activities, possessions-- come to rest with us in the dust of the earth. But, once again, coming to this place makes sense only if we are fully cognizant of the fact that it was into the dust of the earth that Yahweh blew the breath of life (see Gn 2:7). This is a place of promise, of hope, and of new life. God is stirred to "concern for his land" and takes "pity on his people" (J1 2:18).1 These things are understood in the light of the Easter event. The image of entering into our earthiness is an easy one for me, coming from a rural culture as I do. Each fall I watch the farmers bring in the harvest of the field. In the process they leave behind the "trash"--the chopped-up leaves, stalks, and corncobs-- to be plowed under and into the soil. This trash, transformed to humus, adds to the richness of the soil and prepares for a more abundant harvest in future years. So it is with us. Our entrance into earthiness is an invitation to let go of our own trash: to let go of our controlling nature, to let go of the conception of ourselves as self-sustained and self-contained, to let go of our diversions and distractions. When we explore the trash of our lives and begin to be able to let it go, it When we explore the trash of our lives and begin to be able to let it go, it becomes humus for fertilizer for a life of greater fruitfulness. March-April 1995 193 Richter ¯ Ash Wednesday and Faith's Grounding becomes humus for us--fertilizer for a life of greater fruitfulness. Through this action we return to the Lord with our "whole heart" (J12:12). This is an invitation to a simplicity of life that renews our focus on the reality of the circle, our movements to and from the Easter event. This is an invitation to recognize our being in the presence of God, who is the breath of life. The season of Lent, then, is not an entrance into the barren land that we have sometimes thought it to be. Rather, it is an entrance into a land that will produce much fruit. This day and this season are made holy by our actions of self-denial. If we embrace "the discipline of Lent," we are assured, we will find it to be not a place of desolation, but a deposit of richness waiting to give life and light. To embrace this discipline, to stand .true to the mark we have received on this day, takes great courage. It involves a willing-ness to look directly into the shadows and dark places of our lives. But I believe courage is given in proportion to our faith. The more deeply we come to believe in the light of the Easter event, the more courageous we become in exploring the darknesses of our lives. Each year, as we are given the grace, to enter more deeply into our personal experience of Easter, we also are given the grace of a "steadfast spirit" to enter more deeply into the darkness that is the 'ground of our being. In this way the circle of the Easter event has a spiraling effect that moves us into ever deeper levels of truth. So, what is the discipline of Lent? In the traditional language of the liturgy, it is a discipline of repentance and reconciliation. Of what are we repenting? Our project of building up our own self to the exclusion of God. To what are we being reconciled? Our deepest self, rooted intimately and infinitely in God. For we are to "become the very holiness of God," a grace that is not to be received "in vain" (2 Co 5:21 and 6:1). This is the project of a lifetime that is entered anew each year. In the antiseptic language of the day, the discipline of Lent is a project of "assessment and evaluation." It is a time for "taking stock of our priorities," for "clarifying objectives and setting goals." For Christians, however, this human effort, this "self-help project," is not an end in itself; it is the means to a greater end: becoming Easter people. In order to do this, we would do well to eliminate distrac-tions and clutter that keep us from living a simple and focused 194 Review for Religious life. Thus, "giving things up for Lent" is encouraged, provided that the things given up help us become Easter people. With a simple lifestyle we can begin to turn our hearts to their "ground-ing" in God. Likewise; "taking things on for Lent" is encouraged, provided that the things taken on help us become Easter people. Whatever we choose to do or not to do during this season should serve the purpose of reinserting us into this rhythm of life, the cycle of our participation in the growing kingdom of God. Something must be said here about the communal dimension of our participation in this growing, kingdom. Our action should not be thought of as a private action simply for our own personal benefit. Our liturgy, it may be noted, makes no provision for the distribution of ashes outside of the community celebration. We have been marked as a people, not as individuals. The mark of this day is given to everyone in the community, reminding us that we together form one "earth" and that the breath of each of us is from the one God. There can be no division here, no holding one's self apart, for then our land would become desolate and our life barren. We seek life, a life that produces abundant fruit. Ash Wednesday ushers us into a season in which we seek to realize ourselves as ,holy ground" (see Ex 3:5). We prepare the soil of our lives by hard work---the sweat of our brow (see Gn 3:19). Our motivation for doing this work must be the knowledge that we are an Easter people. God's seed is planted intimately and infinitely within our "holy ground." Note ~ Various scriptural and other wordings used herein are from the Ash Wednesday liturgy. March-April 1995 195 ERIK RIECHERS The Elusive Reality of Church Renewal ~atiS a delightful thing to gather together with other believers nd ponder the gospel call to service and mission. Over and over again we have done exactly this in the years since Vatican Council II. Yet many members of the church have grown weary of the tedious deliberations and often angry exchanges that have marked our search for what is needed to bring about church renewal. We have been forced to acknowledge thirty years after the council that the renewal of the church is a far more daunting task than we imagined, one that cannot be well undertaken with-out serious efforts on. the part of all members of the church, laity and clergy, men and women, young and old. Today we realize that our commitment to the church occurs within the stress all of us feel as we find ourselves hurtling along towards the next millennium. We do not have the luxury of stop-ping and quietly reflecting on the next step in our course of action. It is folly to think of preparing for a storm that awaits us. We are already in the throes of that storm. That being said, what does it mean to speak of commitment to the church? Ready answers trip from the tongue, but leave us all just a little cold because they are but repetitions of the party line. Therein lies the nub of our problem. We are focused on Erik Riechers SAC, a member of the Pallottine Secretariat on Apostolate in Rome, serves as the director of the Regional Faith Enrichment Center in Red Deer, Alberta. This article flows from the keynote address at the Church 2000 Archdiocesan Pastoral Assembly in Edmonton, Alberta. His address is 6 McMillan Avenue; Red Deer, Alberta T4N 5X8; Canada. 196 Review for Religious "activities" that express our commitment. Going to Mass, cele-brating the sacraments, attentiveness to the word of God in scrip-ture- study groups, missionary projects, ministerial formation, and community building: all of these are certainly part and parcel of our commitment to Jesus and his church. It was a mistake, how-ever, to believe that this would suffice to renew the church in the spirit of Vatican II. Too often we have acted as if all of these activities would end up creating a new commitment, when in fact they can never be more than the expression of it. Because people have not noticed ¯ this false identification of activity with commitment, it has become possible for all segments of the church to fight for control of structures and activi-ties. Together in this false indentifi-cation, left and right, liberal and conservative, have truly been in col-lusion (see Margaret O'Brien Steinfels, America, 2 May 1992) while quarreling endlessly about which activities must be front and center and which ones must be swiftly and defini-tively relegated to the back benches. The question of the moti-vation behind the activity is forgottenas we place all our faith in a new process, method, or structure. Obviously something must accompany structural renewal in the church. At the heart of all our commitments lie our attitudes. Our thoughts and feelings towards people and organizations deter-mine our willingness to commit ourselves to them. In some fash-ion we must discover value and worth in others before we are willing to invest the time, effort, and energy that commitment entails. As we uncover genuine beauty, truth, and goodness in another, we are drawn to commit ourselves to him or her, to insure that nothing will ever separate us. The process then begins in which we select our priorities, sift our lives, and remove the chaff in order to strengthen the commitment. We make real changes of lifestyle and behavior. We discard some old attitudes. Whenever we are truly committed, we are willing to appraise our thoughts and perceptions and, if necessary, alter them for the sake of that Our thoughts and feelings towards people and organizations determine our willingness to commit ourselves to them. March-April 199Y 197 Riecbers ¯ The Elusive Reality of Church Renewal to which we are committed. Some of our previous options will not remain intact, for they will be found to be in contradiction with our new commitment and incapable of existing in har.mony with it. Commitment means focus. Focus means concentration, intensity, direction, and clarity, but it also means freely chosen limitations, defined contours, and real surrender. If we would speak of our commitment to the church, we must seriously consider the nature of commitment. Eager as we have been to discard structures, systems, and style~ in our faith com-munities and to adopt new methods, means, and maneuvers, we have failed to realize that, for a renewal of our commitment to the church, what is most needed is an overhaul of our attitudes. Reform in the church has often been brilliantly conceived but abysmally executed. We are like landlords who have seen our apartment ruined by careless and thoughtless tenants. So we evict them, tear down the old lodgings as not worth repairing, con-struct luxury accommodations on the site, and then promptly invite all the old tenants to move back in, without changing their attitude towards our property. In the church we have often pro-vided a new backdrop for the same old prereform attitudes. Our challenge is to change our attitudes towards the dwelling place of God, the temple of the Spirit. If we are committed to the church, we will display the readiness to revisit our attitudes, thoughts, biases, and ecclesial conditioning and alter, discard, or rework anything that hinders the coming of the kingdom. I cannot offer an exhaustive list of new attitudes for genuine reform, but I shall sketch out four attitudes that the modern church stands in need of: (1) an abiding trust in the kingdom, (2) a willingness to deal with complexity and tension as part of eccle-sial existence, (3) a searching desire for inclusivity, and (4) a readi-ness to seek the mysterious God in the daily experience of modern life. An Abiding Trust in the Kingdom This attitude stands in direct contradiction to resignation a]ad despair. Both of these attitudes are far too common in the church. Paul M. Zulehner, a professor of pastoral theology at the University of Vienna, describes the situation very vividly in his bool¢ Wider die Resignation in der Kirche (Against Resignation in the Church). People are annoyed and irritated with the power poli- 198 Review for Religious tics played in the church, especially in their parishes. There is a growing disillusionment at the lack of openness in the church as major problems and cries for understanding are swept under the carpet or ignored, instead of being looked at openly with a will-ingness to listen to the needs of the people of God. All kinds of factions complain about the reforms of Vatican II, some com-plaining that the pace is too slow, some that it is too swift, and some that the attempt at reform has been piecemeal at best. Others complain that there is a lack of compassion towards such intraecclesial minorities as the divorced, homosexuals, and women seeking ministerial equality. Yet others think there is too much compassion towards these same groups. Great numbers feel despair or numb resignation at the sight of empty pews and the exodus of youth. The only antidote for this is an abiding trust in the kingdom. Cardinal Martini of Milan makes this point in his book Von seinem Geist getrieben, reminding the church of the true goal and nature of the church, namely, Jesus and the kingdom. We have forgotten this or have been distracted from it by the daily grind of our lives and by the many insignificant and peripheral things that are part of everyday life in the church. We have introduced changes at times, making the church a social agency or an institution for the advocacy of human rights. At other times we have acted as if the need was to spoon-feed people with spirituality. Martini points out that two activities are essentially true to the nature of the church and require our urgent attention. He finds one of them in Acts 20:20-21, 27, and 31: "You know how I did not shrink from declaring to you anything that was profitable, and teaching you in public and from house to house, testifying both to Jews and to Greeks of repentance to God and of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ . For I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God . Therefore be alert, remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish every one with tears." From this passage Martini draws out the goal of the church in its pastoral activity, namely, to be ceaseless and tireless in it, drawing strength from the Spirit who prompts it to speak, plead, admonish, intercede, and pro-claim. It is not success, but tireless effort for the kingdom, that Paul claims as the glory of the church. Then Martini looks at Acts 2:42: "They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of the March-April 199Y 199 Riecbers ¯ The Elusive Reality of Church Renewal In the midst of pessimism and despair, where do we give witness to God breaking into the human story? Where is the authentic hope that such a God and his kingdom would bring? bread and the prayers." Here he draws attention to the church achieving its purpose in the apostolic teaching and fellowship, Eucharist and sacramental life, a rich liturgical and prayer life. When it is true to these matters, it is true to its nature and essence. Both of these elements are of critical importance for a people that has an abiding trust in the kingdom, for they speak of the reality of God's command of our situation rather than the need for us to try to control all of life. They are a rebuke to the prophets of doom from both sides who seem to have forgotten that God is still run-ning this show. Much of our challenge to change lies right here. We are constantly deluged with com-plaint from prophets of doom of every faction in the church: Everything is in decline, every-thing getting worse! More crime, violence, and blood-shed, less respect, kindness, and neighborliness! Politicians are more corrupt, economies weaker, and leaders less inspir-ing. Hand in hand with this endless litany of despair is a deep pessimism about our future, our fellow human beings, and our ability to improve matters. But where does our faith in the kingdom enter into this chaotic mess? In the midst of pessimism and despair, where do we give witness to God breaking into the human story? Where is the authentic hope that such a God and his kingdom would bring? Like the parable of the seed growing while the farmer is unaware, we are called to live as church with our action and response dic-tated by the kingdom. We are called to action. We do what we can. We plant seeds and then hope and pray for their fruition. The seeds we plant in God's name grow while we are unaware. We often see nothing at all. There appears to be no growth, no progress, no development. Then suddenly the harvest is surpris- 200 Review for Religious ingly apparent, far beyond our expectations--so much for prophets of doom! Belief in their message of inevitable decline is a subtle but clear refusal to believe in the unstoppable coming and growth of the kingdom. In its place we must announce our faith in the powerful coming of the kingdom of God, a kingdom more powerful than all the evil and deterioration we confront in our Christian lives. The Willingness to Deal with Complexity and Tension This attitude stands in contradiction to fundamentalism, which avoids complexity by reducing everything to simple and clear-cut propositions. Yet life is complex and full of nuances that are demanding and time consuming. Since there is no easy way to sort out the many facets of today's issues and since the resulting weariness often makes us reluctant to deal with matters at hand, fundamentalism proposes reducing everything to a series of sim-ple truths. As tempting as this often is to all of us, as relieving as it might be to fall back on overly simple answers, we usually seek such a fundamentalism only when dealing with others and are horrified when others treat us in the same way. Who of us would gladly accept an unnuanced approach to our lives? Who of us wants our life to be dealt with by being reduced to a few simple truths that omit many relevant details? Instead, we insist on nuances, on pointing out the many little things about us that are not so obvi-ous to others. We feel unloved until we are dealt with as a total-ity. We are deeply hurt when others refuse to recognize and deal with our complexity. If we are unwilling to deal with the complexity of issues in the community of faith, we behave in a sim!larly unloving way-- from the need we feel for relevance and success. Relevance insists tha.t everything be clear, that there be a determined purpose and definite means to achieve it. When issues are clouded or uncer-tain and when a distinct and manageable solution cannot be found, we deem the issues irrelevant. If we cannot state the purpose of something, cannot show the inner logic or demonstrate the ratio-nale, then the matter is irrelevant. We buy into this heresy. Our question is not relevance, but simply: Is it loving? Henri Nouwen warns of the temptation of rel-evance in his book In the Name of Jesus. After describing the drive March-April 199Y 201 Riecbers ¯ The Elusive Reality of Church Renewal There is an amazing willingness to segregate, isolate, and separate those we do not understand or cannot agree with. for relevance in our society and the lack of interest or need for the spiritual answers to the pragmatic problems of our world, Nouwen goes on to write: "In this climate of secularization, Christian lead-ers feel less and less relevant and more and more marginal. Many begin to wonder why they should stay in the ministry. Often they leave, develop a new competency, and join their contemporaries in their attempts to make relevant contributions to a better world. But there is a completely different story to tell. Beneath all the great accomplishments of our time, there is a deep current of despair. While efficiency and control are the great aspirations of our society, loneliness, isolation, lack of friend-ship and intimacy, broken relation-ships, boredom, feelings of emptiness and depression, and a deep sense of uselessness fill the hearts of millions of people in our success-oriented world" (pp. 20-21). Relevance alone is but another way of avoiding the complexity of a world that never can be reduced to the merely efficient and successful. Success is another way by which we circumvent the need to deal with complexity in our church. By reduc-ing everything to the question of success and the measurement thereof, we have done violence to life itself. There is more to life than success. But it is difficult to convince people that success is an idol, even though thousands and thousands practically adore the successful and venerate their achievement. Can success be an idol, they think, if good and decent people aspire after it and dream of it? For many of us, success is everything. The successful peer out at us in every mag-azine and TV program. Few seem to be interested in those who gave it "the old college try," but failed to walk away with the tro-phy. The danger has been going unnoticed while we kept applying the criteria of success to our faith lives and communities as well. We felt that faith and community must lead to achievement; there 202 Review for Religious must be something to show for it in the end; success stories must be written, goals must be attained, and trophies must be won. St. Paul does not approve of this way of thinking. Run the race to the finish, yes; fight the good fight, yes. But he does not say that he won the race or the fight. He makes it clear that he continues to strain forward and not quit the struggle. Paul changes the crite-ria: not success, but striving. Success is not one of the names of God. To struggle is to love. Jesus himself teaches us this in the parable of the pharisee and the tax collector. He points out that the tax collector struggles, keeps fighting to be good. The pharisee is conscious only of suc-cess, of his list of achievements, becoming so proud of success that he thinks he can stop running the race. He is not justified because he has not loved enough to struggle for humility, to see the tax collector as his brother, to recognize his dependence upon God. As a community of faith, we must call to mind that we strug-gle only for what we love. We human beings make no effort for what we consider unimportant, insignificant. We do not invest in what leaves us indifferent or cold. We demonstrate no will-ingness to put out for what does not touch us. Only what we love awakens in us the willingness to struggle, and it is the struggle of another for us that puts to rest the notion that success alone is important. In fact, struggle met with failure often speaks more eloquently of the love given us than success that was achieved effortlessly. We need only think of people's valiant struggles to deal with adolescent problems, marriage difficulties, and the com-munity's weaknesses and foibles to know this truth. The Searching Desire for Inclusivity Here we are faced with an attitude that resists the individu-alism and polarization of modern community, a polarization that Paul Zulehner claims has exacted a very high price. People have moved on to other things, sought out places where they could feel at home. The official representatives of the church are often distant from the reality of the people in the pews. There is a sense that they do not understand the struggle of many parts of the church (such as the youth, women, and the laity). There is little or no sharing in leadership issues or in choice of leaders, no dia-logue between leadership and people. As a result, people can no Marcb-April 1995 203 Riechers ¯ The Elusive Reality of Church Renewal longer easily see the presence of Jesus. The phenomenal success of Joseph Girzone's Joshua series speaks of this loss of trans-parency. Few things are transparent. Processes in the church are secretive and incomprehensible. The consequence is polarization, with each group racing to achieve its own agenda or place it at the top of the church's list of things to do. All of these things are the result of a lack of inclusivity. There is an amazing willingness to segregate, isolate, and separate those we do not understand or cannot agree with. There is a remarkable readiness simply to rid ourselves of pesky people. We watch with considerable indifference as some of the people walk away, and we are rather glad that we no longer have to deal with their trou-blesome issues and pains. Instead we must strive for a greater inclusivity, as befits a peo-ple of the kingdom. Jesus practices a greater inclusivity by whom he invites to the table of fellowship. Paul emphasizes this divinely rooted inclusivity in the stirring words of Galatians: "There can be neither Jew nor Greek, there can be neither slave nor free-man, there can be neither male nor female--for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Ga 4:28). To recapture inclusivity, there must be a return to the practice of mutual complementarity as expressed with such brilliance in the Pauline image of the Body of Christ. We must move even deeper and return, in the words of Bruno Forte, to the trinitarian homeland of the faith and realize that the church is the icon of the Trinity, not a mere corporate recog-nition of the Trinity, but an efficacious expression of it. A trinitarian love dynamic entails a move from union to indi-viduality and back, with each person a giver and receiver at the same time and each spontaneously and freely taking the initia-tive in loving. Forte reminds us of this trinitarian rootedness of the church: "Coming from above, springing forth from the Trinity, the church is also structured after the image of the Trinity--one in diversity, communion of different charisms and ministries brought about by one Spirit, the church lives by that circulation of love of which trinitarian life is, besides its source, the incomparable model" (The Trinity as History, p. 207). Herein lies for us the anti-dote for a polarized church: to form communion rooted in the life of the Trinity. Jeffrey Imbach, in his book The Recovery of Love, makes the same point: "Love in the Trinity is both the passion to be One and the passion to be Unique . The exchange of love in the Trinity 204 Review for Religious is neither the embrace of a union so total that there is no dis-tinction left, nor is it the celebration of separate persons. It is both, and both simultaneously, each flowing out of the other . The quintessence of spiritual experience is to enter as deeply as possi-ble into the simultaneous flowing of love between Unity and Plurality, between losing oneself in Union, bursting forth into fruitful uniqueness and losing ourselves again in union" (pp. 78-79). Readiness to Seek the Mysterious God in the Daily Experience of Modem Life There remain among us great illusions that only the old ways will do, even long after the opposite is painfully obvious in the church. We cling to the forms as if they could save us: Roman collars, the liturgical use of Latin, or Communion on the tongue. As a result, a great gap between modern human experience and the language and imagery of the church has developed. A new lan-guage is needed, a new way of speaking about God. Terminology can never be allowed to become more important than communi-cation. Langdon Gilkey's influential work has reminded us that revelation uses whatever history offers as a medium of commu-nication. Innovative ministries exist, but they create furor when they do not match what came before. In many ways we seem totally foreign to the world around us. While many have deemed this to be a positive sign of our distinctiveness from the world or our unwillingness to stray from the tradition, it is in fact rooted in a distressing lack of faith. The moment we refuse to adapt, we are claiming that God has .spoken once, in one way and one form. There is no room for God to maneuver. Such an attitude betrays an underlying unwillingness to believe that God could work through new people, styles, places, and means. It is an arbitrary and ahistoricalapproach to the real-ity of the church. We would do well to heed St. Vincent Pallotti's reminder. "Seek God and you will find him. Seek him in all things and you will find him in all things. Seek-him always and you will find him always." There is so much to be done, but we are afraid to do it. There is always an excuse in the church for not acting: "People are not ready, they will not accept new attitudes . . . it will upset people and we will be misunderstood and maligned., it is only a drop in the bucket., we cannot change it all." We are, of course, not March-April 1995 205 Riechers ¯ The Elusive Reality of Church Renewal called to change it all. We are called to live church well wher-ever we stand: parish, diocesan commission, school, office, or meeting room. We all wish to receive love, yet few wish to initiate its giving-- from an inaccurate perception of the way of love. Giving and receiving do not stand opposed. Through God's grace we can give love and receive it in one fluid motion, but this happens only when we trust more in God's revealed love in Jesus Christ than in any model we ourselves may come up with. St. Vincent Pallotti offers us a fine prayer to remind us of this God-centered reality we so badly need: "By myself I can do nothing. With God I can do everything. Out of love for God I will do all. Give honor to God." Compassion 0 healing Christ, look with your pity's gentleness into the old-wise eyes of the child who has tasted suffering too soon. Grace with your sweetness the endurance of such pain that leaves these little ones, your companions to Calvary, no strength to complain. Judith Powell 206 Review for Religious : ROBERT P. MALONEY Providence Revisited Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on! . . . Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene--one step enough for me. --John Henry Newman Saints like St. Vincent de Paul speak of providence with great conviction. They see God's plan at work every-where. They invoke providence to encourage those who find themselves groping in the darkness, to strengthen those experiencing pain,' to slow down the hasty, to pro-mote initiative in those planning the future. This essay will (1) analyze the idea of providence in the spoken words, writings, and life of St. Vincent (1581-1660), who founded the Congregation of the Mission and the Daughters of Charity; (2) will describe some fundamental shifts that have taken place in thinking between the 17th and 20th centuries; and (3) will "revisit!' providence today. Providence in St. Vincent de Paul It is utterly clear, as one tea& St. Vincent, how impor-tant a role providence plays for him. At times his words are eloquent. He writes to Jean Barreau, the French consul in Algiers: "We cannot better assure our eternal happi- Robert P. Maloney CM serves as superior general of the Congregation of the Mission (Vincentian Fathers and Brothers). His address is Congregazione della Missione; Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Rome, Italy. March-April 1995 207 Maloney ¯ Providence Revisited ness than by living and dying in the service of the poor, in the arms of providence, and with genuine renouncement of ourselves in order to follow Jesus Christ" (SVIII, 392).~ Vincent offers no systematic philosophical or theological anal-ysis of providence. But the documents we possess, especially his letters, written for particular occasions and for individuals whose personalities were quite varied, give us considerable insight into how he understood it. God has a hidden plan which works consistently for good. We owe some of Vincent's most striking statements on prov-idence to St. Louise de Marillac, who joined with him in found- ¯ ing the Daughters of Charity. As she struggled, particularly in the upbringing of her son Michel, she disclosed her pain to Vincent. He encouraged her to do her best, to be at peace, and to place the rest in God's hands. In 1629 he writes: "I wish you good evening and hope that you are no longer weeping over the hap-piness of your little Michel . Mon Dieu, my daughter, what great hidden treasures there are in holy providence and how mar-velously our Lord is honored by those who follow it aitd do not try to get ahead of i!!" (SVI, 68). The need to follow providence comes up again and again as Vincent writes to various confreres durin~ his lengthy negotiations to get the vows of the Congregation of the Mission approved and to acquire a residence in Rome. In 1640 he tells Louis Lebreton, who was encountering obstacles in trying to get a house for the Congregation: "I know that nothing can be added to your dili-gence and that this [situation] is not due to you personally, neither to your zeal nor your handling of the matter. Our Lord has given you both and is directing this matter according to the order of his eternal providence. Be assured, Monsieur, that you will see in this situation that it is for the best, and I think I can already see it as clearly as the light of day. Oh, Monsieur, how good it is to let oneself be guided by his providence!" (SVII, 137). Vincent appeals to God's hidden plan in many varied cir-cumstances: to explain the surprising success of the works he has started, to console the Company when speaking of the sickness or death of missionaries, to encourage those who have lost their par-ents, to find meaning in the sudden departure of missionaries or Daughters of Charity from the Company, to urge the Company to accept calumny and persecution with courage,z 208 Review for Religious He is so convinced of how important it is that the Daughters of Charity be led by providence that he even imagines their being called Daughters of Providence: "Oh, my Daughters, you should have such great devotion to, such great confidence and love in, divine providence that, if providence itself had not given you the beautiful name of Daughters of Charity, you should bear that of Daughters of Providence, for it was providence that brought you into being.''3 Grace has its moments; God's plan will be revealed to those who wait peace-fully and patiently. This theme comes through very strongly in Vincent's letters to the impetuous Bernard Codoing, the superior in Rome, who often aroused the founder's ire by mov-ing too quickly or too brusquely. After rebuking Codoing rather sharply in a letter written on 7 December 1641 and after telling him to act with greater delibera-tion, Vincent adds: "Reflecting on all the principal events that have taken place in this Company, it seems to me, and this is quite evi-dent, that, if they had taken place before they did, they would not have been successful. I say that of all of them, without except-ing a single one. That is why I have a particular devotion to fol-lowing the adorable providence of God step by step. And my only consolation is that I think our Lord alone has carried on and is constantly carrying on the business of the Little Company" (SV II, 208). On 16 March 1644 Vincent reprimands Codoing for interfering in matters that are not his concern, urges him to attend to his own affairs, and reminds him that providence will take care of the rest. "Grace has its moments," he tells him (SVII, 453). In Vincent's writings, there is a clear tension between activ-ity and passivity. His attitude depended greatly on the circum-stances. For instance, in trying to moderate the indiscreet zeal of Philippe le Vacher, he urges passivity: "The good that God wishes Vincent is so convinced of how important it is that the Daughters of Charity be led by providence that he even imagines their being called Daughters of Providence. March-April 1995 209 Maloney * Providence Revisited The close link between doing the will of God and following providence is a recurrent theme in Vincent's letters. to be done comes about almost by itself, without our thinking about it. That is the way that the congregation was born, that the missions and the retreats to ordinands began, that the Company of the Daughters of Charity came into being . Mon Dieu! Monsieur, how I desire that you would moderate your ardor and weigh things maturely on the scale of the sanctuary before resolving them! Be passive rather than active. In that way God will do through you alone what the whole world together could not do without him" (SVIV, 122- 123). He often emphasizes this theme to Louise de Marillac, encouraging her to be patient in awaiting the action of God.4 In all this it is quite evident that Vincent abhorred rushing. He tells oth-ers that "God's spirit is neither violent nor hasty," "his works have their moment," they are done "almost by themselves," they are accomplished "little by little." He tells Codoing, "If necessity urges us to make haste, then let it be slowly, as the wise proverb says.''5 But there is also another side to Vincent's teaching. We are God's coworkers, so we must make haste, even i~slowly. With Etienne Blatiron, the superior in Rome in 1655, Vincent's emphasis shifts subtly as he makes it clear that he is eager for some action: "Do not stop pursuing our business, with confi-dence that it is God's good pleasure . Let us act., in nego-tiating one of the most important affairs that the congregation will ever have" (SVV, 396). The tension between activity and passivity, within Vincent himself is evident in another letter he writes to Etienne Blatiron, 12 November 1655. He comments favorably on a practice that Blatiron has begun of asking, through the intercession of St. Joseph, for the spread of the Company. He adds reflectively: "For twenty years I have not dared to ask that of God, thinking that, since the congregation is his work, we should leave to his provi-dence alone the responsibility for its conservation and its growth. 210 Review for Religious But, struck by the recommendation made to us in the gospel to ask him to send laborers into the harvest, I have become convinced of the importance and usefulness of this devotion.''6 Finally, if we should be tempted to interpret Vincent's teach-ing on providence too passively, we might recall the founder's words to Edme Jolly: "You are one of the few men who honor the providence of God very much by the preparation of reme-dies against foreseen evils, I thank you very humbly for this and pray that our Lord will continue to enlighten you more and more so that such enlightenment may spread through the Company" (SVVII, 310). There is an intimate link, in St. I/Tncent's teaching, between following providence and doing the will of God in all things. One of the early, abiding influences on Vincent's thought is Benedict of Canfield's Rule of Perfection, in which doing the will of God in all things is described as the central element in the spir-itual life.7 From many of the citations above, the reader has already noted how central doing the will of God is for Vincent. In the period of Louise de Marillac's anguish over her son Michel's future, he writes to her about another problem concerning a small infant and then adds: "In any case, God will provide for the child and for your son as well, without your giving way to anxiety about what will become of him. Give the child and the mother to our Lord. He will take good care of you and your son. Just let him do his will in you and in him and await it in all your exercises. All you need do is devote yourself entirely to God. Oh, how little it takes to be very holy: to do the will of God in all things" (8VII, 36). The close link between doing the will of God and following providence is a recurrent theme in Vincent's letters. He writes to Ren~ Almeras on 10 May 1647: "Oh, Monsieur, what a happiness to will nothing but what God wills, to do nothing but what is in accord with the occasion providence presents, and to have noth-ing but what God in his providence has given us!" (SVIII, 188). St. Vincent's teaching on providence rests on two foundation stones: (I) deep confidence in God as a loving father and (2) indifference, that is, detachment from anything that impedes us from "willing only what he wills" (see SVV, 403). Trust in providence is the ability to place oneself in the hands of God as a loving father. "Let us give ourselves to God," Vincent March-April 1995 211 Maloney ¯ Providence Revisited says repeatedly to the Vincentians and to the Daughters of Charity.8 He has deep confidence in God as his Father, into whose hands he can place himself and his works. The journal written by Jean Gicquel recounts how Vincent, on 7 June 1660, just four months before his death, said to Fathers ~klmeras, Berthe, and Gicquel: "To be consumed for God, to have no goods or power except for the purpose of consuming them for God--that is what our Savior did himself, who was consumed for love of his Father" (SVXIII, 179). Vincent wanted love for God to be all-embracing. He writes to Pierre Escart: "I greatly hope we may set about stripping our-selves entirely of affection for anything that is not God, be attached to things only for God and according to God, and that we may seek and establish his kingdom first of all in ourselves and then in others. That is what I entreat you to ask of him for me." (SVII, 106). Vincent is profoundly convinced that, because God loves us deeply as a father, he exercises a continual providence in our lives. He tells the Daughters: "To have confidence in providence means that we should hope that God takes care of those who serve him, as a husband takes care of his wife or a father of his child. That is how--and far more truly--God takes care of us. We have only to abandon ourselves to his guidance, as the Rule says, just as 'a little child does to its nurse.' If she puts it on her right arm, the child is quite content; if she moves him over to her left, he does not care; he is quite satisfied provided he has her breast. We should, then, have the same confidence in divine providence, see-ing that it takes care of all that concerns us, just as a nursing mother takes care of her baby." (SVX, 503). Speaking of the providence which Jesus himself has for his followers, Vincent tells Jean Martin in 1647: "So, Father, let us ask our Lord that everything may be done in accordance with his providence, that our wills be submitted to him in such a way that between him and us there may be only one, which will enable us to enjoy his unique love in time and in eternity" (SVIII, 197). One notes here again the strong influence of Benedict of Canfield on Vincent. Indifference, for Vincent, is detachment from all things that would keep us from God. It sets us free to be united with him, dis-posihg us to will only what he wills. It is indispensably linked with trust in providence. He tells Louise de Marillac how close our 212 Review for Religious Lord is to all who cooperate with his will. He repeats this advice to her again and again: "It is necessary to accept God's way of acting toward yotir Daughters, to offer them to him, and to remain in peace. The Son of God saw his company dispersed and almost wiped out forever. You must unite your will with his.''9 He speaks lyrically to the Daughters of Charity on the theme: "To do the will of God is to begin paradise in this world. Give me a Daughter who does for her whole life the will of God. She begins to do on earth what the blessed do in heaven. She begins her paradise even in this world" (SV IX, 645). Some Horizon Shifts between the 17th and 20th Centuries ¯ The problematic which I have described in my article on the cross applies to providence as well; I will not, therefore, repeat it here.1° A theology of the cross and a theology of providence are closely intertwined. This is evident in the writings of St. Vincent and St. Louise, where the two themes often occur in the same context,li Keeping in mind what has already been stated about the cross, here I will mention only briefly two other factors that influence the way one views providence, namely, two horizon shifts that have taken place between Vincent's time and ours. We have moved from an era which emphasized direct causality to one which focuses on secondary causes and emphasizes the autonomy of the human person. This shift was already taking place in Vincent's time. Today it is very much a part of the air We breathe. In a scientific era one focuses on empirical data. Both well-being and disease are attributed to discernible causes, rather than directly to God. Even when the cause of a diseaseis unknown, we search for it today with the conviction that it will eventually be found. In that con-text, attributing good or evil to God's providence can sometimes sound quaint or occasionally hollow. Even worse, when someone is confronted with serious problems, the exhortation to abandon oneself to provider~ce may run contrary to prudence, which urges us to seek remedies for our ills. Of course, this shift in emphasis is not an entirely new way of looking at things. Catholic moral theology has, in fact, consis-tently placed strong emphasis on the role of secondary causes, March-April 199Y 213 Maloney ¯ Providence Revisited since it has always placed great emphasis on human responsibil-ity. Moreover, Catholic systematic theology, with its stress on mediation, has often similarly accented secondary causes.~2 Particularly since Gaudium et spes, Catholic theology has empha-sized the autonomy of the human person (see GS §§4, 9, 12, 14, 15, 22). One is surely slower today than in Vincent's time to attribute things directly to God when they are more evidently of human doing. We are conscious too that this way of thinking "lets God be God," so to speak. It recognizes his ultimate autonomy, his com-plete otherness. It recognizes too that his causality does not dimin-ish human freedom, but is the ground for it; in fact, dependence on God and genuine human autonomy increase, rather than decrease, in direct proportion to one another.13 God's power does not enslave human beings; it empowers them (see GS §34). In this perspective the human person is seen as being in pro-cess, as incomplete, as openness to the absolute. Change is accepted not only as inevitable, but as desirable. Rapid change, moreover, has become part of life, and its rate seems to be grow-ing exponentially. In an age of computers, we are convinced-that we can "make things happen" and that we can eventually find the solution to almost all problems that arise. There has been a shift from a static way of viewing the world to a his-torical way. The ways in which we view the world, the human person, and God are intimately intertwined. Our view of providence is affected by all of these. Different ways of viewing these realities charac-terize different epochs, but they often also exist simultaneously within the same epoch. Here, let me briefly describe three.~4 In a static understanding, such as prevailed in the 15th and 16th centuries and into Vincent's time, the view of the human person is ahistorical. Society's established orders are accepted as divinely willed. External laws and rules prevail. The political, economic, and social spheres are governed by the established laws. Within this context the emphasis in one's view of God is on the Absolute, the All-Powerful, the Omnipresent, the Omniscient. In speaking of providence one sees God as ruling over all and directing all. Faith in providence takes the form of abandonment and absolute confidence in God's plan, which never fails. As is evident, this perspective has brought rich benefits to the lives of 214 Review for Religious many saints, including Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac, but there is a danger for some that this understanding of God's providence can lead to escapism or lack of responsibility. In a personalist understanding of reality, which has emerged increasingly since the 18th century as the "rights of man" have come to be emphasized, the autonomy and liberty of the human person come to the fore. Human responsibility and creativity are accented. In ethics the emphasis lies on interiorization and conscience. In theology, history and process are highlighted. The church is seen as the Body of Christ. In speaking of God one emphasizes his per-sonal love as Father. In talking about prov-idence, one sees God as guiding us all in our personal histories. God loves us. He walks with us. He leads us. While there are many advantages to this perspective, par-ticularly on the level of conviction about God's love and the need for personal conversion, there is a dan-ger that this understanding of God and providence can fall into "intimism." In a sociohistorical understanding of reality, the emphasis is on ¯ the interrelationship of people within a societal context and the building up of the human family. In ethics social responsibility is highlighted. The transformation of society and sociopolitical real-ity is underlined. Sin too shows up as social.15 There is a call to change unjust social structures. In theology the trinitarian God is emphasized. The church is viewed as the people of God, living in a permanent exodus. When one speaks of providence, one speaks of God as the liberator of his people, freeing them from the bonds of oppression. This perspective has the advantage of moving toward the concrete and fundamental resolution of social problems that keep the poor poor; for some it bears the risk of falling into an activism that loses focus on God's ways. God's power does not enslave human beings; it empowers them. Revisiting Providence Today There is much reexamination of providence today, with a view toward articulating a theology that, while recognizing various levels of causality, accounts for both the rational and irrational March-April 1995 215 Maloney ¯ Providence Revisited within human existence and can find meaning where we experi-ence chaos, disorder, violence, and apathy.16 A theology of prov-idence is at root a theology of meaning. It seeks to bridge the gap between the polarities of human experience: design/chaos, health/sickness, life/death, grace/sin, care/noncare, plan/disrup-tion, peace/violence. Ministers of providence are those men and women whose lives witness to meaning and who can speak mean-ing. Docility to providence is an attitude of reverent trust before the mystery of God as revealed in Christ, in whom life, death, and resurrection are integrated.17 Trust in providence means rootedness in a loving, personal God. Belief in providence shows itself throughout history not so much in credal statements as in the trusting words of daily prayer. It is inseparable from faith in a loving, personal God. The human mind balks at mystery. Yet we encounter it again and again at the base of our deepest joys and our deepest sorrows. Birth, death, beauty, tragedy--all are shrouded in mystery. We continually struggle to reconcile opposites, to plumb the depths of life and death. As early as the 5th century B.C., the Greeks, particularly the Stoics, used the term proT?idence to denote a rational order of things where a divine reason pervades everything. This term enters the Old Testament rather late in the books of Job and Wisdom, where it joins an earlier strain that focuses not so much on a philo-sophical concept of cosmic harmony as on God acting in history. This fundamental Old Testament belief sees God as allied with his people. He is active in creating, covenanting, chastising, forgiv-ing, liberating. He is with his people both in their conquests and in their captivity. He goes with them into exile, and he returns with them. "Can a mother forget her infant, be without tender-ness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you. See, upon the palms of my hands I ha~e written your name" (Is 49:15-16). This provident.God of the Hebrew Scriptures is the God of Jesus Christ. He is the Father whom Jesus loves and who cap-tures his entire attention. Jesus' death and resurrection are the ultimate proclamation of providence. At the heart of New Testament faith is belief in a personal God, who reveals himself as Father in his Son, Jesus, who takes on human flesh. Jesus him-self struggles with the mysteries of life, growth, success, desertion 216 Review for Religious by his followers, pain, and death. He finds the resolution o.f the struggle not in some clearly stated philosophy that he outlines for future ages, but in commending himself into the hands of his Father. He trusts that his Father loves him deeply and that he can bring joy from sorrow, life from death. The New Testament, reflecting on Jesus' experience, tells us again and again to focus on the personal love of God for us. Jesus extols, in a passage that Vincent loved, God's providence for his children: "Consider the lilies of the field. They do not work; they do not spin. Yet I assure you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was arrayed like one of these. If God can clothe in such splendor the grass of the field, which blooms today and is thrown on the fire tomorrow, will he not provide much more for you, O weak in faith.".18 Luke's writings, especially, highlight God's providence.19 The Spirit of the Father and of Jesus is active from the beginning in Luke, guiding the course of history. He anoints Jesus with power from on high and directs him and his dis-ciples in their ministry.2° One of the crucial signs of faith in a personal God is confi-dent prayer. The very act of praying states that we believe that God is alive, that he relates to us, that he listens, that he cares about our journey, that he hears the cries of the poor especially, and that he responds. It is for this reason that Luke's Gospel insists so frequently on trusting, persistent prayer.2~ Docility to providence is an attitude of reverent trust before the mystery of God as revealed in Christ, in whom life, death, and resurrection are integrated. Trust in providence is the ability to hope in God's wisdom and power. Trust in providence implies trust that there is an unseen wis-dom that guides the events of history and that is able to reconcile opposites. We sometimes get glimpses of a larger picture where tragedy works for good. Destructive floods provide fertile land March-April 199Y 217 Maloney ¯ Providence Revisited for the future. Enormous fires ravage forests, doing huge damage, but purifying them for luxuriant growth in the future. Pain and suffering at times mature a person and help him or her to grow in compassion and understanding for others. In a striking Greek myth, the infant Demopho6n is placed in the care of the divine mother Demeter, who caresses him, nurses him, breathes on him, and anoints him with ambrosia. At night she places him in a fire to make him immortal. When his mother dis-covers this, she cries out in fear. But Demeter responds: "You do not know when fate is bringing you something good or some-thing bad!" Demeter is giving a lesson in nursing. She shows that motherhood involves nurturing not only in human ways, but also in divine ways. Holding the child in the fire is a way of burning away those el

Issue 52.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1993. ; rel i gious Christian Heritages and C0mempora~ Living JANUARY-FEBRUARY1993 ,,VOLUME52 ¯ NUMBERi 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 Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Anti Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ S~fin Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JM',/UARY-FEBRUARY 1993 ¯ VOLUME 52 " NUMBER 1 contents 6 feature The Religious Life Futures Project: Executive Summary David J. Nygren CM and Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ provide a summary of "The Future of Religious Orders in the United States" (FORUS), a comprehensive study of the opinions, beliefs, attitudes, and practices of men and women religious. 56 69 growing spiritually A Developmental View of Salesian Spirituality Joann Wolski Conn examines a process of self-knowledge through the lens of the lives of St. Francis de Sales and St. Jane de Chantal. The Cloistered Heart Nancy Shuman provides snapshots of her journey into a heart cloister for finding a union with God. discerning vocation 86 The Transfer and the RCIA: Process and Ritual 102 Kathleen Hughes RSCJ and Barbara Quinn RSCJ draw outlines of development from the RCIA process for the transfer of a religious from one community to another. Vocations among Teaching Brothers Eleace King IHM provides the encouraging results of the CARA study of vocations in teaching brothers communities. 2 Review for Religious 111 119 131 living religious life Internationality: Intentional or Accidental Catherine M. Harmer MMS focuses on the structural aspects necessary for a religious group to be intentionally international. Mission before Mission: God's Mission within Us A. Paul Dominic SJ develops the insight that the mission of individual Christians is one and the same as God's mission in themselves. Talents for Living in Community Melannie Svoboda SND proposes eight "lesser" gifts of personality and attitude which enable people to live more graciously with others. departments 4 Prisms 140 Canonical Counsel: New Communities 147 Book Reviews January-February 1993 3 prisms Anew year ushers in new life. Newspapers in every city vie for the picture of the first baby born in the early moments of a new year. Perhaps all of us need to image ourselves in that picture of a newborn and ask our-selves what kind of fresh life we seek in this year 1993. As we enter into this new gift of time, God's grace con-tinues to be a light to our mind and a strength to our will. In 1993, what light do we seek for our faith, and what strength do we need to live in closer union with our Lord? Review for Religious hopes to focus some light where it will be helpful by highlighting an article in each issue of this new volume. Our present issue is privileged to publish "The Religious Life Futures Project: Executive Summary." David J. Nygren CM and Miriam D. Ukeritis csJ have worked some three years on a major study of religious life and its future in the United States. By means of this arti-cle, they present in a concise and understandable form the conceptual background, methodological considera-tions, research findings, and major implications of their three-year study. Because this article attempts to provide easy entrance to the complete study shortly to be pub-lished in book form, it also gives our readers a ready ref-erence for use with future articles that will either critique assumptions and method or suggest further developments implied in this study. The importance of the study lies especially in the breadth and thoroughness of its col|ection of data, rep-resented in it~ six independent elements: a national survey, leadership studies, a study of caring people and one of visioning groups, individual interviews, and a final theo-logical/ historical monograph. There is no doubt about its timeliness gince the church is now looking forward to the Review for Religious ninth assembly (in 1994) of a worldwide synod of bishops. The theme of the synod is "The consecrated life and its role in the church and in the world." Since bishops, priests, lay people, and religious need to be involved in the preparation and the followup of this and every church synod, Review for Religious hopes to be a channel of grace by bringing to its readers clear informative articles as well as inspiring motivational ones for the ever richer living out of the spiritual heritages found in particular religious families such as the Benedictine or the Franciscan. It is especially crucial that members of the institutes of con-secrated life become active participants in the presynodal reflec-tion. As for the hierarchy, the apostolic pronuncio reminded the assembled bishops of the United States in November 1992 that every bishop has a special responsibility regarding consecrated religious life. Ultimately all active Catholics need to become involved because the church is as healthy as religious life is healthy. For if the Spirit's charismatic structuring of the church, represented in the ever fecund religious-life form, appears to be weakening or becoming attenuated, then the body of the church in all its members suffers. Such an interrelatedness is reflected in the Pauline principle about the Body of Christ, and church history provides the data of its reality. While special articles will highlight this synod preparation, Review for Religious through its usual wide variety of spiritual topics will continue to bring fresh understandings and applica-tions of spiritual legacies to our Christian life. We hope that our readers will find both light and strength for their spiritual growth in 1993 through the contributions of our many authors. I would like to draw your attention to a new name added to the listing of our Advisory Board members. Joann Wolski Conn, with her doctorate in theology, teaches in the Neumann College Graduate Program in Pastoral CounselinF and Spiritual Direction, a program which assists spiritual.directors to use four great tra-ditions (Franciscan, Ignatian, Carmelite, and Salesian) in their ministry. Her books, Women's Spirituality (1986) and Spirituality and Personal Maturity (1989), have been well received. In this very issue our readers will profit from her "Developmental View of Salesian Spirituality." We look forward t6 her contribution to our board discussions and decisions for the good health and progress of this journal. David LI Fleming SJ 37anuary-February 1993 5 DAVID J. NYGREN and MIRIAM D. UKERITIS The Religious Life Futures Project: Executive Summary feature In this Executive Summary we attempt to provide in as concise and understandable a form as possible the conceptual back-ground, methodological considerations, research findings, and major implications of the Religious Life Futures Project. VVe also recognize the range of interests and various needs of the many persons like yourself who bare expressed great interest in reading the results. With that in mind, the following description of the con-tents of the various sections may assist you in selecting the point at which you would prefer to begin your reading. Section I presents the purpose of this research project. Section H provides the theoretical perspective. This includes some background information on the concept of trans-formation as used in studying groups and organizations. It also David J. Nygren CM, an organizational psychologist, and Miriam D. Ukeritis csJ, a clinical psychologist, began work on this three-year study at Boston University in 1989 and completed it at De Paul University in Chicago in 1992. Nygren is now director of the Center for Applied Social Research and assistant professor of organizational psychology at De Paul University. Ukeritis is director of the Institute for Leadership of Religious Organizations at De Paul and a research associate in its Center for Applied Social Research. They may be addressed at De Paul University; Center for Applied Social Research; 2219 North Kenmore Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60614. NOTE. This study in modified form was originally pub-lished in Origins 22, no. 15 (24 September 1992). 6 Review for Religious provides some information on the levels of change (social institution, congregational, and individual) considered in this project. Section III provides a description of each of the six research units and of the methodology for each of them and then offers summary find-ings. Results are presented in terms of the analysis described above. Section IV, "Conclusions: Shaping the Future, "presents the summary conclusions of the entire project. If you are interested in "bot-tom lines, "you may want to start your reading with this section. Some may wonder why we did not present this chapter first. When, in shar-ing our results with some groups, we began by presenting a summary of our findings, we were repeatedly asked, "Where/bow did you reach these conclusions?" Hence, in this executive summary, we begin at the begin-ning and work through to the conclusions. Subsequent publications of the results of this study will refer to these findings as The Future of Religious Orders in the United States (FO~U3). Table of Contents I. Introduction and Purpose .8. II. Theoretical Perspective . 9 A. The Concept of Transformation . 9 B. Levels of Change . 12 III. Research Units . 16 A. National Survey . 17 B. Leadership . 30 C. Visioning Groups . 35 D. Caring People . 38 E. Individual Interviews. . 40 E Theological/Historical Monograph .42 Conclusions: Shaping the Future .42 Acknowledgments . 51 References . 51 Bibliographical Notes . 52 January-February 1993 7 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project I. Introduction and Purpose The 30 years since the Second Vatican Council have been turbu-lent ones for Roman Catholic religious orders in the United States. The average age of the members of many congregations has increased to 67 years, while the number of religious has decreased approximately 45% for brothers and sisters and 27% for religious priests. Sevei'al "traditional" works, have been called into question while other works and other definitions of mission have arisen. The understanding of ways of living the vows ha~ changed substantially within many congregations. The distinction between religious life and the "laity" has also decreased considerably, with many "lay people" now developing some type of formal associa-tion with religious congregations and many religious identifying more clearly with lay people. How can such phenomena, which apply in many congrega-tions and across the traditional distinctioris of religious life (con-templative, monastic, mendicant, and apostolic), be best understood? How do individual religious and congregations expe-rience and understand the changes that have taken place in reli-gious life? What do these changes portend for the future of religious life? And, most important, what changes must yet occur if religious life is to remain a vital gift to the church into the next millennium? These were the questions with which we began the Religious Life Futures Project in 1989. Our own congregations, the Vincentian Fathers and Brothers and the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, are but two of the hundreds of congregations that were seeking to transform their lives, ministries, and institutions. With the support of our respective congregations and with a gen-erous grant from Lilly Endowment, we designed a comprehensive study of religious orders in the United States. Basic Purpose of the Research Our purpose was to examine the changes that are occurring in the experience and the understanding of religious life. To accom-plish this end we embarked upon a project that would have as its outcomes: 1. identification of the norm~ative beliefs about religious life and how they will likely shape the future of religious life in this country. 2. building a national data base of all male and female religious 8 Review for Religious that includes current demographic data, membership informa-tion, existing and emerging structures, current member atti-tudes on multiple dimensions, and projections for the future. enabling the leadership of religious orders to identify the current paradigms of effective management of transformation, consol-idation, merging, or extinction. labeling the changes that must yet occur if religious life is to remain a vital social and theological gift to the church into the next millennium. In this summary we hope to indicate how the lives of 121,000 religious are reflected in the opinions of the more than 10,000 religious priests, sisters, and brothers who took time to share their ideas and beliefs with us through personal interviews, ques-tionnaires, workshops, and written communications. We worked from several assumptions: that only religious can describe their experience of faith as religious; that the sociological data we gath-ered would serve them in their own self-direction; that without significant change religious life in the United States will continue to decline an, d, more important, that those who most need the help of religious will not be cared for; and that the generosity and self-sacrifice still present in the lives of religious must be articulated for others if they are to consider following Jesus in this manner. The study sought the broadest possible input from leader-ship, membership, and those with unique perspectives to offer. These latter were persons identified by their peers as possessing vision about the future of religious life and/or possessing notable caring attributes. This summary combines all the results and shows what, after all these scientific undertakings, we believe will make a difference to individual religious, to the various congre-gations, and to their ministry. II. Theoretical Perspective A. Transformation "Transformation" is perhaps most familiar to Christians in Paul's call to "be transformed into Christ," but the dramatic change undergone by religious orders and organizations has expanded the meaning to include organizational considerations. In the organizational realm it refers to qualitative, discontinuous shifts in members' shared understandings of the organization, accompanied by changes in the organization's mission, strategy, January-February 1993 9 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project and formal and informal structures. In contrast to simple and gradual changes, organizations undergoing tranoCormation come to understand themselves and their: .missioh very differently from their original understanding. Studies of transformation focus on one or another level at which .the change occurs: either the industry or the social insti-tution considered as a whole, or a particular organization, or a part of one (individual persons). In contrast, we investigated issues related to change in religious life on all three levels: Religious life as a whole (the social institution). This inves-tigation revealed that, while congregations may differ in their expression of religious life by virtue of gender or tradition (apostolic, monastic, mendicant, or contem-plative), all groups share broad-based beliefs, attitudes, and behaviors. ¯ The particular congregation (organization), namely, the 816 groups that participated in the survey. This survey investigated the shifting ways in which the groups expe-riencing transformation interpret a shared past, select value priorities, allocate resources, and assess mission opportunities. It also investigated the shifting metaphors and rituals which members use to express their beliefs and which draw them together with a shared sense of belonging. ¯ The individual (126,000 sisters, brothers, and priests). The study investigated the implications of transforma-tion for the individual members of religious congrega-tions. These three approaches enable a more complete understand-ing of how intercongregational, congregational, and individual experiences can affect each other and of how the various types of change can occur. A Model for the Process of Transformational Change Transformation usually begins with a crisis, an awareness that the understandings currently shared by the organization's mem-bers are no longer adequate. Several types of crisis may occur: performance may be poor, leadership transitions occur, some pow-erful subgroups' interests may no longer be served, management practices may no longer be successful, or, most typically, a major environmental shift may.confront the already existing interpretive schemes. The easiest response for the organization to take is to defend itself against the challenge and perhaps not to respond at 10 Review for Religious all. For transformation to begin, the experience of crisis must "unfreeze" the members' present understandings of the organi-zation by presenting a strong enough challenge to their validity. After unfreezing takes place or in conjunction with it, various individuals and groups begin developing alternative understand-ings. These lead to new types of action and most likely to changes in the structures of the organization. Moreover, the new types of actions that take place are likely to occur out-side the organization's traditional boundaries (for example, AT&T's work moved beyond telephones to include computers and other forms of communication as well); bound-aries are likely to break down. There is likely to be considerable conflict among the original and the developing interpretive schemes and the. subgroups espousing them. Groups that hold one particular new perspective, for example, are likely to find themselves in conflict with indi-viduals or groups that espouse the original perspective or a different new one. The conflict may take various forms: one perspective may clearly dominate various other perspectives and may stand aloof from them, or leaders may acknowledge the potential value of, and .thus encourage, interac-tion between several different perspectives. Leaders can have a strong impact on the outcome of the con-flict between perspectives. If they support only one perspective, they are likely to decrease the creativity of the transformational process and the active involvement of members whose perspectives are not taken into account. If they "separate out" the different perspectives, they are likely to perpetuate splits between the groups. If they enable conflicting perspectives to interact with each other, they will increase the chances of paradoxical trans-formations, of new and creative shared understandings that emerge from the interaction of the competing perspectives. The process of transformation is not affect-free. Rather, it is often paralyzing and disorienting and is experienced as a sequence In contrast to simple and gradual changes, organizations undergoing transformation come to understand themselves and their mission very differently from their original understanding. ~anuary-February 1993 11 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project of deaths and rebirths. Initially, various members' primary feelings are likely to include shock, defensiveness, loss, and anger. Throughout the development of new interpretive schemes, mem-bers will experience both ambiguity and confusion, not only when it is unclear that any satisfactory new understanding is develop-ing, but also when there are multiple potential perspectives. The conflict among subgroups will create additional tension. If and when a new synthesis is reached that people experience as acceptable, there is likely to be a sense of rightness and satisfac-tion, at least among members whose perspectives have been incor-porated. Summary Application of the Conceptual Model In this study we assume that religious life, congregations, and religious priests, brothers, and sisters are in the midst of a trans-formational process and that the new understandings of religious life held by significant numbers of members have not yet been fully developed. We also assume that the environmental change that most stimulated the transformation process was the new understandings of the church proclaimed during Vatican II and incorporated shortly afterward in documents directing religious congregations to begin the analysis and revision of their basic principles and practices. Presently, diverse, sometimes contradictory understandings of religious life have been developed among groups of religious. In addition, environmental forces that strongly support the devel-opment of particular understandings are present (for example, among the hierarchy and in various segments of the laity). How can the process to this point be best understood? What will hap-pen next in the transformational process? To what extent can leaders influence the transformation process? B. Levels of Change Change at the Level of the Social Institution The changes that have taken place generally in religious life have, of course, occurred in many different congregations. Schneiders's (1986) work describes a shared shift across many congregations--in the understanding of many of the components of religious life such as the vows and community. In addition, books suggesting that religious are meant to be "prophetic" or 12 Review for Religious "countercultural:' (for example, Woodward, 1987; Foley, 1988) are written to religi6us as a group, not to particular congrega-tions. Thus, the first level this study will consider is religious life as a shared entity across congregations. Shifts in understanding are frequently intertwined with shifts in structures, both formal and informal, and these structural shifts include not only new types of relationships and divisions among subgroups, but also the breakdown of formerly established orga-nizational boundaries. At the level of the universal church, Molinari and Gumpel (1987, p. 19) ask, "Is the consecrated way of life a structure in the church or a structure of the church?" The latter phrase implies only one structure of divine origin, namely the hierarchical one, while the former implies multiple divinely willed structures in the church. At the core of the dis-tinction is the degree to which the hierarchic structure governs the pneumatic components, the charismatic dimensions, of the church. Depending on the response to the question of one structure ¯ or many, structural diversity and change will occur in very dif-ferent ways. Many religious believe that their traditions repre-sent the pneumatic or charismatic dimension of the church that was evident in their founders and foundresses, and that these tra-ditions are better structured and controlled without the influence of the hierarchic structure. Areas for Investigation. In addition to the changes occurring within religious life in relation to the church, intercongregational structures have also been developing. We examined in a limited way intercongregatiofial changes such as mergers that are associ-ated with shifts in understanding or direction. What in particu-lar has happened to the boundaries separating religious from the diocesan clergy and from the laity? Change at the Level of lndividual Congregations Mthough some changes in understanding have been occur-ring across congregations in religious life as a "social institution," others have been occurring differently within different congre-gations. Moreover, many of the changes that have occurred across the board have been experienced by members of individual con-gregations as occurring within their own congregation more than in religious life as a whole. Thus, this study was concerned not only with changes in religious life generally, but also with changes occurring within specific congregations. .~anuary-Febrtmry 1993 13 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project For example, Bartunek (1984) described how the under-standing of the educational mission in one women's congregation shifted from the mid 1960s to the late 1970s. At the beginning of the change process, education was viewed as synonymous with activities that took place in schools the congregation adminis-tered. By the late 1970s, however, the educational mission was seen primarily as "seeking justice with the heart of an educator," which might or might not take place in formal educational set-tings, let alone schools the congregation administered. Beres and Musser (1987) have described how during that same period another congregation broadened its mission from particular areas of service to a general philosophy of service, with priorities shift-ing from the works of the congregation to the works of the con-gregation's individual members. Within religious congregations Nygren (1988) found that both male and female religious are adapting their structures and categories of membership to their emerging self-understanding. In a survey of 740 leaders of religious congregations, he found that 70% of the female leaders indicate that they are adapting their membership to include the full or partial membership of lay people. Among female congregations 18% of the total sur-veyed expect to amalgamate with another congregation, province, or monastery to adapt to internal changes. Correspondingly, 25 % of the male leaders anticipate altering membership categories, and 12% of them expect to amalgamate with another entity to adapt to change. These anticipated or accomplished changes affect both the existing members and the organization's self-definition. In one congregation studied by Bartunek (1984), members' shifts in understanding were intertwined with the development of several cross-province groups and commissions. They were also intertwined with the breakdown of formerly established exter-nal boundaries. Many congregational members started working with groups that had been clearly outside the original boundaries of the congregation. These structural changes eventually resulted in a merger of the U.S. provinces of the congregation. Areas for Investigation. How broadly applicable are the types of changes described above? What types of structural changes are occurring? What effects.do these changes have on the develop-ment of new understandings? Next, what are the processes through which new under-standings have be~n occurring? The model articulated above sug- 14 Review for Religious gests that change typically includes an initial experience of crisis, accompanied by strong feelings such as sadness, anger, and defen-siveness and followed by the development of differing under-standings on the part of various organizational subgroups. Feeli.ngs and reactions also accompany this stage: ambiguity and confu-sion about the possible understandings as well as conflict between groups. The introduction of the new Council of Major Superiors of Women Religious, for instance, introduces legitimacy to a divergent opinion among religious leadership. When a new syn-thesis is reached, a sense of rightness occurs. If it fails to occur, more destructive dynamics may characterize the group's func-tioning. In addition, from which elements of the environment do members of a particular congregation receive messages or con-straints regarding appropriate (or publicly appropriate) self-under-standing? In particular, how do the hierarchical church and the laity have an impact? How do intercongregational groups and networks affect the development of understandings within the congregations that belong to these groups? Next, how has leadership been affecting the experienced changes in religious life? The role of leadership has been ana-lyzed !n detail for an understanding of how leaders contribute to the development or decline of organizations. Change at the Level of Individual Members of Congregations It is clear ~hat changes have not left individual members untouched. For example, Ebaugh (1977) showed that the changes had strong effects on why members of women's religious con-gregations left the congregation. Others have indicated that one of the typical effects of a transformational process is an increase in the stress level of individual members. This is due to the ambi-guity that accompanies the change and to conflict between sub-groups. There should be more to the experience of individual reli-gious, however, than difficult feelings. Bartunek and Ringuest (1987) found that members of a particular congregation whose work took them across the congregation's original boundaries during the early 1970s, and who remained in their congregation, eventually came to perceive themselves as more influential in the congregation than did members who continued to carry out tra-ditional works. January-February 1993 15 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project Thus, we are concerned not only with the change taking place on the congregational and intercongregational level, but also with the way various members of religious orders and particular sub-groups are experiencing the change. In addition, the differences between the experience of men and women religious may be rel-evant. We address two questions regarding this experience. Areas for Investigation. What has the experience of change been like for individual members of congregations? The model we have presented proposes that individual members of congrega-tions should experience a wide range of feelings during the change process. The departure of such a large percentage of religious has also had an impact on those who remain. Those who con-tinue to live the vocation to religious life surely have a unique perspective on their role and are rooted in a spirituality that sus-tains them. With this frame of transformation, then, we designed a .comprehensive assessment that could give us some measure of how change is occurring and affecting religious life at the level of the social institution, congregations, and individuals. III. Research Units The design of the Religious Life Futures Project contained six independent studies. They are described below. Figure 1 depicts the six research units, and a brief description of each unit follows. Figure 1 Religious Life Futures Project Research Units Hist/Theol Monograph Leadership S~udies Interview Survey Caring People Study Visioning Groups 16 Review for Religious The National Survey was a comprehensive questionnaire asking 9,999 religious sisters, brothers, and priests to express their beliefs and opinions about spirituality, motivation, services they provide, issues they consider to be negative or positive influences on the future of religious life, and various other matters of religious life in general and their orders in particular. The Leadership Studies were based on the recognition that leadership is a key factor in sustaining the life of any group. Investigations of leaders' views, of members' perceptions of their leaders, and of the competencies required ~or"~utstanding leadership were pursued in this research unit. The Caring People and Visioning Groups units of our project were constructed on the reason-able assumption that these subgroups could offer distinct perspectives. The caring people were identified by virtue of their exemplary car-ing for others, and participants, in the visioning-groups unit con-sisted of people nominated in virtue of their hopeful, positive, and compelling vision concerning the future of religious life. Individual Interviews, using a standard protocol, were pursued with persons identified as particularly knowledgeable about reli-gious life. These interviews probed for the interviewees' under-standings of the nature and purpose of religious life, of the challenges facing women and men religious at this time, and of the qualities required for leadership in the future. The Theological/Historical Monograph was commissioned to be written by Elizabeth Johnson CSJ, PhD, with a historical postscript by John W. Padberg SJ, PhD. Their material wi!l add perspective to the wealth of information collected, analyzed, and evaluated. The Religious Life Futures Project contained six independent studies. A. The National Survey Purpose and Method The purpose of the National Survey was to obtain informa-tion about members' attitudes and practices regarding religious life. Questions ranged from general demographics to patterns and attitudes about living arrangements and job satisfaction. The sur-vey also sought information regarding attitudes toward vows, var-ious aspects of religious life, spiritual growth, and future plans. .~anuary-Felrruary 1993 17 Nyffren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project Early in 1990 each major superior in the United States was contacted by letter with a request for a list of the names and addresses of their members. From the more than 121,000 names received, a stratified random-sample design selected the partici-pants for the survey. This random sample was stratified to ensure statistically valid comparisons according to tradition (apostolic, contemplative, mendicant, monastic) and vocation (sisters, broth-ers, religious priests). The 335-item questionnaire was mailed in October 1990 to the 9,999 religious priests, brothers, and sisters selected in this manner. With postcard and phone follow-ups, an overall response of 77.4% (7,736 responses) was obtained. The data base used for reporting results consists of 6,359 usable surveys. In the data anal-ysis, the responses were weighted to reflect population proportions of sisters, brothers, and religious priests and of apostolic, mendi-cant, monastic, and contemplative groups. All data were analyzed according to age groups that would reflect developmental stages (ages 19-45, 46-60, 61-73, 74-96). Data Analysis and Results The questions throughout the survey represented a broad range of topic categories. Initial principal-components factor anal-yses were conducted on a select number of the items in the sur-vey. Separate factor analyses were conducted for vocation (sister, brother, priest), tradition (apostolic, mendicant, contemplative, and monastic), and age group (19-45, 46-60, 61-73, and 74-96). The results of these analyses, presented in terms of level of analysis and grouped in meaningful clusters, appear in Table 1. As indicated, four major clusters of factors emerged on the level of the Social Institution: structures, innovations, restraints, and cred-ibility. The clusters of factors are listed on the chart and will be defined and discussed below; summary findings, too, will be pre-sented on the following pages. Social Institution: Structures The National Survey factors related to Structures include role clarity, permanent commitment, external authority, systemic change, and hierarchical alliance. Because of the significance of role-clarity findings in this study, we present an extended discus-sion of this issue and then a summary of the other factors. 18 Review for Religious Categorization of Factors Derived from the Religious Life Futures Project Table 1 Social Institution Congregation Individual STRUCTURES Role Clarity Permanent Commitment External Authority Systemic Change Hierarchical Alliance INNOVATIONS Diversity Expanding Lay Roles Greater Inclusion RESTRAINTS Cultural Threats CREDIBILITY Commitment to the Poor Anomie LEADERSHIP ' Spiritual Intensity Charisma/Individual Consideration Intellectual Stimulation/ Inspirational Laissez-Faire Active Management by Exception Contingent Reward DYNAMICS Community Living Involvement Influence Ongoing Development GUIDANCE Procedural Clarity Effects of Renewal Support of Sponsored Institutions SPIRITUALITY Oneness with God Intensified Spirituality Structured Prayer BELONGING Congregational Commitment Affiliation Intention to Remain ACTION Faithfulness to Vows Works of Mercy Role Clarity. Role clarity for religious is defined as "the indi-vidual's perceived level of understanding regarding his or her pur-pose and function within the current structure of the church." On this measure 55% of the sisters reported high role clarity, along with 65% of the brothers and 68% of the priests. More than 30% of the women reported low role clarity, indicating a lack of understanding or clarity regarding their role in the church today. The discussion of leadership issues related to the National Survey may be found in the section which fbcuses exclusively on this topic. ffanuary-Felr~utry 1993 19 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Projea Considering the data by tradition, we find 77% of the con-templatives and 64% of the monastics reporting high role clarity while only 59% of the apostolic and mendicant religious indi-cated they have a clear understanding of their role. Role clarity may be proportionately greater in the future, for, while only 52% of the youngest members reported high role clarity, 71% of the oldest did so. This finding parallels research that finds in many professions greater role clarity among those who have been in the profession for a longer time. Interestingly, the more highly educated members of religious congregations experience lower role clarity as religious. In terms of the fields of study, religious in the more applied disciplines such as business, education, and health care were less clear about their role as religious in the church than religious whose training is in the more theoretical disciplines such as theology, the human-ities, and the social sciences. The role demands of health-care providers or educators may present pressures that replace or com-pete with, rather than complement, the current role of religious in the church. Other research has demonstrated that ambiguity regarding role can, in general, lead to anxiety, reduced ability to meet role requirements, decreased ministerial satisfaction, lower trust and self-confidence, increased sense of futility, and greater propen-sity to leave a religious order. The lack of role clarity that a high percentage of religious experience may contribute to still more decline in the numbers of religious. There may also be some con-nection between the equal number of women and men entering religious life now (in contrast to women's former, three-times-greater number) and the greater number of women now experi-encing low role clarity. Taken together, this data signals the essential need for role clarity if religious orders in the United States are to be revitalized. Permanent Commitment. In responding to questions related to the normativeness of a lifelong commitment for religious life, all groups (considered by vocation, by tradition, and by age) reg-istered barely moderate agreement. On a scale wher~ 1 repre-sents "strongly disagree," 3 represents "neither agree nor disagree," and 5 represents "strongly agree," the group means ran between 3.1 and 3.5 on the matter of their agreeme.nt that permanent commitment is the norm. External Authority. All respondents tended to disagree that 20 Review for Religious reliance on external authority would influence the future of reli-gious life favorably. There was a general rejection of seeking input regarding thought, opinion, or behavior from outside sources such as church or group authority, indicated by the fact that, on the five-point scale described above, means for all groups were between 2.5 and 3.1. Systemic Change. Sisters, brothers, and religious priests experienced little connection between their work for sys-temic change (defined as "efforts to influence the social and political struc-tures which tend to discriminate against disadvantaged persons") and their per-sonal and spiritual fulfilhnent. All means were greater than 3.0 and less than 3.4. This did not change when considered by age groups or tradition. Hierarchical Alliance. The cluster of items that reflect a positive relationship between the hierarchy and religious or a positive attitude regarding the church's hierarchy and magiste-rial authority was not typically rated highly by religious. The more highly educated members of religious congregations experience lower role clarity as religious. Social Institution: Innovations The National Survey included items measuring participants' responses to trends in religious life that introduce greater diver-sity into community living. Items inquired about the conscious inclusion of persons who have declared their homosexual orien-tation, about the comfort level of minority-group members as perceived by members-at-large, and about the impact of includ-ing lay associate members. Admitting Homosexual Persons. Survey participants were asked to respond to this statement: "Declaring a homosexual orientation would not exclude an individual from being admitted to my con-gregation." Sixty-four percent (64%) of all respondents indicated either agreement with the statement or uncertainty. Thirty-six percent (36%) disagreed. Considering the data by vocation, only 16% of sisters agreed with the statement, and nearly 50% expressed uncertainty. This was significantly different from the responses of religious priests and brothers. Agreement of religious priests registered at 43 %, January-February 1993 21 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project with 22% uncertain. Thirty-five percent (35%) of the brothers agreed, with 25% uncertain. Among the four traditions, 53% of contemplatives indicated disagreement, im:plying the least expectation that persons declar-ing a homosexual orientation would be admitted to their con-gregations. "Agree," "uncertain," and "disagree" percentages were rather evenly split among the other traditions. Among monastics the greatest percentage (39%) agreed. Thirty-eight percent (38%) of the members of apostolic groups (again the greatest percentage) indicated uncertainty regarding admission of candidates with a known homosexual orientation. Considering the data by age, 45% of the members under 45 expressed their belief that a person with a homosexual orientation would be admitted to their congregation. Forty-three percent (43 %) of the oldest age group felt that homosexual persons would not be admitted, and 46% of the same age group expressed their uncertainty. Members of Minority Groups. When asked to respond to this statement, "Members of minority groups may feel uneasy in my congregation," the sentiment among religious in general is fairly well split: 36% agree; 22% are uncertain, and 42% disagree. This response pattern reflected the response pattern of the sisters, the brothers, and the religious priests considered separately and also of the apostolic, the mendicant, and the monastic religious con-sidered separately. But 52 % of contemplatives disagreed with the statement, while 27% agreed. Analysis by age reveals the greatest differences. Fifty-two per-cent (52 %) of the youngest group and 44% of the next age group (46-60 years) indicated their belief that members of minority groups would feel uneasy. In contrast, half of the 61-to-73 age group and 53% of the oldest group did not believe minority-group members would feel uneasy in their orders. At present, less than 10% of the members of religious orders in the United States are members of minority groups even though, in the near future, 50% of the U.S. Catholic population will be Hispanic. The real-ity of multiculturalism must be addressed by religious orders. Lay Associates. In response to this statement, "Inclusion of lay associates as members of my congregation may undermine what it means to be a member of my congregation," only 16% of the respondents agreed; 65% clearly disagreed. Lay associates, includ-ing members of the opposite sex and married couples, appear to 22 Review for Religious have widespread acceptance among religious. In general, religious reported little concern about having lay associates as members of their congregation and about the effect their presence may have on the meaning of membership in it. Other Factors. When asked to rate the impact that expanded lay roles in church ministry, feminist thought, the ordination of women, and the inclusion of married persons would have on reli-gious communities, respondents of all groups consistently indi-cated their belief that these situations and possibilities would have little effect if any. Social Institution: Restraints Respondents were invited to rate (on a five-point Likert scale where 1 represents "not at all" and 5 represents "extremely") aspects of contemporary American culture such as capitalism, technology, and affluence in terms of their potential threat to the future of religious life. Data analysis by age and tradition shows that religious view them as minimal threats. Considering the data by vocation, sisters indicated a greater (but not high) concern regarding the impact of cultural realities than did brothers and religious priests. Social Institution: Credibility The "credibility" cluster consisted in working with the poor and anomie. Commitment to the Poor. To measure a member's stated com-mitment to work personally with the poor, survey participants were asked to respond to this statement: "Although there is in.creasing talk about working with the poor, I feel little commit-ment to that." Mean scores for all vocations, traditions, and age groups did not exceed 3.5. (Sisters, members of apostolic groups, and religious in the 19-45 age group yielded the highest means in their groupings.) Thus, members of congregations express little commitment to participate in an activity which has increasingly become a value espoused by many congregations and, quite explic-itly, by the church. These findings suggest that the greatest commitment to work with the poor would be found in a young sister in an apostolic congregation. This group currently shows the least tendency to increase in size. Anomie, defined as a state in which normative standards of January-Felrruary 1993 23 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Reli~ous Life Futures Project conduct and belief are weak or lacking, is characterized by dis-orientation, anxiety, and isolation. Loss of conviction about the vows, lack of clarity about the role of religious, reactance to authority, lack of a corporate mission and ministry, and disillu-sionment with leadership pose significant threats to the future of religious life. The mean scores for all groups were greater than 3.5. These concerns increased with age. Congregational Level." Leadership The National Survey used specifically designed items related to qualities of spiritual leadership along with Bass's leadership scale to assess members' perceptions of their leaders. So that all leadership studies may be reported together, these findings are incorporated into Section III B, Leadership. Congregational Level." Dynamics The National Survey .also measured several factors affecting community living, including involvement, influence, and satis-faction with opportunities for ongoing development. Involvement and Influence. Involvement is defined as "the expe-rience of having, and the desire to be engaged in, activities related to the life of one's congregation"; influence, as "the experience of having and the desire to have some impact regarding the deci-sions and future of one's congregation." On a scale where 1 rep-resents "strongly disagree" and 5 represents "strongly agree," agreement regarding involvement in congregational activities was high (ranging from 3.9 to 4.0.), with nearly the same means across the three vocations (sister, brother, religious priest). Levels of perceived influence wei-e significantly lower, with means ranging from 3.2 to 3.0. Vv-hen the factors of involvement and influence were considered by tradition, the range was the same. Considering the data by age, interesting patterns surfaced. The youngest group had the lowest mean for influence and the highest mean for involvement. The 74-96 age group, in contrast to the 19-45 group, had the highest mean for influence and the lowest for involvement. A consistent pattern did emerge: The members' perceived or desired level of influence in their congregation is consistently lower than their experience or desire of involvement in it. This raises serious questions that touch on group-commitment and ownership issues. 24 Review for Religious Ongoing Development. Respondents' satisfaction with oppor-tunities for ongoing development through education and forma-tion, rated on a scale of 1 ("very dissatisfied") to 5 ("very satisfied"), averaged about 4.0. In general, the high levels of sat-isfaction and the high expectations that possibly accompany that satisfaction may encounter significant frustrations or difficult choices when, as is likely in most congregations, they encounter decliriing revenue and personnel. Congregational Level: Guidance The National Survey also investigated the degree to which a congregation's policies and structures promote the effective func-tioning of the group. Procedural clarity, effects of the renewal process, and members' willingness to support sponsored institu-tions are the focal points for addressing this question. Procedural Clarity. Analyzed by vocation, tradition, and age, religious indicated a moderate level of satisfaction with the clar-ity of their congregation's policies, and procedures. The group means ranged from 3.5 to 3.9. With the scale ranging from 1 ("strongly disagree") to 5 ("strongly agree"), it is fair to say that members do not experience an.overwhelming sense of clarity con-cerning their congregation's policies and procedures. Effects of Renewal, Thirty years ago the Second Vatican Council directed religious orders to examine their structures and update themselves. A return to the spirit of the founder was identified as a critical part of this renewal process. Members' assessments of their congregation's efforts and success in remaining faithful to the founding charism or in maintaining the prophetic character of religious life reflect once again only a moderate level of agree-ment. Across age groups the highest rating (the mean was 3.8) reflected the assessment of the 61-to-73-year-olds. Significantly, this was the group that provided most of the leadership during the past 30 years. The youngest group expressed the lowest satisfac-tion. There were no differences between the various traditions in their ratings of the effectiveness of renewal efforts. Support of Sponsored Institutions. In an effort to assess the com-mitment of members to their congregation's institutional com-mitments, respondents were asked to indicate their willingness to work in an institution sponsored by their congregation and their willingness to live in such an institution. Overall, 93% of the religious responding to the survey January-February 1993 25 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project answered yes regarding their willingness to work there. This rep-resents 94% of the religious priests and brothers and 92% of the sisters who responded. A smaller but still sizable percentage (88%) indicated their willingness to live at an institution sponsored by the congregation; this figure represents 84% of the sisters, 91% of the brothers, and 92% of the priests. ~'hese results present the opportunity to leaders, congrega-tional planners, and institutional decision makers to consider the availability and willingness of members of religious organizations and to direct their efforts toward a corporate mission. The empha-si~ on individual ministries that has evolved in recent years may now be shifting or open to reconsideration by members. Individual Level: Spirituality Spirituality was considered in terms of the experience of a sense of oneness or harmony with God, the degree of increased spiritual intensity, and the value of structured prayer to personal and spiritual fulfillment. Oneness with God. M1 religious report a moderately high level of agreement on a five-point Likert-type scale (1 represents "not at all" and 5 represents "frequently if not always") to questions assessing a sense of oneness with God. Sisters and contempla-tives score highest. Not surprisingly, this sense appears to deepen with age insofar as mean scores for age groups increased as age increased. Intensified Spirituality. The survey also measured changes in spirituality in terms of the degree to which respondents reported finding greater value in religious life and having deeper belief in Jesus Christ and deeper appreciation of the value of prayer since the time of their first profession of vows. While sisters, contemplatives, and members of the 74-96 age group reported the greatest levels of intensified spirituality, the other groups reflected high levels. StTv~ctnred Prayer. The degree to which structured prayer ex~)e-riences such as common prayer, an annual retreat, confession, and devotion to Mary were reported to be a source of spiritual and personal fulfillment was also measured on a five-point scale. Considered by vocation (si~ters, brothers, priests), all resporidents registered agreement beyond a level of 4. I. Consistent with their tradition, contemplatives had the highest mean of the tradition groupings in reporting structured prayer to be a very valuable 26 Review for Religious contributor. The experience of structured prayer as spiritually and personally fulfilling increased with age. Individual Level'. Belonging The National Survey measured individuals' commitment to their congregation as well as affiliation and the intention to remain. Commitment to Congregation. All traditions, vocations, and age groups reported moderately high to very high levels of congre-gational commitment. Not surpris-ingly, levels of agreement steadily increased with the respondents' ages. Affiliation. As was the case for commitment to the congregation, all groups (vocation, tradition, and age) were strong in their agreement with items indicative of high affiliation. Sisters, contemplatives, and members of the oldest age group had the high-est means in their respective cate-gories. Intention to Remain. Members of all groups (considered by age, voca-tion, and tradition) expressed--at or beyond the 4.2 level on the five-point "strongly disagree/strongly agree" scale--agreement with items related to their intention to remain in their congregation. This high degree of durability may be viewed both as cause for celebration and as cause for concern. Religious women report chastity as most meaningful and least difficult, while men report chastity as most difficult and least meaningful. Individual Levek Actions The National Survey also measured respondents' manifesta-tion of belief through their fidelity to vows and works of mercy. Faithfulness to Vows. Self-ratings regarding faithfulness to their vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, when analyzed by voca-tion, tradition, and age, ranged between 3.7 and 4.1. Because the purpose of this study was not to delve into the details of behav-iors of religious women and men as they relate to observance of their vows, the research asked only for individual self-reports of fidelity to each vow. Of greater concern in this investigation were those individual that were related to persons who do or do not perceive themselves as faithful. January-February 1993 27 Nyg~ren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project Regarding practice of the vows, the researchers learned that religious women report chastity as most meaningful and least dif-ficult, while men report chastity as most difficult and least mean-ingful. In a ranking of difficulty, obedience emerges as more difficult for women than for men. Works of Mercy. The belief that direct action to help the sick or poor made a somewhat valuable contribution to their spiritual and personal fulfillment was registered most strongly by religious priests and sisters. Considering the data by tradition, members of the mendicant and apostolic groups reported that their practice of the works of mercy was somewhat valuable to their personal and spiritual fulfillment. Monastic religious experienced such works as less valuable, and contemplatives, perhaps as a function of their lifestyle, experienced them as least helpful. Factor Conclusions: Social Institution The social institution of religious life in the United States continues to reflect the dynamics of an organization in signifi-cant transition. The lack of role clarity for a large percentage of religious and the ambivalence regarding permanent commitment to the classic vows leave the social institution vulnerable to innu-merable other social and cultural forces. The results would indi-cate that the population of religious in general is moving toward a much more permeable system of membership, commitment, autonomy, and inclusion. While on the one hand this reinforces innovation that includes diversity and broadened assumptions about religious life, the research also indicates that religious do not see how clearly they are influenced by cultural assimilation. Likewise, the credibility of many religious may be lessened in the eyes of those they serve and in the society in which they func-tion because of the discrepancies between their espoused values and their practice. By their own admission, religious see indif-ference and a lack of passion to be a major threat to themselves as persons and to religious life overall in relation to other social sys-tems in society. Factor Conclusions: Congregation Leadership is a critical force for the clarification of the role identity of religious in the United States. Within congregations, 2 8 Review for Religious particularly among women, there exists a fair degree of satisfac-tion with leadership. The hidden side of the satisfaction is that it may signal complaisance among members who at the same time find it difficult to influence the direction of the congregation. For many, the congregation lacks a coherent approach to col-lective action, particularly regarding sponsored institu-tions. In addition, the efforts at renewal have not met indi-vidual hopes. Community life continues to engage mem-bers, and they feel deeply committed to congregational life, willing to be more involved than they currently are, but also feel less influen-tial with leadership in the matter of setting the direction of the congregation. The high need for affiliation noted in the survey results may, in fact, stifle the creativity necessary to move groups into the future. Leadership is a critical force for the clarification of the role identity of religious in the United States. Factor Conclusions: Individual A facet of the research that addresses optimistically the lack of role clarity for many religious is the data that suggests how important spirituality and a vital relationship with God really are for many of them. Structured prayer, however varied the forms, continues to be a value. Individuals feel genuinely called by God to religious life and see an intensified spirituality as desirable. They are personally committed strongly to the community, they derive satisfaction from belonging, and most intend to remain in religious life. It is fair to say that the data indicates a stronger ecclesiology than Christology. Individuals emphasize participation in the life of the church and community as foundational to their spirituality. Their relationship to the person of Christ is less clearly drawn, perhaps because of the design of the study itself or maybe because of shifting language schemes to describe one's spirituality. What is clear from the research is that their spirituality will define their uniqueness in the church and their belonging will satisfy their affiliative needs. January-February 1993 29 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project The data suggests also that, if religious experience difficulty, it has to do with the impact of the vows on their life and with their fidelity to the vows. The personal sacrifice that has been the foundation of the vowed life has found support in the effect it has had on the mission of the congregation and the church. Profound shifts have occurred in the interpretation of the vows and the willingness to live them. More fluid interpretations of poverty, obedience, and chastity are widely observed. In addition, some religious describe new vows--of ecology, for instance--as descriptive of the future. Personal understandings of religious life and the commitment required to live the life are very broad. This results in part from lack of role clarity and from the vast cultural shifts in American society that have had a significant influence on religious life. Most religious would see some return to normative behavior as neces-sary, but they are reluctant to do so if that means returning to the sect-like distinction of religious life of the past. B. Leadership The recognition and identification of leadership as a critical factor in the transformation of religious orders prompted the investigation of leadership from many perspectives. These included: 1. a series of regional gatherings attended by 192 leaders of religious congregations; 2. members'oat-large perceptions of their leaders through the National Survey; 3. a separate "Leadership-Competency Assessment of Leaders of Religious Orders" with personality psycholo-gist David McClelland PhD. One of the first issues to surface during the course of the Religious Life Futures Project was the urgency of selecting and training leaders who not only can manage the complexity of reli-gious life that is predicted to intensify during the next 10 years, but also can focus the attention of their communities on a vision that will unite individual efforts inspired by the mission of their founder or foundress. The most striking weakness among cur-rent leaders is their inability to formulate a strategy to achieve a purpose or mission. Also of concern was the increasingly widespread use of con- 30 Review for Religious sensual processes and team leadership. The findings indicate that, while potentially effective, such approaches can often lead to mediocre management, representing the least common denomi-nator within an organization. Uninformed implementation of consensual methods often paralyzes the visionary leader. Leadership Workshops At the Leadership Workshops the participants were asked to write, in the form of a letter to their members, their vision for the future of their congregation, of the people whom their congre-gation serves, and of religious life in general. A content analysis of these "letters" yielded four categories of leadership: Value-based leaders expressed a sense of direction for their con-gregations or themselves in terms of the conceptual and cultural aspects of religious life. They were able to give expression to their values, but were unable to ide.ntify strategies to actualize them. For example, the author of one letter expressed concern about the environment, but only vaguely proposed that the congregation become involved in recycling. A letter simply urging the eradi-cation of "oppressive structures" without any suggested imple-mentation illustrates another value stated without a strategy. Visionary leaders, on the other hand, expressed a sense of direc-tion in terms of the structural and organizational aspects of reli-gious. life. The articulation of a strategy to accomplish their vision marks the difference between visionary and value-based leaders. One of the letters, besides proposing a new form of community in which nonvowed members would participate in governance, named specific guidelines and thus coupled a vision with a strat-egy. Conflicted leaders were unable to address change and often expressed frustration, anger, sadness, and even despair. These feelings were frequently directed toward members of the con-gregations. One such leader wrote, "It seems to me that some of our religious are unconcerned. They seem to have lost the orig-inal enthusiasm for their religious calling. Life has become drudgery for them, and membership in our congregation is a bur-den. Nothing we do or try to do seems to change this picture, and it is of great concern to me." Incognizant leaders, those who are unconscious or unaware of major issues facing their orders, failed to address any of the con- January-Felrruary 1993 31 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project cerns facing their congregations or the church. For example, one leader wrote, "There is no secular history/profane history; there is only sacred history. God is present in everything and in all. God journeys with us, with all people. God is the force, the life, the purpose behind everything and everyone." The researchers note that, while God is ultimately the means and the end of reli-gious life and leadership itself, incognizant leaders do not realize their role in enabling the action of God. From these workshops, the researchers concluded that there is often a gulf between the responsibilities of the office and the abilities some leaders bring to it. In many cases, leaders lack the necessary competencies or training to function effectively. Members' Perceptions of Leadership from the National Survey The National Survey measured members' perceptions of their leaders, using a measure of leaders' spiritual intensity and Bass's transformational and transactional leadership scales. The spiri-tual intensity of their leaders is rated highly by both men and wbmen. Both female and male religious expressed a slighdy higher degree of satisfaction with individual leaders than with leader-ship teams. Women were generally more satisfied with their lead-ership than men were. The survey measured the degree to which members viewed their leaders as transformational and transactional. Transforma-tional leaders provide vision and a sense of mission while instill-ing pride and gaining respect and trust. Transactional leaders focus on administrative and operational details. Typically, trans-actional leaders orient subordinates toward achieving goals by monitoring their performance, rewarding their accomplishments, and taking corrective action when necessary. Sometimes they abdicate responsibilities and avoid decision making. Both women and men tend to consider their leaders to be transformational people who embody charisma and individual consideration as well as intellectual stimulation and inspiration. On a scale where 1 represents "almost never" and 5 represents "frequently if not always," sisters' mean ratings of their leaders on charisma and intellectual stimulation were 3.67 and 3.57, respec-tively. Conversely, male religious consistently rate their leaders higher on transactional qualities, contingent reward (brothers' mean was 1.78; priests' mean was 1.70) and active management by exception (brothers' mean was 2.38; priests' mean was.2.26), than 32 Review.for Religious do female religious (contingent-reward mean was 1.62; manage-ment- by-exception mean was 2.06). The findings showed that, while spiritual intensity was the most frequently observed behavior of all outstanding leaders, charisma or individual consideration of members was the most significant predictor of satisfaction with an individual leader or a leadership team. Leadership Competency Study This research unit assessed systematically the competencies required for outstanding leadership. The model of competency assessment developed by McClelland and associates at McBer & Co. was employed. It began with the convening of a panel of experts to assist in identifying a criterion group of 24 present or former leaders of religious congregations regarded by their peers as "outstanding." Using the "Behavioral Event Interview" (BEI) method also devel-oped by McClelland, the research team interviewed this group of 12 women and 12 men. Similar interviews were conducted with a control group of 15 "typical" leaders (11 women and 4 men) matched with the criterion group for age, gender, tradition, size of congregation, and length of tenure. These interviews were then transcribed and coded by two separate raters for leadership competencies. Analysis of the data revealed that outstanding and typical lead-ers share certain "threshold competencies," including an ability to articulate the mission of their congregations, an inclination to act efficiently, basic conceptual and analytical skills, self-confi-dence, and avoidance of impulsive or emotional expression. These can be regarded as foundational competencies for leaders of reli-gious orders. Outstanding leaders, however, were found to differ from typ-ical leaders in several significant ways. For instance, outstanding leaders expressed, nearly three times as often as did typical lead-ers, a desire to perform tasks well or better than they had been performed in the past. They stated more than twice as often as typical leaders that they wanted to find new ways to achieve goals and to make things better for the people their order serves. Approximately 65% of the outstanding leaders mentioned taking initiative to deal with anticipated problems at least five times. Only 22 % of typical leaders referred that often to taking such actions. January-February 1993 33 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project Outstanding male leaders are more likely to start projects dealing with problems anticipated in the coming years than are typical male leaders and female leaders in general. The study also found that outstanding leaders were signifi-cantly more likely than typical leaders to mention using their power to influence group decisions or behavior; to build consen-sus and team spirit by soliciting the views of others; to attempt to see issues from different perspectives; and to draw on divine assis-tance in their leadership roles. Conversely, typical leaders were more inclined than outstand-ing leaders to mention that they had threatened sanctions to control the behavior of subordinates; had acted out of formal authority, not by building consensus; and had involved themselves with the per-sonal problems of individual mem-bers as opposed to the problems of the entire congregation. Typical leaders seldom refer to God in their leadership activity. The study' also found differ-ences between outstanding men and outstanding women leaders. Outstanding men appeared more likely than outstanding wo~nen to have begun new projects; to have acted assertively; to have offered more opinion, s, particularly negative ones, to subordi-nates; to have developed the leadership capacity of others; and to have experienced the benefit of God's support. The outstanding women, on the other hand, appeared more likely to have focused on consensus building; to have pointed to the spiritual significance of events; and to have positive expecta-tions of others and of religious life in general. The leadership-competency assessment revealed that out-standing male leaders are more likely to start projects dealing with problems anticipated in the coming years than are typical male leaders and female leaders in general. Neither ?utstanding nor typical female leaders appear to initiate such projects. While all male leaders report more behavior that threatens members with termination of an assignment or with dismissal from a con-gregation than do female leaders, this is strikingly true of typical male leaders. Outstanding female leaders behave in this manner more frequently than their typical counterparts. This suggests the desirability of a moderate use of sanctions. 34 Review for Religious C. Visioning Groups Recognizing that various groups of members could offer distinct perspectives, the study was to include the views of persons who could provide specifically clear opinions regarding the future of religious orders. Individuals identified as future oriented yet rooted in their order's charism were invited to participate in one of four Visioning Groups. This research unit was conducted through a series of weekend gatherings. The aim was to learn about the personality characteristics and beliefs of the individu-als and to develop strategies and agendas that could implement the visionaries' images of the future of religious life. Their prospec-tive views would also be compared with those of both leaders and members-at-large of religious orders. Selection of Participants Subjects for the Visioning Groups were recruited through a nomination process that began with a letter sent to the major superiors of 550 randomly selected congregations. The superi-ors were asked to consult with their councils, similar groups of advisors, or members-at-large to nominate one member of their order to participate in a group experience. Criteria for selection asked that the nominee be a person of vision who is recognized for his or her ability to live the charism of the congregation in today's society and that the nominee be able to articulate a sense of hope and a belief in the future of religious life. A total of 92 religious-- 48 women and 44 men (12 brothers and 32 priests)--participated in the Visioning Groups' gatherings. "The Dilemma": Affiliation vs. Transformation One of the most significant findings of the Visioning Group workshops emerged from an exercise conducted during the course of each gathering. Participants were organized randomly into groups of three or four people and given the task of identifying those elements critical to the future of religious life. After a period of private reflection, participants were asked to gather in their assigned groups and share the results of their reflections. Each of these groups then joined another, resulting in groups of 6 to 8. They continued the conversation and were then asked to con-struct an image or metaphor that captured visually and graphically the components they considered essential to a future vision of religious life. The results of their work included such images as a January-February 1993 35 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project kaleidoscope, a prism, a jazz band, a symphony orchestra, and the spiral of unitive consciousness. After all groups in a session had ~'eported and presented their images of the future of religious life, each person was asked to consider all the models and to stand near the one he or she found most compelling in terms of a future vision. Participants were asked to base their choice on their willingness to make a personal commitment and to devote their energy to realizing that future vision. This request invariably created a dilemma for the partici-pants. Preferring a model designed by another group produced in most individuals a sense of guilt, of betrayal and abandonment of the group with which they had worked to produce an image. This process replicated the dilemma which many members of congregations experience in wanting to be involved in actualizing a compelling vision of the future, but desiring also to maintain existing relational bonds. While this sense of loyalty or affilia-tion that inhibits change is not unique to religious groups, it does represent a critical factor in groups moving toward changing the future. Affiliation is generally stronger than vision. This tension is particularly important to consider in light of the National Survey's finding that members of religious orders experience a particularly high need for affiliation. This dynamic is an important challenge for religious leaders. Visioning Groups Conclusions: Social Institution Revitalized religious life, rooted in Jesus Christ and the gospel's values, will manifest that spirit in the world by challeng-ing systems that oppress others, by living in visible simplicity, and by renewing congregations' fidelity to their founding pur-pose. The visioning groups view authority as power that is shared among communities of equals. This perception, however, may level the traditional notions of the vow of obedience and bring more democratic ideals into the classical traditions of religious life. Viewing the global community as the locus of redemption, sisters, brothers, and religious priests will face alterations in prayer, expanding their language for a greater inclusivity. They will choose to share in the world's suffering and will shift away from the rigidity of regional and juridical thinking. Members of reli- 36 Review for Religious gious orders will express their relationship with Jesus in the con-text of belonging, in shared symbolic life, and possibly in a shift in primary language. The dominant language of religious life has shifted from theological constructs to social and psychological paradigms. Many religious no longer use sacramental or tran-scendental frames of reference to describe their experience of God. Multiculturalism as normative is desirable, but confronting the personal and systemic racism that marks our society and reli-gious orders could be the single greatest challenge in the area of membership. Conclusions: Congregation Religious congregations ought to provide opportunities for structural expressions of emerging forms of religious life. To do so, they will have to discern the contemporary expression of their founder's charism, redefine or reestablish boundaries for mem-bership and behavior, and confront the discrepancies between espoused and lived values. The images (discussed above) of a future vision of religious life that were constructed by small teams were efforts to isolate and highlight a particular manifestation of a charism, not as an end in itself but to show a possible direction for the congregation to move in. At present, such efforts to regain the founding spirit are often viewed by the majority of members as marginal. When those who may have the vision are pressured to conform to the group, revitalization may be undermined. Conclusions: Individual Individuals within religious orders will shift from an internal to a global focus. They will need to acquire new interpersonal skills and an ability to cope with moving from stability and secu-rity to change and risk that lead to a more clearly focused mission. Challenging a culture that has supported privatism and indi-vidualism, members of religious congregations will need to reex-amine nonnegotiables. Relinquishing many previously held tenets, they will respond to the call of serving absolute human need in the spirit of their founder. New members must demonstrate the maturity to live a life of sacrifice, must possess or acquire the skills for leadership posi- .~anuary-Fetrruary 1993 37 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Reh~ious Life Futures Project tions in global and church communities, and must be able to sus-tain intimate relationships in the context of a celibate commit-ment. Current members, too, who continue to belong to religious congregations will need these skills and qualities and must prepare to live in communities that require them. D. Caring People The Caring People unit studied the characteristics of persons identified by members of their congregations as "uniquely car-ing" or "unusually helpful, thoughtful, understanding, or caring persons." All selected subjects received mailed packets that included a cover letter, a six-picture story exercise (projective technique), the National Survey questionnaire, and a variety of open-ended and short-answer measures. Because traditional question-and-answer research does not easily permit the study of unconscious motives, open-ended (projective) techniques were used to study the motive structures of these persons. This approach was espe-cially important because much research about traits and behavior typically depends on self-reports which introduce the possibility of bias in the direction of socially acceptable responses. In other words, what might have been measured in other studies was the need for consistency of self-image, not necessarily the subject's willingness to go to the assistance of a needy person. By coding responses to some open-ended questions, we were able to con-struct a profile of caring people. Findings The Caring People study found that, in contrast to typical religious, religious who are perceived as unusually helpful, under-standing, and caring feel closer to and more trusting of God, who is seen as the source of healing and care. On projective measures, caring religious score higher in trust and lower in mistrust than typical sisters, brothers, and priests and tend to portray authority as benevolent. Caring religious con-nect divine assistance, in contrast to individual effort, with heal-ing experiences. They are less self-controlling and more spontaneously inclined to generosity. Caring people state that they often find the experience of contemplative prayer very valuable. They also demonstrate a 3 8 Review for Religious greater interpersonal involvement in caring experiences. Caring religious describe these relationships as growing and mutual and as containing a wider meaning or significance beyond the imme-diate relationship. Finally, these religious experience more joy in caring and more zest for living. This contrasts with typical religious, who describe caring for others in tension-reduction terms. That is, typical religious report their caring as a response to a need in themselves such as caring out of duty or as a repayment, or car-ing in response to special needs such as the illness, rejection, or trauma of other people. Presence of God This research suggests that, for caring religious, helping is not simply a transaction between two people. There is a third force in the relationship that .might most generally be called a "benevolent authority" or, more simply, God. The caring reli-gious stays in close touch with God and wants to share this behev-olent authority with others. When encountering a person in need, the goal of the caring religious is not primarily to relieve his or her suffering, but to create a three-way relationship in which Jesus and the gospel's values are deeply involved. Helpers of this type do not see themselves as agents in the process; at most they are partners with or assistants to the real source of helping. They do not feel ultimately responsible. For this reason and also because the helping is in itself joyous, caring religious do not as readily "burn out." This description also explains why caring religious who are so motivated are perceived to be helpful rather than manipulative. Because they so obviously believe that of themselves they can do nothing and because they want to establish a mutually rewarding i'elationship, caring religious are not perceived as egoistically threatening the self-esteem, interpersonal power, or indepen-dence of others. To the extent that responding to absolute human need is embraced anew as the ultimate mission of religious congrega-tions, the formation and development of this motive for religious life is clearly essential. Caring People Conclusions: Social Institution This part of the research effort assumes that a fundamental ffanuary-Felrruary 1993 39 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project component of the role identity of religious is their call to care for others. It also assumes the motive of desire for oneness with God. Perhaps the future of religious life will be defined increas-ingly by these attributes or actions on behalf of others that medi-ate the presence of God. Caring religious live an operative Christology that is simultaneously immanent and transcendent. Conclusions: Congregation The Caring People study suggests that the heart of congre-gational life is the life of Jesus Christ in the gospel. The imme-diacy of the presence of the caring person to another is possible because of this effort to mediate God, whom they see as a benev-olent authority and the source of their action. Conclusions: Individual The focus of individual formation must be increasingly spir-itual. This research would indicate that those who learn to be authentically caring are inclined spontaneously to generosity, are trusting, and are aware that God acts in and through them. This level of freedom requires viewing God as a benevolent authority in whose name one acts as mediator. E. Individual Interviews Using a standard protocol developed for use in the Individual Interviews phase of the study, the researchers 15robed persons identified as particularly cognizant and understanding of religious life's nature and purpose and of the challenges now facing women and men religious and identified, too, as having the qualities required for leadership in the future. The purpose of this por-tion of the study was to verify the beliefs of members-at-large about the nature and purpose of religious life and its mission, about emerging forms and structures, and about future directions and to compare these beliefs with those surfacing in other forums. Conclusions: Social Institution Interviewees noted that the mission of Jesus will be the cen-tral focus and that the spirituality of congregations will be rooted 40 Review for Religious in their charism. Driven by pressing social and ecclesial needs, charity and justice will be the focus of mission and ministry, and most apostolic community life will be in proximity to the poor. Although a clear church identity will be maintained, the struc-tures of religious life will be based on mission rather than canons, and the unique charism of religious life will remain largely distinct from hierarchical functions. An inclusive atmosphere will be marked by multiculturalism, a clear inclusion of women and the feminine, and a genuine respect for diversity. Perhaps the most striking discrepancy in the portrait of the future of the social institution of religious life that emerges from the Visioning Groups, the National Survey, and the Individual Interviews involves commitment to the poor. The random sam-ple of members reveals at most a moderate commitment to par-ticipate in an activity which has become increasing!y a mission espoused by many religiou~ orders and quite explicitly by the church. Conclusions: Congregation Some of several changes in congregational living could strengthen the religious orders of the future. Specifically, inter-viewees indicate that religious community life will be marked increasingly by the intentionality of sha~ed values, purpose, and resources. Some congregations whose charisms are similar will merge, the number of apostolic groups will decrease, and many groups will become smaller. Because their members report greater clarity of focus and mission, membership in monastic orders may increase. The ranks of religious orders will be marked by older mem-bers, with few younger members and many second-career entrants. New congregations, though few, will contribute to the revital-ization of religious life. Religious congregations must examine the impact of what has often been an uncritical introduction of associational and affilia-tional forms of membership. This will entail a focus on the mean-ing of membership and in many cases the reestablishment of boundaries. Congregations that are vital to the church will have an explicit focus, and their effectiveness will be enhanced by the members' commitment to the collective mission. January-February 1993 41 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project Conclusions: Individual In the view of those who participated in the interviews, com-mitment to works of mercy is critical. Most individuals who belong to religious orders were motivated at the outset by their impulse to generosity and are sustained by their special relation-ship with God. By serving those with absolute human need, sis-ters, brothers, and religious priests will dedicate themselves to a high-cost, high-commitment life in communities that can be wit-nesses to Jesus Christ and the gospel. E Historical/Theological Monograph Because it is important also to understand the findings of the study from both historical and theological perspectives, the researchers commissioned a theological/historical monograph. Elizabeth Johnson CSJ, PhD, of Fordham University, will write a theological monograph focusing on religious life since the Second Vatican Council. John W. Padberg SJ, PhD, of Saint Louis University, will provide a historical postscript to her work. This work, projected for completion in 1993, will add perspective to the wealth of information collected, analyzed, and evaluated in this research effort. IV. Conclusions:Shaping the Future of Religious Life If religious life is to continue to be a vital force in the church and the world, the FORUS study concludes that dramatic changes must occur in most religious congregations in the United States. Fidelity to the spirit of the founder and responsiveness to critical and unmet human needs are basic to the ongoing mission of reli-gious communities. Yet, while individual examples abound, only in limited ways have religious acted collectively to address absolute human needs, new forms of poverty, and demands that seemingly outstrip the capacity of any group to respond. Vatican II called religious to a return to the "spirit of the founder." While most congregations have engaged in much study and have made great efforts to move in this direction, the absence of corporate commitment to meeting currently unmet needs in the light of gospel imperatives stands in contrast to the collective vision and action inspired by God that marked the birth of most apostolic, monastic, and contemplative congregations. Religious 42 Revieva for Religious life as a social institution in United States society is at a crossroads. To achieve a desired future, religious as a group as well as indi-viduals must confront the forces that currently restrain them and reinforce the dynamics that will allow them to be in fact respon-sive to absolute human need in accord with their particular charism. A future marked by significant revitalization will emerge for congregations that--in union with God, in fidelity to their founding purpose, and in response to absolute human need--confront the current gap between the gospel and the culture. The research concludes with an equation of sorts, depicted in Figure 2 below, that can be applied to all con-gregational traditions in vary-ing degrees. The interaction of eight critical factors in the context of personal and collec-tive conversion will move con-gregations from their current states to their desired futures. The research also concludes that for other groups the The absence of corporate commitment to meeting currently unmet needs in the light of gospel imperatives stands in contrast to the collective vision and action inspired by God that marked the birth of most apostolic, monastic, and contemplative congregations. restraints on advancement are severe and may lead to decline. What follows is a brief summary of the conclusions drawn from the various facets of the study. 1. Individualism and Vocation Since Vatican II, shifting paradigms of vocation and con-comitant cultural trends have deemphasized the distinctiveness of the religious life. The research suggests that the personal call to holiness given to all Christians in Lumen Gentium did in fact impact religious life and the understanding of the religious life. Religious feel somewhat ambivalent about their current state while at the same time celebrating the advances of the laity in the church since Vatican II. The age of experimentation in the church paral-leled vast cultural shifts in kanerican society towards individualism, cultural assimilation, and the democratization of all authority. ~anuary-February 1993 43 Nygren and Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life Futures Project Figure 2 Shaping the Future of Religious Life in the US Restraining Forces ~ lndividualisrn]~ ~Average Loadershipl_~ Aut"orit V'i

Issue 52.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1993. ; re lig oIJS C~stian Heritages and: Contemporary Living MARCH-APRIL 1993 . VOLUME 52' ¯ NUMBER 2 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 ~.Vashington, 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 $ l 5 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. 01993 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 Wolski Corm PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH-APRIL 1993 " VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 2 contents 166 feature Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Mary Linscott SNDdeN clarifies the interrelati6nship of leader-ship, authority, and religious government in the development of religious life up to the present. 194 202 213 220 226 evangelizing The Meaning of Evangelization Today Janice McLaughlin MM suggests that in the light of her experi-ence in Africa evangelization involves us in a process of change and choices which turn us upside down. Broken African Pots and a Mission Spirituality Mario I. Aguilar SVD proposes that African pottery making pro-vides a model that fits our need for spiritual fulfillment and the j3resence of God in our lives. aging in christ A Spirituality of Aging Michael D. Moga SJ invites the elderly to explore a spirituality well suited for their final years. Soul Making and Life's Second Half Anne Brennan CSJ and Janice Brewi CSJ encourage people in mid-life and beyond to open themselves to the fullness of their inner lives. Life Review, Families, and Older Religious James J. Magee DSW offers a model of life review for older reli-gious to modify their own anxiety in the face of family issues and to help other family members also to work with the issues. 162 Review for Religious 236 238 241 living religiously Hope in Loneliness James Martin SJ searches the emptiness of loneliness and finds space for God and others. Thoughts from Death and Life Vera Gallagher RGS offers a personal reflection on dealing with a serious diagnosis of illness. May I Love You, Lord John Patrick Donnelly SJ provides the first English translation of a psalm-prayer composed by the fifteenth-century Dominican Girolamo Savonarola. 247 259 275 283 visioning religious life Galile£n Perspectives on Religious Life Anne Hennessy CSJ suggests that the sometimes blurred focus on the person and message of Jesus Christ can be helped by a Galilean perspective. Religious Life in Nigeria Today Mary Gerard Nwagwu gives a summary picture of the various forms and influences of consecrated life now common in Nigeria and their influence on society. I Have Kept Faith: Clare of Assisi Karen Karper PCPA highlights some incidents in Clare's spiritual growth and the approval of her religious rule of life. report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1992 Kenneth Davis OFM Cony reviews the various events and writings in the Catholic Hispanic experience. departments 164 Prisms 304 Canonical Counsel: Common Life 311 Book Reviews March-April 1993 163 prisms a~tican Council II is frequently described as a watershed event in the history of the Catholic Church. Certainly through our eyes now and even in its actual hap-pening the council was one of those precious creative moments which take place randomly, but consistently, in our human affairs. Just as consistently, creative moments are followed by a period of consolidation. A common example (perhaps too easily caricatured) from the history of religious life is the creative action of St. Francis of Assisi in calling forth his gospel-based mendicant group and the later consolidation efforts of Brother Elias to establish solidly this ideal in a lasting community form. Some would term the present period in the Roman Catholic milieu a period of consolidation. As evidence they would point to the promulgation of the Codes of Canon Law for both the Latin Church (replacing the first Code of 1917) and the Eastern Churches (the first for-mulation of a Code). The publication of the new Universal Catechism is another piece of evidence for a consolida-tion movement. With the 1994 Synod of Bishops sched-uled to consider consecrated life, there appears to be a completing of the review of all the groupings which make up the People of God. Consolidation periods lack the euphoria and excite-ment of the creative moments, but they are just as impor-tant if life is to keep its direction and to flourish. We may have a fear of consolidation movements because they seem to represent a rigidity and to forebode an age-long immutability. Others of us may too readily desire consol-idation as a way of returning to the way things were, of rejecting a certain period of time as an aberration. 164 Review for Religio~s Consolidation, after a period of creativity, is meant neither to set in stone the present reality nor to throw aside recent history and return to a fixated tradition. Consolidation is meant much more to be a plateau where gains and losses are assessed, directional lines reviewed and discerned anew, and energies replenished for the continued journey forward of this pilgrim people. Although we have frequently used the word transition to cap-ture these times for our church and for religious life, perhaps more pointedly we might now use the word consolidation. For example, the FORUS study published in our last issue provides religious life with a consolidation document. Religious groups would be using it without serious thought or reflection if they were to reject the legitimate and church-expected experiments of these past decades. Consolidation works only when there have been some creative moments preceding. Without creative moments, life--any life, religious or other--weakens and faces death. That continues to happen to lifeforms throughout our planet and, more pointedly, may be happening to some religious congregations at this time. On the other hand, without consoli-dation creative moments are only ephemeral and their energies dissipate to exhaustion. Consolidation is necessary for true growth and sure direction in continuing the movement so that we can focus our energies for the New Evangelization of our time. Consolidation remains just as necessary on the micro as on the macro stage, that is, in our everyday life as well as in the large-scale reflections which we have been making about religious con-gregations. Too often we can pass by the efforts necessary for a consolidation review in our own individual-lives and our living together. Why do we live the way we do, why do we do the works we do? How is this related to my and our love of Jesus Christ and what does it have to say about the evangelizing quality of my and our works? These simple questions are necessary as we look towards the solid future of religious life. David L. Fl.eming SJ Marcb-Atrril 1993 165 MARY LINSCOTT Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government feature More than twenty years ago, in 1969 and 1970, I attended two meetings in St. Louis which were a turning point in the history of the Conference of Major Superiors of Women in the United States. Various developments ensued, one of them being a change of name from Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW) to Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR). In this case the rose by another name did not immediately smell as sweet. The then Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes (SCRIS), which had to approve the change, was reluctant to do so on the ground that it involved more than a matter of simple terminol-ogy. The Language and the Reality For the congregation, "major superiors" and "leader-ship" were not synonymous terms; the use of the one for Sister Mary Linscott SNDdeN is a former superior general of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur and a former president of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG). She has worked in the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL). This article is the somewhat shortened text of a talk which she gave in April 1992 to English-speaking superiors and councilors general in Rome and which appeared originally in UISG Bulletin 89. 166 Review for Religious the other could create confusion and even lead to changes of a more ~ubstantial kind, notwithstanding the likelihood that the sisters intended the words to denote the same reality. (We have to bear in mind that the change of name for the conference in the Uiaited States coincided with the reaction against authority which followed the special chapters of renewal and with the beginning of considerable modifications in the structures of religious gov-ernmerit. Moreover, the national conferences [or councils or unions] mandated by Perfectae Caritatis §23 and Ecclesiae Sanctae §42 and §43 were to be of major superiors, both for men and for women.) At all events, SCRIS felt that the substitution of "lead-ership" for "major superiors" could raise problems in an area where clarity was needed. Pc mission for the change came only after long reflection and on condition that the interpretation of the name was in accord with the provisions and intention of the Second Vatican Council. After twenty years the use of the word leadership in documents other than constitutions and directories has become quite widespread. We are used to headlines in our congregational pub-lications: "Province X Elects New Leadership" or "A Report from General Leadership." In some institutes "leadership group" has replaced "team" to denote sisters serving according to the con-stitutions at different levels of government. The usage seems to be mainly in the English-speaking world. Unless the word leaders is ~dopted without translation, as it is occasionally by French- or Spanish-speaking sisters, the concept which it expresses is usu-ally paraphrased or simply implied. For historical reasons the Italians avoid duce and the Germans fiibrer. The French always have responsable to fall back on. In English writing, however, there is a rather frequent use of leader and leadership. Over the years, what has happened to SCRIS's initial diffi-culty about religious institutes' use of the word leadership? A first remark ~hould be, I think, that the distinction of meaning made after 1970 still obtains. Leadership is a charism, a spiritual real-ity given freely by God to individuals for some special purpose in a community; authority in religious institutes is a canonico-juridi-cal as well as a spiritual reality. The two, therefore, are not syn-onymous and not interchangeable. Second, there has been a period in which popular writing and parlance about religious life have tended to avoid the word authority. Instead the term leadership was used but given much of the content that belongs to author- March-April 1993 167 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government ity. This produced some confusion that weakened religious gov-ernment at all levels, but especially the local. In a third phase, more recently, we have had a certain clarification along this line: that, while leadership and religious authority are indeed different and distinct, they do not have to be in conflict, and in fact both are needed for good government. In this clarification some understandings have emerged which I will use for the purposes of this paper. With regard to leadership, wider and more immediate communications, the influence of the international institutes, and the cumulative effects of structural renewal have all helped to bring out the .concept of leadership as a personal gift in its own right. It is a charism expressed in per-sonal qualities which inspire respect, trust, following, sometimes enthusiasm. Since it depends on the qualities of a person, lead-ership is an enduring gift, not something assumed for a certain time and laid down at the end of a mandate. It is not conferred or limited by constitutions, and it cannot be legislated. It does not go with any given responsibility, and in itself it is no more account-able than any other charism. It derives, not from external cir-cumstances, but from inner sources, and it is linked much more with what a person is than with what she does. Leadership is found in many spheres other than government. It exists quite apart from authority. At the same time, the lengthening experience of renewal and the revision of the constitutions have pointed up the need for other elements besides leadership for the effective running of a religious congregation: functional government structures and clearly invested religious authority are essential. Religious author-ity, like that of the Lord from which it ultimately derives, involves a certain power, but it is power as service and for the sake of the mission. Such authority goes with the vow of obedience and is conferred for the achievement of the goals of the congregation: the spread of the gospel in and through the unity, growth, and service of the sisters. Necessary for the religious institute as a human organization, religious authority is also ecclesial in that it derives from constitutions approved by the church. Since it is attached to an office, it is an authority of status. It is given for a specified period to persons duly appointed or elected within the limits of the constitutions and church law. Religious authority has to be accountable. It is personal but not exercised in isola-tion. It can be legislated and must be provided for constitution- 168 Re~iew for Religious ally. It is assumed on a specified date and is laid down at the end of a mandate. It relates to what a person does and to what her responsibilities are, rather than to what she is in herself. Of itself it neither confers nor presupposes leadership, though leadership qualities are obviously desirable in a sister exercising authority. Government is a matter of duly chosen individuals inspiring, directing, and admin-istering with a.uthority the affairs of a con-gregation according to its spirit and sound traditions and according to church law and its own. Of itself government gives a lead, and in a religious congregation it is a con-crete expression of the charism acting to attain the congregation's purpose. I would say that these recent clarifications are helpful. Leadership, authority, and government are now seen as distinct from each other but closely .related in complementarity and all of them necessary for the healthy functioning of religious life. There are difficulties only when they are confused with each other, when one or other of them is not working properly, or when any of them tends to dominate the remaining two. I propose to look at the three elements in interrelation from two different angles. The first is historical. As phenomena in reli-gious life, leadership, authority, and government have come into being at different times in response to different needs, and in the course of history they have had different emphases. A look at their roots and evolution may help us to see better where we are at present with regard to them and may give us some ideas for future direction. The second angle is contemporary. Later in this article I will share with you what a surv4y of sixty approved con-stitutions seems to tell about leadership, authority, and govern-ment in congregations across the world today. The two angles will bring together the past and the present in view of the future. Where does religious government come from? The Phenomenon Where does religious government come from? Perfectae Caritatis §2a says: "Since the final norm of the religious life is the following of Christ as it is put before us fn the gospel, this must be taken by all institutes as the supreme rule" (see canon 662). It was the desire to follow Christ with greater liberty and to Marcb-/lpril 1993 169 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government imitate him more closely that prompted men and women from very early times to practice, in various ways, the evangelical coun-sels (see PC §1) and thus live the gospel radically. As the great persecutions of the early church came to an end, many persons gave gospel witness by withdrawing into the desert and under-taking heroic acts of self-denial and penance as a substitute for martyrdom. Their life was a combat with the forces of evil, whose last stronghold was the wilderness. The call was often solitary, but among those who sought God in the desert there were inevitably some who were experienced and some who were begin-ners, renowned persons and those who were unknown, persons sought out for advice and guidance and those who still had a lot to learn. Without any structure, when there was as yet no orga-nization that required formal authority and government, a kind of leadership based on competence, personal qualities, and experience in the ways of the Lord brought into being some very personal relations between teachers and disciples. The earliest elements of religious leadership may be here: persons together seeking God's will and ways, with the gifts of the one at the service of the other and both persons helped towards the fullness of a Christian vocation. The living of the gospel was still the supreme goal and rule when, in the face of the decline of the desert type of life and because of the changes brought about by the barbarian invasions of western Europe and northern Africa, people grouped together in a more stable manner. Once there was grouping, some kind of agreement, however simple and loose, was necessary for order and peace. In this is the first seed of religious government. Humanly speaking, there would be leaders for the sake of unity if for no other reason. Once grouping was a stable way of life, the leader would usually be the one who founded the group, who accepted followers to form the group, and who contributed most to shaping its way of gospel living by example, prayer, teaching, and organization. It would be up to that person to ensure fidelity to the accepted way of life, to lead in the deepening of spiritual values, to give direction, to ensure viability. Everything would be geared to the gospel as the purpose of the group's existence, )nd the founder would lead in virtue of an authority of competence recognized by the members and by the church. This stable way of life affected the church both locally and universally. The stability of vows, the public witness of life, 170 Review for Religious required contacts with church authorities, especially the local bishop. There had to be the possibility of representation. Moreover, basic though the gospel was, no founder ever felt it sufficient simply to put the gospel text into the hands of his or her religious. The way of living out the gospel in any given congre-gation was expressed in a rule or constitutions usually drawn up by the founder and always approved by the church. The fact of liv-ing vowed life together, therefore, created human, ecclesial, and theological conditions that required the service of some member or members to the others in a way that fostered spiritual values, unity, fidelity to the founding bond and spirit, discernment of direction, links with the church, correction, spiritual and material provision, viability. Such responsibilities could not be undertaken without some kind of authority within the group itself. We there-fore find the elements of religious government coming into being as founders, who by the fact of founding showed qualities of lead-ership, accepted the responsibility of directing their religious fam-ily and each of its members towards the agreed-upon goal of the gospel by a service of authority recognized by the church. This service of authority was still needed in succeeding gen-erations, and for the same reasons as those which first prompted it. Once the founding generation was gone, however, the choice of members who would exercise authority was less obvious. It was not that there were no religious who had the competence, but rather that none had the unique claim of the founder. Loyalty, support, and obedience were given to the member who was duly elected or appointed to exercise authority, and with that there came into being an authority that could be apart from that of competence: an ex officio authority derived from role or status. The Evolution before the 19th Century All this needed considerable time to evolve, and it took on different patterns and structures according to the different charisms which it expressed. Moreover, it developed as new forms of religious life came into being to meet the needs of successive times. The first appearance of religious in the form of monks and monasteries was a spontaneous phenomenon in the church, a free action of the Holy Spirit, but by the 5th century their random multiplication had become such a problem that the Council of March-April 1993 171 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Chalcedon (451) established the requirement of episcopal per-mission for the founding of a monastery and made monks subject to bishops. It was recognized, however, that the community of monasticism required a certain independence in internal matters. Religious government, therefore, came to have two aspects, inter-nal and external, both involving authority. Over a long period the image of episcopal authority, which of its nature is hierarchical in the church, to some extent colored that of religious authority. Certainly the balance between the degree of freedom necessary for internal affairs and the submission to the bishop, which was equally necessary for the good of the local church, was a feature of canonical legislation for religious for centuries. The great founders and reformers somehow found ways to handle both the internal and external relations of religious government. Internally, St. Benedict, father of western monasticism, respected the whole community and united it around the abbot under the discipline of the Rule. Authority, leadership, and government came together harmoniously in his provisions. Externally, in centuries after his own, there were problems over necessary relations with bishops and civil rulers. When Benedict's work was refounded in the Cluniac and Cistercian reforms, Cluny managed to be subject neither to king nor to bishop. It was one of the first of a system of exemptions by which the evolution of religious life was handled. After the desert and the monasteries, both of which types of religious life continue today, a third period with new needs was that of the mendicants. Here the pattern of life was no longer the stability and close unity of the monastery, but instead the diverging travels of friars who went about preaching the good news, begging their way, and giving to the poor. They belonged to a more fluid community often located in a town that had been revitalized either by a growing medieval university or by the com-merce that followed the Crusades. In pursuit of the same gospel ideal as the monks and the desert dwellers, the mendicants orga-nized their lives differently. They did not have stability in Benedict's sense. Their forms of leadership and government had to suit their kind of public witness and the flexibility of their out-reach. The religious whose authority and responsibility for the whole group would parallel those of Benedict's abbot were sig-nificantly given different and suggestive names: guardian for the Franciscans and prior for the Dominicans. With the age of discovery and reform, new forms of religious 172 Review for Religious life, those of the apostolic orders, were the response of the Holy Spirit to the mission opportunities in newly discovered conti-nents and to the theological and educational needs nearer home. Religious life in the Latin church, still very much a European phenomenon, needed people like Francis Xavier, Jean de Br~beuf, and Junipero Serra to carry it to India, Japan, and the Americas. This out-reach in itself was a challenge to structures of government. The pio-neer missionaries were often at great distances from their original commu-nities. They were inevitably few, at least at the beginning, yet they were an important growing point of the institutes to which they belonged. They needed good leadership quali-ties themselves and a considerable del-egation of authority. The kind of religious government that was strong primarily at the local level did not really match their gift. There had to The Jesuits in their government heightened both leadership and authority and gave a new importance to what would henceforth become general-level administration. be support from a higher level where the overview of everything could unify the various local endeavors and thereby achieve a par-ticular witness to Christ. Not by coincidence is the general supe-rior of the Jesuits called the praepositus. Exempt from immediate episcopal control so as to be free for papal mandates, the succes-sors of St. Ignatius had to combine leadership by competence, which was vital, with the authority to inspire and administer a far-flung apostolic enterprise while strengthening the service given in pastoral, social, and academic fields in Europe. The Jesuits in their government heightened both leadership and authority and gave a new importance to what would henceforth become general-level administration. The Evolution after 1800 With the cataclysm of the French Revolution came various needs which were met by the most recent type of organized reli-gious life: institutes dedicated to works of the apostolate. Although by no means all of these are for sisters, the period since the Marcb-April 1993 173 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Napoleonic Concordat of 1802 has been marked by an extraor-dinarily high proportion of women's foundations. It is on these that I now focus. Very many institutes of sisters came into being as the response of the Spirit to the needs created by the industrial revolution, the successive waves of emigration from Europe to the new world, the opening up of Africa and Asia, and the series of revolutions which swept Europe from 1789 to 1848. They were founded not only to live the gospel themselves and to witness to it in a society that was mainly one of believers, as many previous religious had done, but also to be Christ the teacher or healer or shepherd or apostle of the Father, in ways specified by their founding gifts, in a society which was increasingly post-Christian and material-ist. Their vocation was apostolic, and the government they needed had to provide for apostolic mobility, with its requirement of cen-tralization as well for effectiveness at scattered locations as for unity and corporate direction throughout. They needed their own internal authority. As for leadership, it became clear as time went on that leadership gifts of many different kinds were required for the effective service of these institutes, particularly in areas of the apostolate which involved specialization. A new responsibility for sisters exercising authority was the fostering and harmonizing of these leadership gifts among the members for the unity of the whole and for better service in mission, even though in this case leadership was not related to government but to the apostolate. The governmental needs of the new institutes with regard to centralization and internal authority were not at first easily met. We have to remember that, during the century before 1901, sis-ters in institutes dedicated to apostolic works were technically not recognized by the church at all. It had been the ecumenical councils which determined and enunciated the church's provi-sions regarding religious life, and in the early 19th century the lat-est of these was still the Council of Trent. Trent had made a serious effort to tidy up a very complicated situation according to the signs of its own times. Three years after the close of the coun-cil, the decree Circa Pastoralis (1566) had stated the basic law of the church for religious, summarizing the canons of Lateran IV (1215), Lyons (1274), and Trent that referred to them. According to Circa Pa.storalis, religious were members of the church living a common life with solemn vows and cloister. All orders which were not exempt were subject to the local bishop. By 174 Review for Religious implication, therefore, members of groups which did not have solemn vows or which were not cloistered were not religious, and .they were subject to the local bishop without full internal reli-gious authority of their own because .they were not among the exempt orders. Institutes of sisters dedicated to apostolic work lived and served as religious, looked like religious, had the goals of religious, and gave the witness of religious while having sim-ple vows, little or no cloister, and a different way of living life in common from religious who were in accord with Circa Pastoralis. They needed an internal authority similar to that of the exempt congregations and for reasons like those of the apostolic orders. Actua.lly, the praxis of the church was ahead of its legislation in the 19th century, and both pontifical approval and the approval of several far-seeing bishops cleared the way for institutes of sisters. In 1900 Leo XIII, in Conditae a Christo, anticipated what was an evidently necessary change in church legislation~ He opened to religious groups with decrees of praise the formal right of cen-tralization under a superior general with real, personal authority throughout the institute. This recognized sisters in institutes ded-icated to works of the apostolate as re!igious in their own right: a third kind of entity with those conforming to Circa Pastorali's and with th~ exempt clerical orders. The recognition was' welcome, but it could not of itself erase the long experience of ambiguity, which was the only one that most institutes of sisters knew at first hand. Authority and gov-ernment were the issues on which the matter of recognition was solved, and both were associated with the image of the local bishop. Leo XIII followed up Conditae a Cbristo in 1901 with a set of norms which were a blueprint for the future Code of Canon Law (1917). The sisters updated their constitutions in the light of .,both documents; and, perhaps because in terms of religious life the autonomous government of institutes of sisters as a reality canon-ic~ lly recognized and supported was something relatively new, both a.uthority and government structures loomed large in the revisions. Great attention was given to new structures, especially those of provinces and general chapters; roles were spelled out in considerable detail. Time would bring out what this implied and how it would work out in practice. Of the three elements leader-ship, authority, and government, attention concentrated on the last two, which were concrete and could be legislated, even though the previous image many institutes had of them did not necessarily March-April 1993 175 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government reflect their founding charism, but was colored by the rightly hierarchical character of the authority of the local bishop. Leadership was either taken for granted or channeled into apos-tolic enterprises. These sociological traits be~zame even more marked as the pressures of works and of professionalism came to bear on institutes in the mid 1950s. The Situation after Vatican II Less than fifty years after the Code of 1917 came the mandate of the Second Vatican Council to renew religious life according to the criteria of the gospel, the founding charism, and the signs of the times and to revise constitutions and directories in accord with this renewal. To make sure that the renewal actuaily took place, every institute was to celebrate a special general chapter within a period of two or three years. The chapter had excep-tional authority for this one occasion and was to be prepared with the widest possible involvement of all members of the institute. In the case of sisters dedicated to works of the apostolate, the timing of the conciliar mandate was critical. It came at a histor-ically ripe moment. The educational movement of the 1950s, the communications explosion of the 1960s, the influence of the human sciences, the authority crisis, and the development of fem-inism were only some of the elements which affected the way in which sisters tried to reexamine totally a life which they had taken very much for granted. They worked under pressure of time, with no precedent, technically unprepared, but with very much good-will. Inevitably, the sisters went first for adaptations: concrete changes which could be seen to be done and where change was clearly necessary. These involved structures and processes, plan-ning, participation, the Vatican Council's principles of subsidiar-ity and coresponsibility, the insdtute's style of life, and a review of apostolic works and resources. As sisters came to grips with these things, new leaders of a charismatic or natural kind--"born lead-ers"-- began to emerge. Their competence might be a particular professional field or an ability to communicate or the capacity to articulate well a personal vision for the future of the institute or a good grasp of dynamics. Whatever their gift, these leaders often came to the fore at the expense of leadership based on authority and experience of government. The membership of general chap- 176 Review for Religious ters from 1967 onwards was of a different composition from those which went before, and the influences on government and author-ity were consequently different. There was less experience of gov-ernment and more creativity; less hard information and more "dreaming" in the positive sense; less his-tory and more sociology; less theology and more impact from the human sci-ences. It all needed to be balanced out if it was to produce good religious govern-ment. A time of struggle, confusion, and emotion, however, is not the best time for balancing, and the difficult 1970s and early 1980s did not allow time to evaluate objectively what was happening. Nor was it possible to have the distance necessary for objectivity. The individualism of the period produced leaders in plenty, but not a similar number of sisters willing to accept responsibility. At the same time, various forms and degrees of resistance to authority made religious government very difficult. Expectations were not clear, and it was far easier to raise questions than to find constructive responses. All the while, people were aware that the overall num-bers of sisters were declining, that departures were frequent, that needs were multiplying and not being met, and that religious life was a microcosm of a church and world which were also in flux and seeking their way. In all this how did leadership, authority, and government fare? They were much-discussed topics in renewal, and it is in the con-text of renewal that we have to see them. Renewal involves inter-nal change. It causes us to interiorize and make our own--here and now, as individuals and as communities--the teaching of Jesus as it is lived in accordance with the charism of our religious insti-tute. Renewal affects beliefs, relationships, values, commitment, attitudes, and zeal. It determines how we live and serve, and it involves a conversion that is corporate as well as personal. Being basically interior and spiritual, renewal cannot be brought about simply by legislation. It needs the example and personal influ-ence of leadership, which i~ of its nature an agent of internal change. But leadership in religious renewal has to be enabling, Being basically interior and spiritual, renewal needs the example and personal influence of leadership, which is of its nature an agent of internal change. Marcb-April 1993 177 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government helping sisters renew themselves and their institute by consis-tently proposing the gospel goal and ideal and by encouraging involvement, conviction, and commitment. Such enabling lead-ership is increasingly seen as necessary today. It is not in excess supply, for it requires an unusual blend of Christlike poverty of heart and inner freedom and at the same time strength, empa-thy, and clarity. It is ~ charism and, as such, cannot be conferred ex officio or be legislated as a predictable and controllable part of government. Yet without it even the most clear-cut exercise of legitimate authority does not succeed in changing fundamental attitudes and values, whatever it may do to outward forms. The very fact that leadership is neither predictable nor con-trollable from the point of view of legislation means that it needs a balance which can be predicted, controlled, and legislated. The balance is authority. In the years after the Second Vatican Council, the balance afforded by religious authority was significantly down-played, largely as reaction to the authoritarianism in the precon-ciliar years and also because of the trend towards greater participation. Pa~'ticipation, however, does not remove the need for authority, and authoritarianism is an abuse which can be reme-died without touching the principle o.f authority itself. If no chan-rlels of legitimate authority are provided, one of two things seems to happen: either (1) the group crumbles from within because there is no commonly acknowle.dged center, no one has respon-sibility at the corporate level, and each sister has to go her own way, interpreting her religious life to the best of her ability; or (2) some sister emerges as a leader without religious authority, either by fo.rce of con.viction or natural gifts or charism or plain per-sonal aggressiveness. In either case the important value of re!igious obedience gets lost. Yet it is through religious obedience that we understand religious authority, and it is the two of them together that create the unique relationship in which a properly autho-rized leader can enable sisters to grow, not in passivity and not in external adaptation only, but in an active collaboration which make~ for joy and greater fullness of life. Religious government, therefore, needs both leaders.hip and authority and needs them together. Authority wi'thout leadership can become an insecure and heavy-handed exercise of power. Leadership without authority can lack sound direction, responsi-bi! ity, and accountability," making for disturbance rather than for peaceful growth in the Lord. Structures of government somehow 178 Review for Religious have to harmonize the two. Authority is usually provided in struc-tures at general, provincial, and local levels that maintain personal authority balanced by councils, chapters, and assemblies according to particular traditions, and that indicate an unambiguous line of accountability. Leadership, which cannot be legislated so directly, is implied in statements about the charism, spirit, and vision of the institute, in the qualities required in sisters exercising author-ity, and in the details of responsibilities and job descriptions. Moreover, it has been characteristic of the structures of religious government that authority is not exercised in isolation, nor should it be exercised in a way that creates a gap between those exercis-ing authority and those accepting it. This last point is a matter of style rather than of structure and is as much a challenge for teams and groups, even when the respective responsibilities and rela-tions are well spelled out, as it is for individuals. The revision of constitutions has led to some solid rethinking in the whole area of leadership, authority, and government. As we have seen, the theme goes far back in the history of religious life, and the strands intertwine inextricably, like differently colored ply in a length of wool making a single thread. Sisters today are certainly clearer on the issues than they were at the turn of the 1970s. All the same, we are never free from the responsibility of asking ourselves: (I) Has the basic function of leadership, author-ity, and government in religious life changed? If it has, why? And to what? (2) Do our structures correspond to their purpose and function? Now I would like to share with you what some samples of recently revised and approved constitutions from different parts of the world have to say to us about leadership, authority, and government in religious life today. In the light of these concrete statements, I will afterwards pick up again the two questions I have just raised. Sampling Some Revised Constitutions During my period of service at the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL), about 1500 revised constitutions received their decrees of approval, and there have been a few more since then. Among this overwhelming amount of material, my only option was to take a sampling. I decided on five criteria of choice. March-April 1993 179 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government 1. My first criterion was to restrict myself to constitutions presented in English. There are more than enough of these to give a range of thought and experience, and I have the advantage of knowing them well and of having worked with many of the sisters who produced them. 2. My second criterion was to cover the different spiritual traditions in religious families, since these affect concepts and structures of government. I took sisters' constitutions deriving from the inspiration of the classic founders Alphonsus, Augustine, Benedict, Dominic, Francis, Ignatius, and Paul of the Cross. I also took some from the women's congregations that have a com-mon source of spirituality: Ursulines, Sisters of St. Joseph, Sisters of the Presentation, Sisters of Mercy, Sisters of Charity, Sisters of the Incarnate Word. I sampled as a further category congrega-tions with a strong and clear individual charism that are not notably indebted either to one of the major religious families of men or to other groups of sisters. 3. My third criterion was to cover a wide range of cultures, since these are important in the expression of values and princi-ples. The English-speaking world is notoriously extensive, and also some institutes present their texts in English either because this is an acceptable second language or because their principal growing points are in English-speaking areas outside their coun-try of origin. I ended up with constitutions from Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, England, France, Holland, India, Ireland, Malta, New Zealand, the Philippines, Rome, South Africa, and the United States of America. 4. A fourth criterion was to include a few constitutions of men religious by way of comparison. 5. Lastly, I included a random sampling of the remaining texts to a total of sixty constitutions. Fifty-five are by sisters and five by men religious: two clerical institutes and three of brothers. My observations are based on these sixty texts. Initial Impressions As one would expect of approved constitutions, on the subject of leadership, authority, and government, all the texts are canon-ically accurate inasmuch as they all harmonize with the present law of the church and with the values, principles, and basic structures deriving from their own previously approved founding charisms. 180 Review for Religious Yet no two are alike, and when I speak of a certain degree of com-monality I am not referring to common material or even to depen-dence on a common Code, but to a certain convergence of values and thinking across texts worked out independently and expressed with a great deal of diversity. Convergence. The highest degree of convergence is in the impor.tance attached to authority in regard to both government and leadership. In almost every case, whether the actual words are used or not, there is the idea that authority is to be exercised in government by sisters with qualities of leadership. The three elements go together, and it is authority that links the other two. There is a high degree of convergence also on the source of reli-gious authority being ultimately God himself and on the spirit of service which marks its exercise. Jesus Christ, whether as shep-herd, servant, son, or savior, is the model for the kind of exer-cise of authority in leadership that should characterize religious government. This spiritual level is usually clear and well expressed with a direct application to unity and mission. Areas of Diversity. The convergences are not bland, because there is no uniformity in the concrete provisions that express the converging values and principles. Each institute has not only its own founding gift, but also its own living tradition and experience, its own "now," and its own vision of the future. So, for example, even institutes which have the Rule of St. Augustine or that of the Franciscan Third Order Regular or the Constitutions of St. Ignatius as part of their proper law will have their own ways of incorporating these in concrete enactments. A good deal can be inferred, therefore, from the way in which the principles of government are actually spelled out. There are nuances about authority, leadership, and government to be found in the job descriptions given for moderators at the different lev-els, in the qualities and priorities looked for in those who will be responsible for government, in provisions for a particular style of operation, or in the way that responsibility and accountability are handled. Relationships and structures are the other areas with rich implications. The way in which a text expresses the com-bined responsibility of the membership and the various sisters in authority for the well-being of the institute is also instructive. So are the relations and interaction of moderators and councils and of both with chapters. Something can be learned from the way that the material on March-April 1993 181 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government authority and government is organized and presented. Some con-stitutions begin with people, some with types of norm; some begin with the whole entity of the institute as the body expressing the corporate charism and recognized as such by the church, some with the rights and responsibilities of the individual sister. Most start at the general level, since this avoids having to repeat and anticipate, but some begin with the local level. Perhaps the most revealing thing is terminology. If we raised our eyebrows in 1983 over the Code's use of"moderator," it was only because we had not yet realized our own creativity in find-ing names for those who were once uniformly referred to as supe-riors and for the sisters who work immediately with them. All the constitutions I studied were approved between September 1982 and May 1991. In them I met superiors, abbesses, prioresses, directors, facilitators, coordinators, sisters-in-charge, guardians, custodians, mothers, moderators, ministers, and presidents. These are helped and advised by councils, cabinets, government groups, boards, teams, and assistants and are accountable to assemblies, senates, and chapters. When the substance of all these is actually spelled out in terms of purpose, function, authority, and account-ability, there may not be any great difference at present between one reality and another. I have a strong sense, however, of dif-ference in climate and general approach between sisters who are superiors with a council responsible to a general chapter and sis-ters who are presidents with a cabinet responsible to a senate. What is denoted is similar, but the connotations are different, and it remains to be seen where that will take us. Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government in the Texts First of all, let me say that the three concepts, though they are present in each of the sixty texts, are not always specifically named. Neither do they receive equal emphasis. Authority gets by far the most attention, even in the two constitutions where the writers did not use the word itself. Government also gets pretty full treat-ment, especially in the abstract, and texts which reflect some reluctance to say that a moderator governs will spell out for her a number of responsibilities which are clearly those of govern-ment. Leadership is stressed much less. The word rarely occurs except in phrases such as "the general moderator is the leader of the congregation" or "the sister chosen as the general moderator 182 Review for Religious should have qualities of leadership." Leadership in its ordinary sense, however, is very often implied, and the spiritual role of leadership is clear. Religious Government and Authority. Statements about gov-ernment alone are usually clear and often pithy. They tend to ~pecify purpose: "Government in the eongregation provides structures and offices that facilitate our common life and ministry by ordering relat!onsh'ips and designating the functions of the members" (U.S.A.). "Governance is the means through which the resources of the congregation are unified, directed, and integrated" (U.S.A.). More subjec-tively descriptive but still purposeful is a' statement such as this: "Government is an experience in relationships, in deci-sion making, and in communication. Through itwe strive together to seek and do God's will" (Rome). From England comes the observation, that government is par.t of any organized society and that, in the case of rel!gious, it maintains the inspiration, nature, and purpose of an institute as living reali-ties. Most of the provision for government follows statements on authority which place its source in God o1: in Jesus Christ and which distinguish it from other kinds of personal power: :'Christ's authority given him by the Father was clearly .distinct in its exer-cise from the authority of the rulers of this world who lord it over their subjects," says an Irish text. "Christ expressed his authority in loving service: to heal, to forgive, to give life, to send in mis-sion." Some texts underline the ecclesial dimension: "Authority is given by God to the church, and it is from the church that the congregation receives its recognition as a religious institute and therefore a share in the authority of Christ" (England). "Authority in our institute is of an ecclesial nature and should reflect the self-g!ving of our divine master" (Philippines). "God is the source of all authority, but in working out his plan he asks for our coop-eration" (England). Some constitutions refer authority directly I have a strong sense, however, of difference in climate and general approach between sisters who are superiors with a council responsible to a general chapter and sisters who are presidents with a cabinet responsible to a senate. March-April 1993 183 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government The model of religious authority is, without exception, Jesus Christ. to superiors and chapters, but at least one broadens it to this: "From Jesus, proclaimed in the gospel, the authority of the . . . congregation, mediated and affirmed through the church, resides in the communion of its members according to their respective roles" (U.S.A.). The model of religious authority is, without exception, Jesus Christ, "the master who made himself servant in order that those he served might share his life and mission and that they in their turn might minister to others" (England). "Evangelical author-ity," says a congregation based in Rome, "is service which reflects the humility and self-giving of Jesus." Another one says: "Authority is founded on Christ, who received it from the Father and who came as one who serves. The example and teaching of Christ inspire sisters in positions of authority and all of us to serve as he did" (Rome). From Austria comes this statement: "In a religious con-gregation, the only model of authority is Jesus." The same arti-cle goes on to say, "Being a Marian congregation, all authority should reflect the gentleness and motherliness of our blessed Mother." This unanimously affirmed source and model determines to a great extent what the constitutions have to say about the nature of religious authority, what it requires, what it extends to, and how it is exercised. The question "What is it?" is variously answered: "It is a service meant to help the sisters discern and accomplish God's will" (U.S.A.). "It is a ministry of service which has as its object the fostering of unity in our diversity and the promotion of our mission in the life and work of the church" (England). "It helps us incarnate the vision of our founder in our time and to go forward together in the same spirit towards the same end" (Canada). Unity, mission, identity, and the discerning of God's will recur constantly as themes of response to the ques-tion "What is religious authority?" or "What is it all about?" It is interesting that the attempts to define authority as principle, which tied some of the renewal chapters in knots in the late 1960s, have been abandoned in the approved constitutions. There is no dictionary definition but rather a description, or an inference from needs and consequences, which is concrete rather' than the- 184 Reviev~ for Religions oretical. It expresses a basic principle, however, and links it with government, charisms, obedience, and leadership. This principle is nearly always taken from the standpoint of faith. What is required for the exercise of religious authority is expressed in terms of values, attitudes, qualities, and relation-ships. Sisters exercising authority do so for the sake of unity, wit-ness, effective corporate service, the growth of their sisters towards the fullness of Christ, and the building of the kingdom of God (Belgium, France, South Africa, U.S.A.). They are asked to be unifiers, animators, discerners, listeners (England, Holland, Ireland). The qualities looked for in a good superior at whatever level are instructive. In these texts there is much less of the utopi-anism that characterized the early 1970s and scared away many a good potential superior by requiring a combination of qualities which an archangel would have had a hard time meeting. The requirements now are geared to a more realistic perception. "A sis-ter who exemplifies the spirit and life of our congregation" (India) is a requirement which recurs fairly often and which applies to religious Pope Paul VI's observation that the people of our time respond better to example than to theory. "A woman of prayer and faith, close to God in her personal life" is also often mentioned. Then come the personality traits: compassion, courage, vision, love for the institute and for the sis-ters, practical intelligence; then the qualities that relate specifically to the exercise of authority: perceptiveness, good judgment, patience, balance, firmness, experience of life, and the capacity to listen, to collaborate, and to decide. It is noticeable that recently approved constitutions take it for granted that the qualities of those exercising authority need to be complemented and com-pleted by those of their immediate collaborators and by the sisters at large. Hence the importance of relationships, not only in the sense of personal relations--as, for example, between a superior and her councilors or with her sisters--but also in the deeper sense of the necessary interrelation of authority and obedience for the common project, or in "the sense that all the sisters in their various ways are responsible for the good of the institute. "There can be no community among us," says one text, "unless our com-mon life and mission are governed by deliberations and decisions that draw us all towards a u.nity of thought, sentiment, and action. To those deliberations and decisions we are all obligated as reli-gious pledged to obedience--both to contribute and to respond" March-April 1993 185 Linscott ¯ Leader'sbip; Authority, and Religious Government (U.S.A.). A text from England sees sisters serving in authority as "challenging each sister to fidelity in our shared spirit and charism so that our way of prayiiag, living, and working together may be fruitful for burselves and for others." This kind of statement car-ries religious authority beyond the juridical limits of the consti-tfitions and church law according to which it is exercised and into the realm of th~ basic values of religious life for which it is given. Principies foi" the exercise of religious ~iuthority receive more attention in recently approved ,constitutions than in preceding texts, where they tended to be taken for granted. As early as 1966, Ecdesiae Sanctae provided for "an ample and free consultatiofi of all [the religious in an institute]" in the preparation of the special general chapter of renewal (ES §4), and this basic concept of par- ~igipation echoes in practically every text. One document puts it like this: "Since the Holy Spirit works in all, we encourage the active pai:dcipation of each in the decision-making process within the community and the congregation. Our acceptance of respon-sibility for implementing the decisions made is a source of unity among us" (U.S.A.). Participation is seeh as a source of mutual support (India) and is meant to further the aims and goals of the congregation (U.S.A.). More specific than participation as a gen-eral principle is participative government which, according to one text, "includes these elements fundamental to government struc-tures: sl~ared responsibility, subsidiarity, accountability" (U.S.A.). These last three principles, together with the need for commu-nication, are mentioned in practically all tiae constitutions stud-ied and directly reflect the influence of Vatican II. The American text just quoted says that shared responsibility, subsidiarity, and ac6ountability are fundamental to government structures. In one' way, such structures exist to make religiofis authority effective: They channel authority and locate it, limit it, and focus it. They are, therefore, very specific to each institute, reflecting as they do its charism and traditibns, it~ circumstances and its cultures. The connection.wii:h charism is usually evident. Congregations whose founding gift requires a stable way of life in the sense of a fair amount of residential stability and a good deal of authority at the local level will have structures that allow for decentralization and immediate participation. Congregations whose founding gift requires apostolic mobility will have more centralized general structures if things are to work well, and par-ticipation in matters beyond the local level will often be limited i 86 Review for Religious to elected representatives. For example, three congregations in the Benedictine tradition from three different continents all have structures which move solidly from the individual sister to cor-porate unity. Two institutes strongly in the Ignatian tradition begin with the need for someone "who holds the charge of the entire body of the society and whose duty is the good government, preser-vation, and development of the whole body" (Ireland). Here the starting point is the superior general. Most institutes lie on an arc somewhere between these two. The fact is that structures, all of which are approved as adequate in their provisions for government, can be as varied as the charisms they reflect. Circumstances diversify them still further, for there are bound to be dif-ferences in structures of government between an institute many of whose sis-ters are centered in one house Structures, all of which are approved as adequate in their provisions for government, can be as varied as the charisms they reflect. (England), an institute whose sisters are in small houses near to each other (Belgium), and an institute whose members are widely scattered across vast areas in the prairies of the United States or the outback of Australia. Cultures, too, certainly affect structures and in particular the way in which structures are regarded. Institutes of the same reli-gious family and with a good deal of common tradition keep adapting their structures differently according as they are in Australia, Canada, Rome, or the United States. The European texts lay stress on the persons who exercise authority, their qual-ities, responsibilities, soundness of judgment, relation to others, accountability. There is an underlying element of trust and need to support, and an implication that, given the right persons, things cannot go too far wrong even if the structures themselves are less than perfect. This, however, is not an excuse for poor structures. The structural provisions are generally good. The Indian texts have greater structural detail, but still a considerable stress on the person. Some of the American texts, however, are very strong on structure, almost as if good structure of government could protect an institute from any kind of abuse of power. This is by no means a universal feature of texts from. the United States, but March-April 1993 187 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government where it occurs the structures are given in great detail, there is generally a system of checks and balances, a high proportion of the whole text is devoted to government, and there is not very much about the kind of sister looked for to exercise authority. In an extreme case, there is no more than the bare juridical require-ments. Again, between the two extremes, there is a wide range across the sixty texts. Each of them has been approved in its own right. The only point I make here is that, beyond the influence of charism and of apostolic circumstances, governmental structures for the exercise of religious authority are affected to some extent by culture. This has its own repercussion, of course, in interna-tional congregations. Religious Authority and Leadership. That the duty of leading is an aspect of government and that religious authority is given for this purpose is clear in most of the constitutions. "Those who hold authority in the institute have the right and responsibility to lead it in fidelity to its spirit and mission," says a text from Australia. There are also many references to general and local superiors being leaders of the whole institute or of the local com-munity respectively. What this leadership consists in emerges from the qualities looked for in a superior: "A woman of faith, discretion, and courage, she cultivates a spirit of availability and openness. A woman of compassion and understanding, she inspires, unifies, directs. A woman of fidelity, she fosters a response to the church and the world in accord with our charism. She is responsible for creating an atmosphere conducive to the spiri-tual, intellectual, and affective growth of each member, and she should show more concern for the Holy Spirit and for persons than for structures as such and for the letter of the law" (U.S.A.). This pastoral approach reappears in very many texts. Superiors lead by what they are and what they do: "She is steward of our way of life., of the heritage and mission of the congregation and of the gifts of each sister . She leads by her example, teaching, and decisions . . . and she exercises her authority with pastoral con-cern" (Australia). If the superior is expected to have leadership qualities, they are of a Christlike kind and facilitate her free and simple exercise of authority. One constitutional text notes that, when this is the case, the leadership qualities in the sisters are also fostered. "The right exercise of authority encourages each sister to become that per-son whom the Father called in Christ. The superior is confident 188 Review for Religious that the Spirit who creates diversity is able by his loving influ-ence to preserve union of mind and heart among the sisters. In this encouraging atmosphere, the graces of our baptism and religious vocation give rise to a number of leadership qualities among the sisters, all contributing to the vitality of community and the ful-fillment of our mission in the church" (U.S.A.). The role of authority in its pas-toral leading then becomes the encourage-ment and harmonizing of the leadership gifts in the community. This very fact points out the distinc-tion between the authority to lead that is vested in one person with assistance from others and the leadership gifts that can be in any community member. The two are not the same and are usually distinguished when they appear in constitutions. For example, we have from Australia: "The superior exercises her authority according to the spirit and laws of our congregation. In giving leadership, she encourages the participation of all the members," and from the United States: "The community min-ister is the canonical leader and unifier of the congregation. She has authority and responsibility for spiritual and apostolic lead-ership." If the kind of leadership expected of sisters in authority is implied in the qualities desired for eligibility, the direction of that leadership is usually implicit in their functions. At the general level, a superior "unifies in charity, urges fidelity to the gospel and to the constitutions; calls individuals and groups to core-sponsibility and account; keeps abreast of movements in the church and in society; enunciates goals and priorities as a com-munity in mission; focuses the corporate nature of our life and mission; and serves in various representative and governmental capacities" (U.S.A.). At the local level she serves the action of the Holy Spirit who is forming the community from within into a single body for the building of the kingdom (Canada). In texts from Malta, India, the Philippines, and New Zealand, too, this is spelled out in terms of animation, administration, and forma-tion. The role of authority in its pastoral leading then becomes the encouragement and harmonizing of the leadership gifts in the community. March-April 1993 189 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Relig4ous Government The ideal would seem to be that a sister who exercises reli-gious authority is a leader and that her leadership qualities are evident in her governing as she encourages and draws on the gifts of her sisters, especially those who more immediately share responsibility with her, for the well-being of the community. Leadership and Government. For the sake of completeness, there should be a word about what the constitutions give us on leadership and government. It is a short word, because they say very little on the point directly. For the constitutions, leadership is a quality desirable in sisters exercising authority, and govern-ment is the concrete process by which authority is exercised to unify and animate the institute so as to attain its goal. The texts take both leadership and government in relation to authority, not in relation to each other. We are obliged, so to speak, to go via authority if we want to link the other two. This is probably an inevitable state of affairs, for constitutions are spiritual juridical documents which give principles and norms for what can be leg-islated. Both authority and government are patient of legislation; leadership is not. So it is normal that, while several texts hope for leadership as a quality in those vested with authority to gov-ern, nobody assumes that it is a quality conferred by the fact of having that authority. This in itself is a realistic step forward. Conclusion How can we summarize all this? The new elements that mark the current phase of religious government in contrast to those which preceded it seem to be: ¯ a renewed sense of the spiritual dimension and of the kind of responsibility which it involves; ¯ a sharp awareness of the rediscovered founding charism; the concept of authority as service reflecting the Christ who came not to be served but to serve; ¯ the idea of complementing necessary gifts; openness to a wide participation of the sisters in general according to their roles and experience, continuing the thrust of the Second Vatican Council on the dignity of each person and expressing the belief that the Holy Spirit can work through each one for the good of the whole; ¯ the adoption of responsibility, subsidiarity, and account-ability as basic principles; ¯ the recognition by many that religious government is inseparably linked with the founding charism and with 190 Review for Religious the vow of obedience and so has a dimension of faith and of relation to the church that distinguishes it ultimately from administration, organization, management, or indeed any other form of government. At the same time, pro-cesses of consensus and discernment, variously under-stood, have been widely adopted. The evolution of the understanding and praxis of leadership, authority, and government in religious life is continuous. It is not in itself an experiment which can be tried out for a certain num-ber of years and then be confirmed, modified, or dropped, although individual structures expressing it can be handled in this way. In itself the evolutitn is essential and consistent. It is, there-fore, from the viewpoint of the present moment in an evolving continuum that we can pick up the two questions we raised some pages back. Has the basic function of leadership, authority, and government in religious life changed? If it has, why? Ana to what? We have seen that the goals and values for which leadership, authority, and gov-ernment exist in religious iife go far back in history, emerging from the following of Christ in radic~il gospel living as it was first understood bythe desert fathers and mothers and the early mqnks. From at least the time of St. Benedict, these goals and values have included the promotion of individual and community growth towards the full maturity of Christ; th~ fostering of unity, peace, and mission at the service of the church; the encouragement of fidelity; the ensuring of forrhation; the provision of the necessi-ties for consecrated life, all in accord with the particular found-ing charism of the institute. It is evident from the survey of the sixty recently approved constitutions that these basic goals and values remain constant. The stated purpose and function of gov-ernment is always that the institute a~hieve the goal for which it exists in the church: a specific pu.blic witness to Christ and his gospel in unity, prayer, and growth in love and in the service of mission. As regards these purposes, there is little change. What has changed, from the evidence of quite a few texts, is something which is not directly within the competence of con-stitutions: the kind and extent of responsibility actually involved in undertaking the service of government today. Whereas, even into the 19th century, religious government was (and in principle still is) primarily a spiritual and ecclesial matter, for many insti-tutes of sisters today there are accretions which create a further and different kind of responsibility. A superior general who has March-April 1993 191 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government been elected to see to the growth and mission of her sisters in service to the sick with Christ the healer may find herself by that very fact fostering that growth as president of a multimillion-dol-lar hospital corporation. The superior of an institute with an apos-tolate of education may well be ex officio a member of the boards of various colleges and universities. She will almost inevitably find herself ultimately responsible for the administration of homes for the aged sisters and for dealing with financial reports. The spread of an institute and the desire for hands-on government may call for wide travel, a knowledge of languages, and the capac-ity for inculturation. Both public relations and communication, with all their current technicalities, will claim attention. Clearly, responsibilities have to be delegated. However, under this kind of pressure, things may get treated from the point of view of the accretions instead of the essential. This substitutes administra-tion for religious government. It tends to depersonalize, to use authority for efficiency only, without the spiritual quality which should animate the government of religious. The accretions, which are many and demanding and which show no sign of dimin-ishing of their own accord, are the proper field for delegation and group work. To elect superiors and councilors or tdam mem-bers in view of the accretions instead of the capacity to serve the basic goals and values of the institute would be to build in a dis-tortion. Somehow, the different responsibilities have to be dis-tinguished and provided for in their own right. Do our structures com'espond to their purpose and function? This is a question that each institute has to answer for itself, because each one has its unique charism that determines the purpose, function, and structures of its government. Certain circumstances, however, have influenced structures and government in many institutes of sisters dedicated to works of the apostolate; there are reflections of them in the constitutions studied. It may be worth noting them, for they could still clog the wheels in some institutes. Among such circumstances would be: ¯ an institute's existence before canonical recognition when there was not a corpus of canons a.dapted to the needs of sisters and when, in consequence, individual traditions of government could range from the very firm to the very loose according to personalities and to the local circum-stahces-- such precanonical traditions may well have an influence still; ¯ the high degree of uniformity in provisions after 1917; 192 Review for Religion, s ¯ the tendency to authoritarianism and the stress on author-ity of status between the Code of 1917 and the renewal initiated hy Vatican II; ¯ the rapid change in structures and praxis that followed the special general chapters at the end of the 1960s; ¯ the impact of social, political, and psychological change brought about by major movements over the past thirty years: peace and justice, solidarity with the poor, femi-nism, rapid communication, even the recent collapse of communism; ¯ internal tensions regarding identity vis-a-vis the laity, lifestyle, mission, place in the church, raison d'etre; ¯ some confusion of the functions of consultation, consen-sus, and discernment with the functions proper to gov-ernment. SCRIS had a point in the early 1970s when it held that lead-ership and religious authority are not the same thing and that their respective relations to government are different. Time has brought out, however, that religious government does not impose a choice between the two. On the contrary, both are needed, although in different ways. Good religious government reflects not only the word of the gospel, but the Word himself, who leads as pastor and as servant precisely because he so evidently has authority. Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is not extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, or institutional promotion of for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will be considered only on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. March-April 1993 193 JANICE McLAUGHLIN The Meaning of Evangelization Today evangelizing The Shona people of Africa have many names for God. My favorite is "Chipindikure"--The One Who Turns Things Upside Down. Chipindikure comes from the root word kupinduka, which means transformation or revolu-tion. This is what God is doing in the life of each of us and in our world. And this, I think, is what evangelization is all about; letting God's message--which is the most revolu-tionary message the world has ever known--letting that message transform us, turn us upside down, so that we in turn may transform society. Evangelization, then, is about change and about choice. I can say no to change. I can choose to stay in my little rut and refuse to be shaken up and turned upside down. But God does not give up that easily. Like St. Paul, God knocks us off our horse over and over again until we get the message. We have all had these moments of insight in our lives, these turning points, which open us to n~w possibilities. Let us look at some examples of what I mean from my experience--after which I hope you will look at examples from your own experience. After I entered Maryknoll in 1961, I became involved in the civil-rights movement and the antiwar movement. Janice McLaughlin MM spent 22 years in Africa. She recently completed her doctoral dissertation on "The Catholic Church and Zimbabwe's War of Liberation 1972-1980" at the University of Zimbabwe. She may be addressed at Community Office; Maryknoll Sisters; Maryknoll, New York 10545. 194 Review 3~br Religious I also worked with the "war on poverty" program in the small town of Ossining, New York, near Maryknoll. But I think that my eyes were really opened for the first time when I went to East Africa in 1969. Learning another language and living in another culture is perhaps a shortcut to transformation. It forced me to give up my old way of looking at things--my Pittsburgh, St. Lawrence O'Toole Parish, McLaughlin, United States way of looking at life, at God, at the world. It is a shock to learn that you do not have all the answers and that you are not even asking the right questions. The wonderful people of Kenya, and later the people of Zimbabwe and Mozambique, taught me that people are more important than things; that being is more important than doing; that God and relationships are at the heart of everything. In 1977 I went from Kenya to Zimbabwe, which was Southern Rhodesia at that time, and worked as the press secre-tary for the Justice and Peace Commission. I was detained and then deported for telling the truth about the war that was taking place there. Racial segregation and discrimination were govern-ment policy, as they had once been here in the United States. I saw that the war of liberation was an Exodus experience for the African people as they journeyed from slavery to freedom. I came to realize that this iourney goes on in each of our lives as we seek to free ourselves from whatever enslaves us. For some peo-ple it is drugs or alcohol or a history of physical or sexual abuse. For us religious it is often our fears, our inflexibility, and our selfishness. Later I worked with refugees from the war and saw that we are all refugees on a journey through life to our true home. The refugees showed me that, the less we carry on the journey, the easier it will be to reach our destination. In fact, life is a process of stripping us of all we cherish until God is all and everything for us. This is the mystery of death and resurrection which is at the heart of our faith--dying to self so that we may live in Christ. Thus refugees and displaced persons, political prisoners and freedom fighters, and the courageous men, women, and children of Africa who never give up hoping in the midst of so much destruction and death have evangelized me and have shown me that evangelization is incarnational and prophetic and is rooted in prayer. March-April 1993 195 McLaugblin. Evangelization Evangelization Is Incarnational Valentine, one of my students at a school for freedom fight-ers in Maputo, Mozambique, helped me see how incarnation works today. He told me how he had joined the liberation strug-gle after his graduation. "I thought I was better than the others because I had finished high school," he confessed. "I thought that I would be made ~ commander. But I was treated like everyone else." He said that his clothes became torn, that he had no soap for bathing, and little food. He began to think that he had made a mistake and that life was better under colonialism. "Then in my downtrodden position," he said, "I learned the beauty of the revolution. I learned that my suffering was to help others. My life now is to serve the people." Valentine was turned upside down, from being a conceited, selfish youth to becoming a person for others. "From my down-trodden position, I learned. ," he said. This is how God teaches all of us. When we are down and out; when we have lost what is precious to us; when we do not have all the answers; when we feel useless, lost, and alone: God reaches out and touches our pain, our suffering, our loss, turning our little daily deaths into new life. "She who loses her life will find it," God has promised. The happiest moments of my life were the times when I had the least, when, like Valentine, I was downtrodden and suffering with and for others. The three weeks I spent in solitary confine-ment in a Rhodesian prison, for instance, I had few material pos-sessions: a prison uniform, a lumpy bed, and lousy food. But this hardly mattered because the other prisoners reached out to me and welcomed me in their midst. They sang freedom songs at night and smuggled notes to me during the day. They even sent me food when they learned that I liked their African diet. I felt part of something bigger than myself. I was suffering for a cause, and the pain and fear no longer mattered because I was not alone. I was with the oppressed people, and God was there with us in our prison cells. I had this same experience of solidarity and closeness to God in the refugee camps deep in the forests of Mozambique. There I was the one who was weak and powerless. I did not know how to survive in the forest, so the children became my caretakers and guides. They would keep me company to cheer me up; they would teach me their language and share with me any special treats like sugarcane or maputi (a kind of popcorn). They were ministering 196 Review for Religious to me. I did not have to produce or perform, but merely to be there with them in their exile from home. This incarnational approach from within is very different from the balcony approach, where we stand outside and above, pointing fingers at what is wrong and telling others to change. Too often church people, including us religious, stand on our bal-conies criticizing and throwing stones at the world instead of immersing ourselves in the pain and suffering of the poor and oppressed, as Christ did. This immersion enables us to see the world from a new perspective. It is what turns us upside down. Evangelization Is Prophetic When we have been changed, then we are ready to change the world together with the victims. I remember an African sis-ter in Zimbabwe, Sister Marie Theresa Paulino, who explained to me how she became involved in assisting the freedom fighters during the war of liberation. "I thought of Jesus carrying his cross," she told me. "Everyone stood on the sidelines and watched. Only one woman had courage and came forward to wipe his face with her veil. I decided that I could not stand on the sidelines and watch my people suffering, but like Veronica I must have courage and do something to help." She was a nurse. She would disguise herself as a peasant woman, tie her medical instruments around her waist, and walk long distances to mountain caves where she would treat freedom fighters who had been wounded. This was a very risky thing to do. She could have been arrested and even killed if caught by the government authorities. Who knows what the church authorities would have done if they had known of this single sister's act of courage to wipe the face of her suffering people? Each of us is called to have this kind of courage, to wipe the faces of suffering people: the homeless in our streets, the drug addicts, the AIDS patients, the gangs in our inner cities, the sin-gle mothers, the abused and abandoned children, the new immi-grants. I have discovered in the months that I have been back in the United States that there are endless problems here needing to be solved. In fact, it seems tp me that the people of the United States are much more needy than the people I have known in Africa; people in this country of excess and abundance are in dan-ger of losing their souls. Marcb-Atrril 1993 197 McLaugblin ¯ Evangelization Prophetic action is needed to turn the values of this country upside down. We need more than a new president or a new congress or a balanced budget, though these might help. We need more than family values, though these too might help. If we want to save this country, save this planet, and save ourselves, we must return to the radical message of Christ in the gospels. What would the world look like if we truly walked in the footsteps of Christ? Do you think we would turn back Haitians fleeing the poverty and violence in their country? Would we exonerate the police-men who beat up Rodney King? Would we doubt Anita Hill? Would we bomb Iraq or any other so-called enemy? Would defense be our largest industry? Would we fail to sign environ-mental treaties at the Earth Summit? Would we allow thousands of Africans to die of starvation? Would we walk by the homeless in our streets? Would we allow violence and sex to dominate our television and movie screens? Would we let money rule our lives and rob our souls? Someone must stand up and say that t.he emperor has no clothes. Emperors, whether in the church or in society, do not like being reminded of their nakedness, and so we can expect to be condemned and criticized. Do we expect that we his servants should not suffer as Christ, our master, has suffered all these things for our sakes? Let me tell you of a friend of mine in Zimbabwe, Father Michael Lapsley. He is an Anglican priest from New Zealand who has spend all of his adult life condemning the sin of apartheid in South Africa. He was deported from South Africa and from Lesotho. Then two years ago in Harare he opened a package that had come to him from South Africa. It was a letter bomb. It blew off both his hands and destroyed one of his eyes. When I went to see him in the hospital a few days after the bombing, he had two bandaged stumps where his hands had been and a gaping hole that had held his eye. If it had been me, I would rather have been dead. But Michael was cheerful, and he said, "The Boers took my hands and my eye, but they left me my most powerful weapon, my tongue. And with my tongue I will continue to denounce apartheid until the day I die." This is what it means to evangelize the world, to live as Christ did and in so doing to change the world. 198 Reviev; for Religious Evangelization Is Rooted in Prayer We cannot hope to lead such radical lives without the sup-port of prayer. Prayer will give us the courage to take risks, the wisdom to expose the lies of our society, and the strength to join the victims. My understanding of prayer, too, been changed by my expe-rience in Africa. The African leader and philosopher Leopold Senghor has said, "Faith here [in Africa] is as essential to the soul as is bi'ead, rice, or honey to the body. Africans' gift to humankind is their ability to.perceive the supernatural as something really natural--so to speak." Creation spirituality, then, is nothing new to the people of Africa. It is their cul-ture and their way of life. They do not dis-tinguish between the sacred and the secukir. God is perceived as being tru.ly present everywhere and in all things. So they respect other human beings as the temples of God, and they respect the earth and all its creatures as God's dwelling place. African spirituality is all-embracing; there is nothing outside its scope. During Zimbabwe's war of lib-eration, for instance, the traditional religious leaders set down rules of conduct for the freedom fighters. VChile these spiritual men and women who are prophets, healers, bringers of rain, and mediums between the living and the dead were not able to prevent the war, they were able to humanize it by forbidding the needless shedding of blood and the destruction of wildlife and vegetation. African religion thus played an important role in introducing spir-itual norms and values into the freedom struggle. A recent article about prayer from South Africa's Institute for Contextual Theology points out the surprising fact that Jesus had not been teaching his disciples how to pray. They had to ask him. The article explains that Jesus wanted his followers to experience prayer as a need rather than a duty, and notes that there is no commandment in the Bible which says, "Thou shalt pray." It goes on to explain that prayer is like eating and sleeping. Unless there is something wrong with us, we will all eventually feel the need for food and for sleep. The same is true of prayer. How we pray will vary with each person and with our situation. Prayer will give us the courage to take risks, the wisdom to expose the lies of our society, and the strength to join the victims. March-April 1993 199 McLaughlin ¯ Evangelization Africa has taught me to be still and listen to God speaking through all creation and through the people and events I encounter each day. It has taught me to take time for silent pr.ayer, as well as to join in religious celebrations of the people. I have learned to trust the action of God in my life and in other people, rather than trying to do everything myself. Conclusion Life, then, is a journey towards God and with God. Evangelization involves becoming aware of this presence of God in our lives and then sharing this knowledge with others. I believe that this awareness grows when we immerse ourselves in the real-ity of the poor, whether in Zimbabwe, New York, or New South Wales. Their suffering and their faith shatter our complacency, forcing us to question all our preconceptions and prejudices, turn-ing us upside down. We can either become cynical, hopeless, and bitter, or we can face our own powerlessness and grow in faith, hope, and trust in God. Steve Biko, the South African leader who was tortured and died in prison, once said that comfort and security are incom-patible with leadership. I would add that they are incompatible with religious life. We will rarely be turned upside down in the comfort and security of our middle-class convents, spending all our time looking inward at our own spiritual growth. When we come down from our balconies and go out to oth-ers, especially the outcasts and the most needy, we will come alive. It is prophetic just to take the poor seriously in this society where wealth, possessions, and power mean so much. I should add that as women we are also among the poor and the oppressed because we have so little power in our society and in our church. Making the voices of the poor heard in our churches, homes, and offices and in the corridors of power throughout this land can make a difference. I firmly believe that we religious women can turn this society upside down. Let us do it! 200 Review for Religious Questions for reflection and sharing: i. Reflect on some of the turning points in your own life. How were you turned upside down? 2. What do you think needs to be turned upside down in your present situation? 3. What do you think needs to be turned upside down in this society? 4. What action will you take to make at least one of these changes? A Daughter's Monologue with Her Mother You are my child now. Now, you are my child. You may raise your brows at my leaving, or close your eyes on approach, wanting more nearly to turn toward the wall, to shut out the world long since set aside; one you no longer speak to. I will make room for your mood; your darkness, delight. You are my child now; who shall I name you ? You are my child now. There's no wanting in you but ¯ merits my care. You can wear soft hair in brhiding or turned in a bun. Neither will burnish my love nor undo it. Rest quietly, then, macushla. You can't disappoint me. Just who you are is my best expectation. You are my child now; I am the mother. Ann Maureen Gallagher IHM March-April 1993 201 MARIO I. AGUILAR Broken African Pots and a Mission Spirituality MwisSionary work in Africa has for years been associated ith lonely and courageous missionaries, single indi-viduals or very small communities of religious and lay people who have preached the gospel on the African continent in very diffi-cult circumstances. While the former facts are true in some way, in this article I want to look at the particular experience of a group of religious women and men working in Garba Tulla, Kenya, and their own sense of achievement and failure. Although this case is a very localized one, it opens the way to another understanding of missionary spirituality and, I would say, missionary work. I kvill focus, not on missionary strategies--that would constitute mate-rial for missiological studies--but on African pottery. I believe it can help to illustrate a spirituality for mission. In this article I assert that spiritual fulfillment, failure, and possible despair in missionary work are directly related to our own expectations coming from our own sense of achievement and self-understanding. The particular goals and expectations that missionaries arrive with permeate their sense of fulfillment and failurein their missionary work. What one person considers to be success and fulfillment can seem to be failure and reason for despair to somebody else. For this reason I suggest that the African way of making pottery could help us discover God's pres- Mario I. Aguilar SVD has taught Scripture and religious studies in Kenya and anthropology at the University of Vienna. His present address is: School of Oriental and African Studies; Department of Anthropology; Thornhaugh St. Russell Square; London WC1H 0XG; England. 202 Revie~ for Religious ence in different cultures--something I would consider the final goal in missionary work and in our own search for a spirituality of mission. On the other hand, there is this about African pottery: it involves making, breaking, and remaking pots. It is a constant process, one which never ends. Garba Tulla Parish: A Case Study The parish of the Good Shepherd (Parokia Tissitu Dansa) of Garba Tulla is located in the Isiolo deanery of the diocese of Meru, Eastern Kenya. The parish as such was created in 1987, after years of being an outstation of the Isiolo parish and then a so-called Catholic mission. By most people it is still considered the Garba Tulla Catholic Mission. Located in a semidesert area and in the middle of Garba Tulla town, it has a very short history as a so-called missionary presence among th~ Boorana people of the area. From the late 1970s, priests from the Isiolo parish (120 kilo-meters away) had gone to Garba Tulla, mainly on weekends, in order to celebrate the Eucharist with the Catholics who worked in the area. It cannot be denied that their missionary presence was oriented towards the conversion of the Muslim Boorana towards Christianity and specifically towards the Catholic Church.' In 1985 one priest and two brothers established their resi-dence for the first time at the Catholic Mission in Garba Tulla, but my case study begins in 1986, when a group of religious sisters joined the men religious who had been working in the area. At that time the missionary personnel working in Garba Tulla started considering themselves a team, a mission team of religious rather than a number of individuals working in the area. In a deanery where most of the priests come from diocesan backgrounds, this missionary team of religious constituted a novelty. Regarding a missionary strategy, the team went through stages of understanding their presence and work in the area. During the first stage, 1986-1987, the team moved towards being a Christian presence among the people, i3ut with the spiritual goal of fulfill-ment through the conversion of Muslims to the gospel. Their sense of spiritual fulfillment in mission came from the fact of their presence there and from the hopeful possibility that some Muslims would eventually believe in the gospel. New enterprises and new expectations, especially for a team Marcb-~lt~il 1993 203 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Each one of the religious on the team felt that his or her spiritual fulfillment depended on the implementation of a particular model of mission. which had just arrived in the area, provided a time of search for strategies and for a religious spirituality that stressed God's dia-logue with his people, but also stressed the need people have for Christ as the ultimate revelation of God. That was expressed in the creation of many projects of development and in efforts to form a praying community among the team, because of the lack of Christians from the Boorana people of Garba Tulla themselves. The team comprised seven people, who came from seven different countries--a nat-ural richness, one would say. Nevertheless, it created a deep crisis of purpose, because of the different understandings of mission work present among members of the team. By 1987 the leader of the team was changed under difficult circumstances, and a search for a new purpose began once again. There was a new sense of searching for fulfillment after the damage caused by the team's fail-ures of communication and understanding had somehow been repaired. (I believe that those scars will never be healed completely.) The spiritual failure felt by the team was ¯ explained as part of the problem of having a team with individuals of different nationalities and therefore with different models of mission. There were ethnocentric tones to the problem as well; people failed to understand one another's attitudes. Nevertheless, I would say that, by itself, the variety of spiritualities present in the team caused enough internal tensions for a complete breakdown in communication and cooperation. Each one of the religious on the team felt at one point or another that his or her spiritual fulfillment depended on the implementa-tion of a particular model of mission. New attempts to unite the team around a particular model of mission work have in reality also failed, even as new leaders in the team have moved to a second stage, dialogue with the Muslim community, and a third stage, the strengthening of the parish. Those two attempts provided a complete change from the above-mentioned first stage, which was concerned with the actual con-version of the Muslim community towards Christianity. This case could sound like a very familiar story among reli- 204 Review for Religious gious, but to me it posed many questions regarding spiritual ful-fillment, acceptance, failure, and even despair in missionary work. The result of that time of tension was a new beginning, a new search. Years later the team is still searching for answers. Years later different nationalities are still trying to understand what went wrong with those religious at that time, and the scars are still present. As a member of the team which followed the 1987 crisis, I asked myself many times if what actually went wrong was con-nected, not to mission strategies, but rather to a very limited understanding of a spirituality for mission. That mission team ran out of their spiritual resources as religious because they failed to accept that personal fulfillment also requires failures and even despair at certain times of our lives. It is in this sense that I pro-pose that African pottery provides a model that fits our need for spiritual fulfillment and the presence of God in our lives. Success and Failure in an African Pot In 1992 I had the wonderful opportunity to sit surrounded by potters at a village of the Nkhoma mountains in Malawi. The potters were women who belong to the Chewa people. I was acquainted with the art of pottery in my home country, Chile, and also as a religious I had explored the possibility of prayer involving the use of clay and pottery, with very limited results. But now I felt the need to relate a spirituality for mission, based on my experience in Kenya, to the feelings and events of those days spent under the sun in the mountains of Malawi. Among the Chewa people, women produce pottery while men weave mats. A group of women sit in front of a house, surrounded by their children. Usually one woman has learned the techniques of pottery from another village and teaches the others. The clay is prepared by being pounded in a mortar so as to eliminate impu-rities. Pottery making begins when the woman takes a lump of clay and proceeds to pick out of it the hard little pieces that are still present and would cause problems as the clay is molded. The complete process is simple and at the same time elaborate; skill comes only with practice. The more pots you make, the more skilled you become. The clay is pounded with the palms of both hands till it becomes like a flat plate. Then it is slapped at the sides, till the March-April 1993 205 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots A broken pot is never thrown away; it becomes an important part of the process of making new pots. actual form of a vessel begins to appear. This is done with round movements of the hands, with the clay in the air. The shoulders give a certain rhythm to this hard process. A lot of strength is required to shape the clay, and what looks like easy work---and fun, too, in a way--is really hard physical work. The potter's hands become hard and dirty. (A skillful potter can make six or seven new pots in a morning's work.) Finally the pot begins to take shape, and what was a piece of clay looks like a new creation. The whole activity of pottery making is witnessed by a group of the village com-munity. Small girls try their luck at pot-tery making. They mold smaller pieces of clay into small pots, their own contribu-tion to village life and a particular com-munity activity. Less-skilled women who are still learning the potter's art are helped regularly by those who have more experi-ence and skill. The whole activity becomes a community activity, in which individu-als are not ashamed of being helped in their process of pottery making. Individual women are encouraged by others with the phrases "Press harder, . Push the clay up," "Make sure both of your hands are molding the clay," and so forth. There is a constant concern for each other. At the proper moment the new, shaped piece of clay is placed on pieces of broken pots that have been spread out on the ground. Those pieces come from pots which broke while being fired or broke while being used for cooking on the family fire. Broken pots, therefore, are still useful for the community in their cre-ative activity. A broken pot is never thrown away; it becomes an important part of the process of making new pots. Broken pots symbolize the continuity of a particular village, where new pots could not be made and would not exist without the contribution made by those broken pots. The past of a people is symbolized by the broken pots, which become part of a present and provide con-tinuity for the future of a people who need to be fed in order to have a future. In the pottery process the potters constandy apply water to the 206 Review for Religious clay while they shape it. The broken pots and the water both con-tribute to the making of new pots. The clay placed on the broken pieces of pottery lies at arms' length in front of the potter as she sits spread-legged on the grtund. When one asks the women why they work this way, they simply say it l~as always been like this. For my part, I am reminded of the act of giving birth. Just in front of the womb, a new creation is b.eing shaped and brought to "life." The process is like giving birth, I could not help thinking how distant, by contrast, from the work of their hands first-world potters appear to be, while in the African villages there is a close union between the potter and her creation, the new pot, nourishment and new life for her own village and community. A piece of wood is used to shape the sides of the pot. The bottom of the pot is shaped with a knife. The inside is cleared of any extra superfluous clay, and the pot is left to dry in the sun-- except during October, when the pots are shaded from the very strong sun of that time of year. After the clay has dried some-what, the pot is smoothed with a stone and decorated and is then ready for firing. Mthough the potter may modify the traditional line-and-dot patterns of decoration, there is a tendency.towards a good deal of continuity. When a woman ig learning pottery, she is taught how the lines and dots are "supposed to be." The process of firing the pots, which takes place some days later, provides a very interesting sight. The pots are lined up and covered.with leaves and branches, Thes~ are then set on fire. The whole community sit~ around the fire and watches as a few women take care of it. There is~ a great sense of expectation as the proc.ess goes on. Some pots will break. Others will come through in good shape and will be ready ftr the final decorations made with some roots~ while the pots are still hot. The "paint" for the decorations (red and black) is provided by local roots which the commufiity also associates with initiation and maturation.' When I was present for the first time, only one pot out of ten broke during the firing process--considered a real success by the community. Usually more pots break. Following the firing of the pots, the whole community cele-brates the event with a meal. After all, the community itself will store and cook their food in those pots and will also generate some income when they sell some of the pots at the local market. March-April 199~ 207 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Not every region produces pots, for the right kind of soil is pres-ent only in the dry areas of the Nldaoma mountains. Wonderfully, the dry soil of arid mountains is the means of feeding these com-munities and thus sustaining life. Creating and Breaking Pots in Mission Work It seems to me that when one talks about potters and pottery, one assumes (as in Jeremiah 18:1-6) that God is the potter and we are those pots of clay that he is molding. What would happen if we consider ourselves the potters and that the clay symbolizes the cultures and peoples we are trying to evangelize, such as the Boorana of Garba Tulla, Kenya? When a mission community moves in and establishes itself, a particular group of people encounters another particular group of people. Each group has its own culture. The so-called "mission-aries" have the idea of forming a Christian community with the other group. Their effort can be compared to the making of pots, for that process, too, is culturally shaped, and people's expectations derive from tradition. Without excluding the possibility of lay people being mis-sionaries and therefore "makers of pots," I will explore these con-cepts with reference to Garba Tulla and its particular makers of pots and the particular missionary community in the parish of the Good Shepherd. The potters involved here came from different cultures. They all had experience of pottery making, and all of them recognized that it could be done only in a particular, culturally constructed way. Pottery making as the creation, subsistence, and growth of a Christian community required a certain experience and a certain risk. All those missionary religious had already experienced mis-. sionary work in other cultures and had brought with them whole bundles of assumed knowledge and expectations. Because of those past experiences, the process of learning pottery making in the Garba Tulla context was already shaped by their backgrounds. There were no teachers involved in this pottery making. Each one just did as he or she knew best. The clay had been prepared by the Italian missionaries who had lived among the Boorana before. When the new potters took over, there was no period of preparation, and the process of mak-ing the pot began immediately. The pot had to be shaped accord- 208 Review for Religious ing to the potters' expectations, and everyone's expectations were different. Although fulfillment, success, and failure can be assumed in the community of African women making pottery, there was no sense of one community of pot-ters among those missionaries. The making of pots was being done individually; different pot-tery techniques were being used. While it is true that a pot is a pot and not something else, the same word when used by different peo-ple evokes different images, shapes, and colors. And so, with-out some discussion and planning and some exchange and dialogue concerning the matter, there is no way to know somebody else's ideas about the making of pots-- or the making of a Christian community. While a pot is being made, much cooperation is needed. People offer each other valuable suggestions about the shape and consistency of a pot. The water needed for making the pots needs to be shared cooperatively. But for both potters and missioners, the process of firing a pot is the crucial moment of. fulfillment or failure. Without some discussion and planning and some exchange and dialogue concerning the matter, there is no way to know somebody else's ideas about the making of pots-- or the making of a Christian community. Towards a Spirituality of Broken Pots The pots need to be fired in order to be ready for use. In fir-ing, the makers of pots learn how successful their work has been. After the ashes are cleared, some of the pots will be found broken and later find themselves part of a new effort to make pottery. The time when the community witnesses the firing of pots is a very exciting time. A whole community effo]'t is being judged and evaluated. Our Western attitude looks almost exclusively at the result: if the pots that have broken amount to none or only a few, then the whole exercise has been a great success. If the bro-ken pots are numerous, then the whole community exercise is a disaster. March-April 1993 209 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Even if all the pots break and there is none left, they still rejoice because they have exercised a community moment, they have strengthened their common effort to keep their community fed. The African attitude toward such evaluations is completely different, and it hassomething to contribute to a missionary spir-ituality. Very few times in their lives hive the potters seen no broken pots after the firing. Even when a great number of pots breaks, they rejoice in the sturdy few that will increase the num-ber of cooking pots or the income of their community. Even if all the pots break and there is none left, they still rejoice because theyhave exercised a community moment, they have s.trengthened .their common effort to keep their community fed. If the number of new pots is none, they still have the broken pots, which are needed for the making of new ones. With these thoughts in mind, I consider no missionary effort ever to be in vain; any attempt at community life and at preaching the gospel through that community life cannot be in vain. Even the¯ so-called "fhil-ure" of the religious missionary team in Garba Tulla at a particular time, has aided new attempts to proclaim the gospel among the Boorana peo-ple. Through the life of those reli-gious, broken pots have become new pots once again. New expectations have arisen, and new people have arrived. Once again some individuals have disagreed with one another, but new expec-tations l~ave been created. Some will become'broken pots, others goo.d pots, but they will all eventually be part of each other. If'one looks at success and fulfillment and at failure and frus-tration in mission work, one realizes that the fulfillment or frus-tration among religious does not come from the visible or measurable results, but from the attitude towards those events. The sense of expectation and purpose in a religious community is the guide to the true meaning of fulfillment or frustration in mis-sionary work. Of those religious who served in Garba Tulla dur-ing that time of "crisis," some would consider that period a failure because the objectives of the planned mission work were not real-ized. Others, instead, would see tl~at period as a fulfilling and 210 Review for "Religiom. gratifying one because they provided it the much-needed experi-ence of learning how to cooperate on an international religious team. Success and failure among religious men and women can-not be evaluated in a simple empirical way, as in the business world, but they coincide with our own attitude towards the whole process of preparation for that particular time in our lives and towards the spiritual fruits which can appear during that time and afterwards. Further Points for Reflection. The lessons for a spirituality for mission based on the process of molding and firing pottery can be summarized in the follow-ing points: ¯ The whole process calls for an openness to the Spirit so as to recognize the whole process as already a "success." ¯ We need to accept that we are always learning and that oth-ers are also learning. The whole process of going through a learn-ing period in our lives is also a success. Hopefully that process of learning will never end. ¯ Pottery cannot be properly made by one person; it has to be a community effort, because we all need others to help us. Religious doing missionary work also need others in order to bear fruit and make new beautiful pots. ¯ Different people have learned pottery from different teach-ers and designs from different regions and villages. The beauty of it lies in its diversity. The success in our process of learning pot-tery comes from the realization that a proper diversity brings beauty and opportunities for exchange and dialogue. When reli-gious come from different countries and different cultures, they also experience success if they are able to recognize and appreci-ate the beauty of their diversity. ¯ The pot of water that is shared by the potters is needed for the flow of moisture in the making of pots. That water is passed around when somebody realizes that somebody else is in need: the other person's pot is also my concern. Success in missionary work begins when one realizes that all persons, including even oneself, need water at one point or another. The fact of caring for one another's project is already a success in life. ¯ The broken pots become important because they symbolize the continuity of a group of people, of a community. They are March-April 1993 211 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots used in a new effort to make pots for the community, for the stor-ing and preparing of food for the life of the community. The bro-ken pots become more important than the good pots because the pots that turn out fine after firing will eventually be sold to mem-bers of another community. The broken pots provide continuity of life that the village community needs. Maybe a spirituality for mission could be called a spirituality of broken pots: the more pots we break, the more successful we are, for we have experienced the past and present community pulling together, and we have recognized the need for others if we are to be successful. A spirituality of broken pots would recognize the need to accept that we cannot fully control the firing pro-cess. Whatever we do, some pots may end up broken, and so there is the possibility of trying again. Other pots may turn out well and then, in one way or another, will help the community to serve other people, even other potters, and people in other villages. The broken pots retain their unique importance because they provide the foundation for a new making of pots and thus for the food and life of the community. I feel that a spirituality for mis-sion should be a spirituality of broken pots--and that a spiritual-ity of broken pots always creates success, as Jeremiah shows: "So I went down to the potter's house; and there he was, working at the wheel. And whenever the vessel he was making came out wrong, as happens with the clay handled by potters, he would start afresh and work it into another vessel, as potters do." Note 1 See M.I. Aguilar, "Nagaa: Centro de Encuentro con el Islam," Chile Misionero, 9 (1992), and "Dialogue with Boorana Religion: A Path of the Gospel in Garba Tulla, Eastern Kenya," The Seed (Nairobi), October 1992. Review for Religious MICHAEL D. MOGA A Spirituality of Aging In life we are confronted with many spiritualities and are frequently forced to make a choice among them. There is the spirituality dis6nctive of a diocesan priest and there are many spiritualities of religious life. The spirituality of a contemplative religious is quite different from that of a religious engaged in the active apostolate. The spiritual-ities offered by oriental religions differ from those of Western religions. The theme of this paper is simple: the spirituality for an older person is quite different from the spirituality for a younger person. As we grow older the Spirit of God leads us through certain approaches and principles that are distinctive to the particular period of life in which we find ourselves. Human life is constantly changing and we are chal-lenged to move with those changes. We move through the stages of childhood and maturity into old age which demand that we leave behind one way of living to face life in a new and different way. The adjustments are difficult and may take many years to accomplish. The change from maturity to old age challenges us once again to leave something behind and to adjust to a new situation of life. Like the passage from childhood to maturity this new change presents us with a difficult Michael D. Moga SJ has taught philosophy in various seminar-ies and colleges in Mindanao. His address is Xavier University; Cagayan de Oro City; Philippines. aging christ March-April 1993 213 Moga ¯ A Spirituality of Aging adjustment which will demand a great deal of effort and pain before it is fully accomplished. I find it strange that a rather long portion of time and edu-cation (as much as 40-45 years) can be set aside to prepare a per-son for adult life whereas little or no attention or time is devoted to planning for one's final phase of life (which can sometimes last as long as 25 or 30 years)! In our early training as religious we were presented with a certain spirituality that for the most part fitted the life of a young person. It emphasized generosity ("to give and not to count the cost"), high ideals (working for "the greater glory of God"), and commitment. This spirituality was exemplified in a saint like Francis Xavier who lived a life of generous commitment until his early death at 46. He did not live long enough to face the need to change his spirituality. A spirituality for an aging religious must, of necessity, be quite different. I suggest that John the Baptist, who said: "He must increase and I must decrease," would be a fine model. John saw that his disciples were leaving him and following Jesus. He sensed that his basic work was completed and his role in God's plan had been fulfilled. He accepted all of this. He did not try to hold on to his disciples nor did he need to continue his previous work of preparing for the Messiah. He stepped back and let Jesus pro-claim his message, trusting that God was working through Jesus and through others. In a spirit of trust he lived his statement: "He must increase and I must decrease." Aging religious find themselves in the situation of John the Baptist. As they grow older many things are taken from them. As they diminish in body, mind, and spirit their influence in the world around them is lessened, and they are called upon to find God in these losses. Instead of emphasizing generosity as they did as a young religious, they are called to accept these dimin-ishments and even to rejoice in them. The total commitment to apostolic work of the young religious is set aside. Instead of giv-ing themselves more fully to apostolic involvement, aging reli-gious are called to withdraw from such involvements. Above all they are called to trust, to believe that as they decrease, Jesus increases. They are called to trust that their diminishment is part of God's way of furthering the kingdom. A spirituality of aging can take many different forms. Let me present a few of them. 214 Review for Religious 1. The spirituality of an old person should include a serious preparation for death. Death is not simply something that happens to us. It is one of the most important actions of our lives, for in death we go back to God. Such an important movement of our lives should be given due attention and concern. Just as in our younger lives we took the choice of our careers very seriously, so is death a similar crucial moment which deserves to be treated with similar seriousness and to be prepared for. The period of aging has been given to us by God as a time of intense preparation for death. It would be a mistake to be so busy with our work and other affairs that we give no time, thought, or effort to this approaching event in our lives. We may want to die with our boots on but such an attitude may possibly manifest a lack of faith. We are, of course, called by God to do our share of the work of building the kingdom. But our faith affirms that we are called by God to pass beyond ~his world to live with him in an eternal kingdom. It would be wrong in our present lives to be so occupied with the "God of this world" that we ignore that "God of the future" and the life that he calls us to. One way that we prepare for death is to begin to put things aside. Since in death we will be forced to leave our involvements in this world, a preparation would be to step back from these involvements, to become less absorbed in our concern for the achievement of goals and the attainment of success. Nature aids such stepping back from involvements. For an aging person the world often becomes rather "tasteless." The process of aging may not only reduce the sensitivity of our taste buds but also diminish our hunger for the activities and concerns of the world around us. We can find ourselves not caring which basketball team is the champion this year, which songs are the most popular, or who is the most popular movie star. When we were young such things made a difference, but as we grow older we find ourselves losing touch with these "popular" concerns. The tendency to lose touch need not be conceived as a sad thing, a loss. It is clearly the way nature guides us to turn away from unimportant things and to focus our lives on what is more Aging religious find themselves in the situation of John the Baptist. March-April 1993 215 Moga ¯ ~1 Spirituality of Aging essential--on the death that is coming, on the God we are soon to meet. Thus as we prepare for death we are challenged to free ourselves from all that is unimportant in life. In our journey through life we easily let ourselves get caught up in concerns, possessions, and habitual ways of thinking and being. How won-derful it would be if the contemplation of death could make us truly "free" of all these petty things so that we might live for what is truly important. Preparing for ~something means that we focus on it. The preparation for death demands a positive focus on that meeting with God which is found in death. Preparing for death thus invites us to turn toward God and give ourselves directly to God. Older religious shbuld be freed from apostolic involvements precisely so that they might have more time for prayer, more time for God. Every year we prepare to meet God in our celebration of Advent. During Advent we join with the people of the Old Covenant in their "waiting for God." We also join with Mary as she waits for her child to be born. During Advent we Christians give our energies to "waiting," to living out our waiting in a full and complete way. The lives of aging religious can embody this spirit of Advent and be filled with a "waiting for God." 2. A challenge to accept. One major characteristic of a spiritu-ality of aging is its emphasis on a person's acceptance of dimin-ishment. As we grow older various things are taken from us. There is a basic lessening of energies as we grow older. Vision and hear-ing begin to deteriorate. Health fails as we encounter various ill-nesses and pains. Control over one

Issue 37.5 of the Review for Religious, 1978. ; Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development Immortality, Old Age and Death Developing Constitutions and Directories Volume 37 Number 5 Septe~mber 1978 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1978 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $8.00 a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor September, 1978 Volume 37 Number 5 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Not As Demanding an Answer Mary Corona, F.M.D.M. Sister Mary Corona, nurse and mid-wife by profession, has been a religious for 23 years. After fifteen years of service in Zambia, she is presently w6rking at a nursing home of her com-munity: Mount Alvernia; Bramshott Chase; Portsmouth Rd., Near Hindhead; Surrey, En-gland. Recently someone quoted a sister as saying that she will remain in religious life until or unless Mr. Right comes along. With the greatest respect for those who see the crises which presently exist in our religious communities as lying e!sewhere, I would submit that here, in this attitude, is both nut and kernel of the~ pyoblem. How big this. problem is might be difficult to assess, but it would seem fair to suggest that it is as large, or as small, .as the number of sisters dragging along who are oriented in this way. It is true that religious life is bedeviled with all manner of other diffi-culties, but these will never destroy consecrated living. Indeed, they never could;;for consecration is of the heart, and is able to stand against the ebb and .flow of contrary tides--but not that of the uncommitted heart. An-chorless, it drifts aimlessly to and fro. One can only feel a deep compassion for sisters living in this way. They have missed out on both sides of life, and the wonder is that they stay so long. Our way of life has little to offer once theheart grows cold, for all that remains is an existence Centered on regulations, work, meals--and frus-tration. Religious life was never rheant to be like that. It was never meant merely to provide board and lOdging while our heart plays elsewhere. It was never meant simply to provide a base to which we return every so often to pick up our mail and clean clothes. We did not make vows of religion just to obtain financial security, material comfort, and freedom from the re- 641 642 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 sponsibility of rearing a family. Yet all this, and much more, is implicit in an attitude of waiting for some one or something "worthwhile" to come our way. If we come to the point where we see our:institute as something separate from the Person who calls us, there is little wonder we lose our love for it. No one can really love an institution on its own merits. No sane adult waxes lyrical over the government, or glows with love about the local housing department. Institutions, especially legislative ones, are just not things which warm our hearts. Our own institute can soon come to be viewed in much the same way.-.:Once we have lost our focal point all else begins to diSintegrate. Riales become restrictive, authority becomes oppressive, ac-countability is no longer acceptable, and our eyes start roaming the world for a way out. Ways out are not difficult to find, and so the further we get from our committed attitude of heart, the more normal it seems to be wandering abroad. We may still talk bravely about the love of God. But words do not feed a hungry heart, and we are hungry---craving for love as only a woman can crave. Separated from the trtie center of our lives, we will v.ery soon seek out its counterfeit. Borderline friendships, such as sincere married women would consider out of the question, are accepted as offering "meaning" to our drifting lives. Social activities unbecoming to a life consecrated by vow are welcomed as a relief from boredom. Fantasies, imaginings, unrealistic day-dreams eat away at us until, predictably, we file our petition for dis-pensation. What started off as something so glorious finishes with a slip of paper authorizing us to go our way. It would be pleasant to think that this unhappy pic(ure is an exaggeration. But one only has to look back through religious perio~licals covering the last few years, and pick out the articles written by sisters, to find a substantial proportion containing material,of this depressing kind. So, what should our lives be? Although we rub shoulders with many another on our journey through life, in the final analysis it is our own individual experience that shapes our views and convictions. My own con-victions concerning religious life have been crystallized and refined in many a furnace. Therehave been times when it seemed that I, like many another, just did not have the necessary courage to go on. St. Paul seemed to me to have missed the mark when he said, "You will not be tempted beyond your strength," for on those occasions I was being sorely tempted, in a way that seemed to have far outstripped my strength. , Yet it was at this very point each time that help came. Some tremendous force seemed to pluck me out of the fearful void and I was set down once again on firm ground. I now know experientially what I had known pre-viously only on theory, that St. Paul was right in what he said,just as I also know that my vows were a bilateral contract, and God on his side has an obligation to care for me--and he will. I know that however far he tosses Not As DemandinR an Answ~er / 64~ me, he will cradle me again. I know that my life is as inextricably bound up with his as his is with mine. He cannot do without me any more than I can do without him. I might be dispensable to others, but he will never throw me hway. He calls me by my name, softly and gently, not as demanding an answer, but as begging a surrender. I am his cherished one, his beloved child, and all that I do, all the wrong that is in me, will s6mehow be colored by his great ~lo~ve for me. As I grow on awarenes~ of his love, I begin to drop my masks and lower my barriers; I unfold and develop, unconscious of the strength of his con-cern. I'no longer worry~ whether I am worthy to be loved by him--such questionings are futile, for his love is already a fact. I no longer fear to accept his love, worried over my shabbiness, because near him my tatters are transformed. ~. I am aware of my weakness, my need for help, my sometimes inability to "go itS' alone. 1 know that I nee~d friends, I need. encouragement, I n~ed acceptance and love from those around me, for the stuff of my being is human and craves these ~hings. But I do not need a lover, I do not need a Mr. Right. I would have no room for him. I would not know what to do with him, for all the time I would spend with him my heart would be crying out for my true lover, my Lord and Master. I wear His ring on my finger and there it will remain until in death another will remove it, for then all need of visible signs will have passed. I know I have many faults--some glaring, ¯ some tucked away--so be it. He will not allow me to persist in dangerous or damaging attitudes for long, but he will love them out of me, and in his tenderness will leave no scars. I_will never leave him, not through any strength or goodness of mine but because he will not let me go. He bargained for me at too great a price. Why should I want to leave him anyway? What fault can I find in him? Where has . he failed? What promise has he not kept? When has his love grown cold and~ his eyes sought out anothe~r in preference to me? I can accuse him of none of these things. Through~ut my life others have let me down, but him-- never! I have pained and anguished him. I have demanded my head, and he has given it to me. I have argued and tossed the ball with him, provoking a reaction and, having exhausted myself, found his long, beautiful patience waiting quietly to take me back again. I have never received a reprimand, not even in the deepest places of my heart, but in any wrongdoing I have only ever been conscious of his heartbreaking quietness while he waits, and, as we set off together again; it is as though the wandering past had never been. And so my vows and my ~religious life are only means to a glorious end. They are not my life, but the !oom on which the fabric of my life, the fabric of my love is being woven. They will hold all things together for me until the One I have loved so imperfectlyin this life will invite me to quit it and come with him, where, because he will never leave my side, I shall do all 644 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 things perfectly. And then, in the words of that delightful English medieval recluse, Julian of Norwich, "All will be well. All manner of things will be well." This then is what was promised to us on making our religious profession. We were assured that if we faithfully observed all that was implicit in our vows we would attain to eternal beatitude. We took the unknown future on trust, and in its unfolding we have doubtless experienced great joys and rich blessings, both interwoven with a handsome share of heartbreak. Things have changed, people have changed, we ourselves have changed. No one ever promised that it would be otherwise. Yet in all the movement in which we are caught up, God has remained constant. He has not, he does not, he will not change. So infinitely lovable, tantalizingly beautiful, how is it possible for us to want another? We have our Mr. Right, maybe we never stood still long enough to recognize him. Maybe we have never moved in closely enough to experience him. It is never too late, for in his constancy he is still waiting. He has not moved. He will always be waiting while there is the smallest hope that we might turn back. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS HAS MOVED! As of June 19, the editorial office of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS has relocated from its Grand Boulevard location to its new address: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development Philip D. CristantiellO Dr. Cristantiello is a consulting psychologist to St. Joseph's Seminary, St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing, the Dominican Sisters of Newburg and to Elizabeth Seton College. He resides at 130 Sherwood Ave.; Yonk.ers, NY 10704. Once upon ~. time a person could reiy on .his certainties. They accom-panied him as comfortable companions throughout life. For example, just about everyone knew that the priestho6d was limited to men, that homo-sexuality was not only different but also deviant and that no child born Robert would become, an adult called Roberta. It wasn't even necessary to discuss such matters. They were considered self-evident. Now, however, we have come uncomfortably to the realization that society has taken many of our "knowns" and chan.ged them to."maybes." So it is fitting to discuss the subject of psychosexua! maturity with a certain degree of caution. The views expressed in this paper are directed particularly toward pro-grams of preparation for the priesthood. It is likely, however, that many of the comments will apply to all who have chosen a celibate way of life. After briefly identifying some of my working assumptions, I shall discuss toe topics of sexuality, psychosexual maturity, intimacy and celibacy. In ad-dition, some questions about the effects of a homogeneous environment on preparation for. celibacy will be raised. The final section of the paper will offer some guidelines to seminary educators. Since each of these topics is so complex, 1 have focused my thougl~ts on their psychological aspects. My intent is not to minimize the moral and theological dimensions of these subjects. They are simply beyond my competence and are appropriately left to others. ~ 645 646 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Some Working Assumptions My discussion of psychosexual maturity is based upon certain assump-tions derived from empirical studies of healthy and mature persons and concepts of biological normality.~ These assumptions are: ---All forms of sexual expression are not equally reflective of normal psychosexual development; e.g., homosexuality. --The criteria for judging mature behavior in non-celibates will not necessarily be the same for celibates; e.g., procreation is normative ¯ for the species but trot for religious. --The absence of, or seeming immunity from, sexual striving and stresses is trot necessarily indicative of psychosexual harmony; e.g., the absence of conflict may be due to such mechanisms as repression. ---Mature individuals are not invariably stable or immune to dis-organization; e.g., a priest may have a personal crisis which tem-porarily disrupts confidence in his vocation, but over the long run the quality of his commitment can remain high. ---Strong, persistent motivations will assist the celibate in organizing purposeful-behavior; e.g., Christian directional stability helps one cope in an unstable, value-changing society. --The validity of concepts of psychosexual maturity does not rest upon their being evidenced in the personalities of most religious; e.g., in the Kennedy-Heckler stud), of the priesthood most priests were found to be underdeveloped. This does not mean, however, that psycho-sexual maturity is impossible in the priesthood. ---It is unlikely that I can propose a universally a6cepted concept of psychosexual maturity. The diversity and complexity°w, hich one may find in the experiential world of well functioning celibates has not been adequately researched and studied. Sexuality ' ~ ' The Sexualization of Celibate Life Sexuality is increasingly selected as a topic of discussion by celibates. The appearance of books, workshops, and articles devoted to various as-pects of this subject attest to this assertion. There is an apparent readiness on the part of many persons in religious life to address the phenomenon of "human sexuality. Indeed, there has been a curiously sudden emergence of "expert commentators" on the subject. In the past it was not that religious could deny that sex was a fact of life, but that many celibates simply did not regard it as a useful fact and could more easily avoid its role in their lives. It was not unusual for both religious and laity to think of celibacy as a state of being asexual. Today, with our widespread cul(ural relativism and appearance of psychological sophis- ~Douglas H. Heath, Explorations of Maturity (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1965), pp. 32-34. Warren J. Gadpaille, The Cycles of Sex (New York: Scribners, 1975), pp. 5-7. Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 647' tication, many old views are being displaced. "Experts," even though they be far removed from formation programs, seem capable of speaking at:great length and with great conviction about the preparation of men for priest-hood. However else we may describe these times, most certainly it will not be called an age of humility. Another sign of how sexuality has saturated our culture is that the noun "celibate" appears more and more frequently in print with modifiers like "sexual" or "genital." This facile use of terms does not automatically signify any real move toward maturity; it merely misleads some into think-ing they have made a substantial step in that direction. In such a climate we may start to believe that using the language of sexuality is,synonymous with being mature. The articulated vocabulary of sexuality doesn't easily trans, late into the nonverbal language of behavior. Despite the recent proliferation of publications and the shifts in attitude, I am inclined to believe that the practice of celibacy and the sexuality of celibates is I,argely an unknown. There is .little available evidence from serious, systematic study which adequately describes the impact of celi-bacy on the~lives of~priests and other, religious. We have operate~ with many assumptions and assertions about how difficult ',c, elibacy is, its"impact on personality functioning, and what resources prove us.eful, and which do not, in sustaining a p,erson in a celibate vocation. There is relatively little verifiable information about the d~gree of'sucCess which priests and reli-gious have achteved !,n rema~mng faithful, and not much common agree-ment as to the criteria for defining a healthy celibate life. In addition, the relationship of successful celibate commitment to type of preparation, per-sgnality, work satisfaction and age has not been clearly delineated. It may seem overly ~imple ~to state.my next observation in relation to the practice of celibacy, but sometimes the obvious is neglected. Sexual ab-stinence, like sexual gratification is a part-time, not a full-time experience. Persons who actively gratif.y t.heir sexual needs do not do so continuously any more than celibates have to rehounce genital e~prgssion continuously. The point is that sexual abstinence may have to be continual in religious life, but that d0es" not mean it i~ continuous." While it may be true that we now live in a society which insanely operates as though desire and gratificatio.n were synonymous and need to be experienced simultaneously, we may have been equally absurd in the past by overplaying the sacrificial nature of abstinence. Ih a sense, ~then, in efforts to redress some of the problems associated with an asexual approach, our concept of celibacy now seems to have become rather Sexualized, Education for Sexuality The celibate may a,,ccept~the~fact of his seXuality but it may not help him very ,much because the meaning of this fact keeps changing as the celibate zContinual refers to an indefinite succession or recurrence of events while continuous implies ,an uninterrupted experience with unchanging intensity and'withou~ modulation. Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 advances in age~ He soon learns that becoming an enlightened and re-sponsible sexual being is a life long challenge. Education for a celibate life is not just a task for the young seminarian. Sexuality presents different demands and has different meanings at different points in a person's life. For example, an individual may find the stresses ofa celibate priesthood. more manageable when he is young because a certain proportion of his interactions provide indications that he is regarded as an attractive male. As he ages, such reassuring experiences may0become infrequent and his self-image threatened. He may then become more imprudent in seeking con-firmation of his attracliveness as a man. In addition tothe changing nature of one's sexuality seminaries for the most part did not make it easy for students to acquire the knowledge, attitudes and skills which would enable them to understand what a celibate life-style entailed. While the introduction of courses on human sexuality has been of some help, there is still insufficient opportunity for students to discuss celibate life with priests and women religious because there still exists a sense of vulnerability and embarrassment among these groups. Preparation for a life of celibacy must involve more than such discrete events as coml61etion of a course in human sexuality, making vows or becoming ordained. Such events are no more a guarantee of mature sexual functioning for celibates than falling in love, gel~iing married and procreat-ing are for non-celibates. The seminary should strive: to impart to its stu-dents that the understanding, enjoyment and management of their sexuality is a continuing responsibility which must be shared wiih other persons. This responsibility does not cease with ordination. Al~ter a man leaves the semi-nary, he should be able to look forward to assistance from diocesan-spon-sored programs which will help him fulfill his commitment. Some Problems in Understanding Sexuality It is easy to assert that an understanding of the effect of sexuality on one's vocation depends upon comprehending the nature of sexuality. Such insight, however, is difficult to achieve. Our comprehension of human sexuality has been shaped as much by folklore and fantasy as by science and clinical experience. Our sources of knowledge have often been lacking in reliability. We have been limited as much by resistance in the scientific community as by social inhibitions. And what is perhaps more to the point, it is practically impossible for any individual to know at any given moment how his sexuality is affecting him any more than he generally knows how his circulation is affecting him. High sounding phrases like "sexuality is a fundamental aspect of personality functioning" are not much help in im-proving anyone's understanding of the role of sexuality in the priesthood or any other vocation. In fact, such statements often increase the dilemma because they make many persons feel secretly stupid not knowing more about what is so basic to their nature. For example, is a person':s sexuality minimally operative if he declares, "I do not need relationships with women Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 649 to know that I am male," because this is a fact that he can be sure of by referring to the anatomical evidence at hand? And is his sexuality maxi-mally operative when he admits "I need a woman to feel masculine," because masculinity is not a fact but a value which cannot be judged in the same .way?3 In the first instance the criteria to be used are physiological, whereas in the second they are cultural and subject to changes in value as circumstances of time and place vary. In short, discussing the influence of sexuality may be likened to dealing with a ghost. One can seek it out but never touch it. Psychosexual Maturity While we may readily acknowledge that sexuality is a real and com-prehensive aspect of our relationships with others, we are still left with the question of defining .psychosexual maturity. It is one thing to say that sexuality goes beyond genital expression, quite another to identify a healthy integration of the psychological and physical dimensions of one's behavior. Sexuality's potential is also its problem. A person brings to any human interaction a host of needs, vulnerabilities, attitudes and defenses, and he can manipulate them in a variety of ways. For example, if.an individual wishes to deny responsibility for his sexual acts he may rationalize by saying his behavior is determined by instinctive drives over which he has no control. If he is threatened by the changing roles of women he can extol the importance of tradition and the accuracy of existing male-female stereo-types. If he needs to reassure himself about his masculinity he can refer to the strength and passion of his sex drive. What I hope I am making clear is the complexity associated with psychosexual functioning. It takes a great deal of knowledge, experience and honesty to know whether one's sex-uality is operating as a mature or immature response to another person. There are several other reasons why it is difficult to define psychosexual maturity. First, the characteristics that constitute maturity may simply be those that are esteemed by the author of ttie definition, i.e., the definition may have little to do with objective reality but reflects the personal values of the author. It would be wise to acknowledge, however, that values do play a legitimate 'part in formulating a concept of psychosexual maturity. Even a developmental concept such as Erikson's eight ages of man which rests upon the assumption of an inborn sequence of phases coordinated to the social environment is not readily divorced from the issue of values.4 Secondly, mature men are not static stereotypes. Their individuality aFor a discussion of the differences between males and females, and the distinction between sex and gender, see: Ann Oakley, Sex. Gender and Society (New York: Harper, 1972) and Corinne Hutt, Males and Females (Baltimore: Penguin~, 1972), 4Some of the difficulties associated with defining maturity will be found in: Leon J. Saul and Sydney E. Pulver. "The Concept of Emotional Maturity." Comprehensive Psychiatry. Vol. 6, No. I. February. 1965 and reprinted in Cur~e.nt Issues in Psychiatry. Vol. 2 (New York: Science House, 1967), pp. 231-244. 650 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 remains viable because they haven't allowed themselves to be put into a mold. Studies indicate that "the further., a person develops, the more finely sketched is his individuality."''~ Stereotyped behavior is more com-mon with immaturity. Rogers has pointed out that a mark of maturity is openness to experience and that as this increases the less predictable the person's behavior will be. The person's behavior will be dependably ap-propriate, but not rigidly patterned.~ In short, we cannot expect that all psychosexually mature men will exhibit behavior which is exactly alike. Defining Psychosexual Maturity In offering a definition it is important to distinguish between appropriate and mature behavior. During childhood, adolescence or youth certain di-mensions of an =individual's behavior might be regarded as psychosexually appropriate. That is, his thought, affect or action might be suitable for or fit the appropriate growth period according to Freud's or Erikson's stages of psychosexual development. He would not, however, in my view be characterized aspsychosexually mature because he had not had the fullness of time to permit the development of a deep understanding, full acceptance and ample ripening of his capacities. Psychosexual maturity is evidenced in the fuller, accrued development and harmonious interplay of the individ-ual's psychological and sexual capacities within an ordered and ethical value system. Before discussing some of the behavioral aspects of this 9onstruct, several other generalizations may help clarify my position. Why is a reference to values included in the definition of psychosexual development? Menninger has stated that, "Insofar as choice determines behavior, it stems from some considerations of value.' ,7 Since it would be inconceivable to speak of mature persons without this dimension of choice, psychosexual development cannot be isolated from the influenc(~of values. There is no realistic way of separating the two. Adolescence is not successfully outgrown by sit'ply developing con-fidence in one's sexual and occupational identity. Development toward maturity rests upon the individual's ability to evolve an internalized value system? The individual making such progress, will not only recognize the personal reality of his sexuality, but will seek to identify, question, refine and incorporate a sexual ethic. Thus, the maturing individual discovers not only the vitality of his biological capacities, but also seeks to appreciate their value, understand their meaning and assume personal responsibility '~Roy Heath, The Reasouable Adventurer, A Study of the Development of Thirty-six Under-graduates at Princeton (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1964), p. 38. Also, Douglas A. Heath, Growing Up In College (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1968), pp. 4-19. 6Carl R. Rogers, "The Concept of the Fully Functioning Person," Psychotherapy, Theory, Research and Practice, Vol. I, No. I, August, 1963, pp. 17-26. tRoy W. Menninger, "'No Escape From Values," comment in Current Issues In Psychiatry, Vol. 2, p. 253. 6Warren J. Gadpaille, The Cycles of Sex (New York: Scribners, 1975), p. 338. Psychosexual Maturio, in Celibate Development / 65"1 for their use. His freedom to choose raises the prospect of making enduring commitments to fundamental values. This freedom to choose on the basis of what he values is a "strength-giving and maturing realization. It is the key that opens the door to adulthood.''9 Programs of spiritual development can make significant contributions toward encouraging this aspect of the matUring process. Psychosexual maturity is an approachable ideal but probably not an achievable end. It is more a direction than a destination. Psychosexual maturity is never completely static. Physical maturation, physical and psy-chological needs and human relationships are never finalized. The interplay of desire and control must be addressed again and again. The celibate cannot bank on earlier resolutions to provide certain and continuing pro-tection throughout life. Since personality resonates in response to life events, the celibate cannot be expected to acquire psychosexual maturity during his period of seminary training and possess it securely throughout his ministry. If he faces the vicissitudes of life, his development wili be an ongoing process. On the other hand, if he tended to avoid life's recurrent challenges his development will be retarded. Psychosexual maturity and immaturity will be basically reflected in the motives, feelings and actions that are part of one's interactions with others. In the following sections I shall try to identify psychosexual maturity and immaturity in more specific terms. Idehtifying Psychosexual Maturity Erikson has commented that "To know that adulthood is generative, does not necessarily mean that one must produce children. But it means to know what one does if one does not.''~° In assessing psychosexual ma-turity, one must ask what happens to the celibate's deferred generativity. Does it, like the poet Hughes puts it, "dry up like a raisin in the sun"?~ If we follow Erikson's thought, the potential to be generative exists in all celibates who concern themselves with the "establishment, the guidance, and the enrichment of the living generation and the world it inherits."v' It is clear, therefore, that potential ig not sufficient. Thus, the psychosexually mature celibate must keep his creative powers alive and utilize them in some publicly identifiable way. There must be a behavioral service to others, guided by an enlarged sense of communal responsibility for the enrichment and enhancement of the whole cycle of life. The mature celibate's generativity is principally demonstrated by an expansion of his ego-interests. An example of this might be a faculty mem-ber investing his energies in the development of seminarians. The young would not be suspect or feared. The faculty member would view his stu- ~Peter Koestenbaum, Existential Sexuality (Engelwood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall. 1974), p. 143. ~0 Erik H. Erikson, Dimensions of a New .Identity (New York: Norton, 1974), pp. 122-123. ~Langston Hughes, Selected Poems (New York: Knopf, 1959), p. 268. ~-"Erik H. Erikson, p. 123. 652 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 dents as a "welcome trust" for future generations. His work would be motivated by a caring commitment to help others share in the benefits that have accrued to him. The more mature a celibate is, the more his vision will extend beyond the topography of skin. Relationships with members of the opposite sex will be less a question of responding to a physically attractive person and more a caring response for what is good in the person. Such a view permits the celibate to direct his sexuality beyond genital expression. His attentiveness to others' needs is flexible rather than fixated. His sexuality functions not only to make him attentive to the sexuality of others, but also to be in-sightful. Without insight his sense of celibate commitment will not find appropriate expression. This means being able to experience and acknowl-edge the attraction between himself and a member of the opposite sex without, as Farber put it, "the intervention of sex as motive or compul-sion.'' 13 He experiences his sexuality without guilt or denial and he pursues his relationship without the motivation of physical union. When he touches another person it is an expression of warmth, not a covert maneuver to incite physical arousal in himself or the other. The psychosexually mature celibate loves individuals, not an abstract form of humanity. He can be psychologically intimate with persons of either sex without domination, possessiveness, jealousy or genital expression. When problems arise intra-psychically or interpersonally he assumes responsibility for getting help without protracted delays. The psychosexually mature adult is able to recognize and commit him-self to values, cope with value conflicts, and assume responsibility for the consequences of his choices. The more mature he is, the more voiced values will coincide with his private thoughts and behavior. His sexual urges will not put his value system and behavior "out of sync." In ad-dition, what he values will be prized and not treated routinely. He will see his ethical principles as having validity apart from, but not necessarily opposed to, the authority figures in his life. In other words, his valuing process is alive and well--not latent, deferred or unconscious. While it is impossible to delineate all aspects of psychosexual maturity, there are three additional points of reference which may be useful in as-sessing psychosexual functioning. The first is that the more mature a person is the more he will possess awareness. His mental life will not be walled off from his bodily functioning and powers. The mature celibate will be able to recognize and draw inferences from his sexual responses as they affect his interactions. The second is that his response to the requirement of celibacy will be more than acquiescence or conformity. He will have understood what he was choosing and was willing to accept it without bitterness. The more that an individual finds celibacy an ifiaposition, the more it will di-minish his degree of psychosexual harmony, just as the more he is re- ~Leslie H. Farber, "'He Said, She Said," Commentary, March 1972, p. 53. Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 653 pressed sexually the more his awareness will be constricted. The third point of reference is the individual's commitment to synthesis. If he is unable to take the various dimensions of himself and integrate them with his Christian commitment be'will be a fragmented personality. There must be a harmony bet.ween thinking, feeling, and acting if the individual is to move toward psychosexual maturity in religious life. Recognizing Psychosexual Immaturity When a celibate's thought, affect or behavior becomes absorbed with compensatory processes, his level of maturity may be questioned. Some examples of immature compensatory measures for the lack of genital ex-pression are: vicarious participation in the heterosexual experiences of parishioners or psychic over-involvement in seminarians' conflict about celibacy; absorption with making one's physical appearance attractive so as to gain admiration as a substitute for the absence of sexual contact; denying or demeaning the value and pleasure of genital expression.; and taking refuge in consoling fantasies of sexual gratification and conquest. A per-son's psychosexual development will not endure the challenges of celibacy very well if it rests upon a foundation of compensatory measures. The way in which a celibate experiences required heterosocial limita-tions and sexual abstinence is indicative of his level of psychosexual ad-justment. Neither gratification nor frustration exist in abstract form; both have cognitive aspects which affect emotions and behavior. For example, sexual abstinence can be experienced by the individual as frustration, i.e., lack of opportunity to achieve a desired pleasure, or it can be experien.ced as deprivation, i.e., something which he has been unfairly kept from en-joying. The difference between experiencing a sense of loss and sacrifice (frustration) and a sense of being forcibly dispossessed (deprivation) is a fine distinction in perception. Nonetheless, it is one which will profoundly color the celibate's response, influencing both his mood and behavior. The first type of perception can lead to the learning of tension and frustration tolerance which is an essential ingredient in healthy ego development. The second type of perception can lead to covert gratifications and severe intrapsychic conflicts. More generally, the more that a person's relationships are determined by subjective states of deprivation (e.g., loneliness) or physical drives (e.g., erotic urges), the more easily his judgment will be impaired, his behavior driven and his communication pressured. Under such conditions his sex-uality will keep him awake but not very alert or smart. It will be increasingly difficult for him to keep from narrowing the focus of his attention, and his interactions with others will be directed toward goals which he indepen-dently determines. The more that a person ,has been unable to accept and integrate his sexuality, the more he will use defense mechanisms like re-pression and projection to alleviate h.i~guilt. t554 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Psychosexual immaturity is bound up with the individual's personality dynamics. A comparison may help clarify this generalization. A passive-submissive celibate is likely to wait for a seductive situation to short-circuit his own vague intentionality, while an obsessive-compulsive will rely on some feared imperative to insulate himself from his sexuality. The pas-sive- submissive tends to relinquish his own indefinite goals under someone else's influence while the obsessive-compulsive, unable to compromise his perfectionism, seeks an unquestionable tenet to banish doubt from his decisions. The first exaggerates the extent to which his behavior has been determined by external circumstance, the second invokes an authoritative precept to relieve him of personal responsibility. Both suffer from a de-ficient sense of autonomy which in turn diminishes the degree of psycho-sexual maturity. An attempt to recognize immaturity is not a trivial matter. There is no universally accepted compendium or list of mature and immature behav-iors. In addition, the attempt is to illuminate psychosexual behavior not codify it. One cannot take a complex concept like psychosexual maturity and reduce it to a systematic and definitive collection of behaviors. This does not mean, however, that questions about a celibate's psychosexual maturity are to be dismissed cavalierly. The difficulties associated with such an assessment do not negate the fact that the quality of a person's psychosexual functioning impinges upon the effectiveness of his ministry to others. Immaturity is not a private affair. Wherever it exists it draws at-tention to itself and spreads like a contagion sapping energy from the maturity of others. Celibacy and Intimacy , Intimacy The. term intimacy enjoys a leading place in the popular idiom of celi-bates almost to the point of being accorded reverential respect. Despite the difficulty of offering fresh comment on something so in fashion, the subject is ,too central to be avoided. One reason why intimacy attracts such concern is the interpersonal mobility required of priests. Many pastoral contacts are so compressed in time they end up being fragmentary relationships. In addition, each time a priest takes a new assignment, a certain number of friends are lost. Replacement of such friendships is difficult, especially for those with limited flexibility. These factors, combined with others (e.g. ,job dissatisfaction) can create an overpowering sense of isolation and thereby threaten one's psychosexual adjustment. In spite of our tendency to venerate intimacy, it is not a universally desired experience. The prospect of closeness may repel as often as it attracts. In intimacy one gives up control of what is seen by the other. One cannot enjoy privacy without being, in a sense, "public." Thus, a major question facing a person who commits himself to celibate life is deciding Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 655 whether he will share his real identity with that of others. If he did not choose the vocation to avoid intimacy, he assumes a major task in deter-mining how to share his personal self. To what extent can an adult ex-perience love or develop close relationships with other adults when geni-tality is renounced? A loving sexual union permits a truly intimate self-disclosure; an unfeared self-abandonment and loss of ego boundaries that non-genital friendships seemingly cannot match. How is the celibate to prevent an atrophy of his capacity for intimacy and not isolate himself with self-absorption? These questions are important because the strength de-rived from successfully managing the issue of intimacy vs. isolation is necessary for further psychosexual development. The usual answer to the questions posed is that a celibate can satisfy his needs for intimacy in non-genital friendships. This, of course, can be a normal and satisfactory means of self-disclosure for experiencing oneness with another. In this regard one of the usual cautions cited is that "celibate people need to be aware of the difference between intimacy, tactility and genitality.''~'~ I do agree with Goergen's suggestion that celibates need to distinguish these dimensions of relating. I think, however, that in otir warn-ings to celibates about the dangers of touch and sexual expression in friend-ships we have neglected an aspect of non-geriital relating that is more likely to impede a successful resolution of the intimacy vs. isolation question. This negative'aspect of relating to which I refer will be termed protective partnerships. Erikson has defined readiness for intimacy as the capacity to commit oneself "to cbncrete affiliations and partnerships and to develop the ethical strength to abide by such commitments, even though they may call for significant sacrifices and compromises.''~ While many men in seminaries do develop group affiliations and personal friendships, these relationships sometimes reflect an unhealthy degree of mutuality. We have all heard about the possessiveness of "particular friendships," but the issue I wish to address is more a question of protection than control. A protective partnership involves a largely unrecognized conspiracy of two or more persons to maintain isolation and distance from others. The partners in-dulge each other's' sensitivities in a form of pseudo-intimacy. ~his relieves them of having to deal with the challenges of being intimate with others outside their clique. The partnership also serves to protect those involved from psychic injury and thr~ats ofdisconfirmation (e.g., from the needs aiad ideas of those outside the group). Individuals caught up in such protective alliances are uncomfortable with expressing personal needs and feelings outside the partnership. It makes them feel infantilized or overly vulner-able. Intimacy outside the safe confines of the partnership is avoided be- ~'~Daniel Goergen, The Sexual Celibate (New York: Seabury, 1974), p. 159. ~Erik H. Erikson, "'Eight Ages of Man," reprinted in Current Issues In Psy,chiatry, Vol. 2., p. 253. 656 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 cause of distrust, anticipated ridicule, .fear of increased dependency or loss of control of emotion. They will rarely offer or accept intimacy outside the partnership. Protective partnerships are an inadequate resolution of the intimacy question. They pose more danger to an effective ministry than sexual in-discretions. Since they permit only weak identifications with persons out-side the boundaries of the partnership, such relationships discourage the development of empathy for others and set the stage for a righteous in-sularity. Thus, the celibate while believing he has become intimate has actually developed a Woclivity for provincialism and isolation. His further development toward stages 9f generativity and ego integrity is impaired. P. sychosexual maturity, particularly for the celibate, requires the ability to develop expanding rather than constricting identifications. Another thing which will hinder possibilities for genuine intimacy is an inadequate concept of celibacy. Individuals who have neglected serious examination of their own concept of celibacy or who operate with only a vague set of feelings about its meaning are unprepared for intimacy because they are unprepared for commitment. Celibacy without conviction is a form of sexual suicide. In an excellent paper on the psychology and asceticism of priestly celibacy Pable offers several sophisticated insights which can help remedy such limitations.'~ For the young person in a formation pro-gram, however, there are more basic points that need to be addressed, First, it is not uncommon to find that seminarians will become rather insecure if they discover a discrepancy between the degree of confidence they feel about a call to the priesthood and their acceptance of the celibacy requirement. Often they do not become aware of this lack of internal con-sistency until they are in advanced stages of preparation for their vocation. The way in which seminarians deal with this dilemma varies of course, but frequently the conflict is inadequately evaluated or avoided. Avoidant be-havior is not confined to students, however, for seminary educators are sometimes equally adept in delaying or delimiting opportunities to discuss celibacy. The inclusion of formal courses in human sexuality rarely rem-edies this situation completely. Often a main effect of such courses is to bring such conflicts to a level of consciousness without resolution of the concomitant anxiety. Secondly, when sexual fears and impulses are regarded as signs of weakness and as constituting a grave threat to one's vocation, attempts at emotional overcontrol are set in motion. A premature identification with celibacy is one means of putting such concerns to rest. Then, at some later stage, sufficient ego strength will have occurred permitting these concerns to resurface. For these reasons it is important to have competent counseling services on hand so that students can be readily assisted in understanding and dealing with such conflicts. Many of these students can eventually make a sound commitment to celibacy. ~nMartin W. Pable. ~'The Psychology and Asceticism of Celibacy," Seminao' Newsletter Supplement, No, 5, Vol. 13, February 1975. Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 657 Clinical experience indicates that one should not assume the existence of a secure, firm acceptance of the celibacy requirement simply because students do not verbalize their uncertainties. On the other hand, seminary educators should not be quick to judge a student as unsuitable if he does raise questions or expose his doubts. Instances in which the celibacy issue was deferred or submerged until some external circumstance disturbed an earlier, and sometimes premature adaptation to the requirement are not unusual. Such a state of affairs may simply indicate that other aspects of the individual's development (e.g., intellectual learning) had to occur before the meaning of celibacy could be faced. Increasingly, students are taking initiatives in bringing their questions about celibacy into an open forum. Yet, there still remain in the minds of many seminarians strong fears that, if one were to air his true feelings, reprisals in the form of peer rejection and dismissal from the program might result. Thus, many go their own way for protracted periods of time without assistance in dealing with such internal tensions, thereby creating more ¯ problems for themselves and others. It is essential that seminary educators provide the kind of climate in which students feel secure enough to expose where they are at in their development. In the absence of the trusting climate, self-concealment reigns. In an untrusting climate the prospects of self-disclosure are decreased. This leads students to believe intima~cY is only possible in exceptional relationships. In such a climate associations with peers and fa6uity will be reduced to role playing in which the student seeks to conceal important dimensions of his psychosexual development. Even when he seeks inti-macy his tendency will be to obtain reassurances rather than candid en-counters which could challenge self-assumptions and expand knowledge of the quality of his psychosexual functioning. While any move toward intimacy is fraught with risks, e.g., rejection, exploitation and protective partnerships, it is nonetheless essential for healthy personality development in the young. Intimacy helps attenuate attitudes of egocentrism, suspicion, jealousy and omnipotence--all of which represent substantive obstacles to an effective ministry. Human sexuality is a stimulus to move toward others and away from self-cen-teredness. Without the challenge of intimate relationships the seminarian's potential for genuine altruism remains quiescent. A third point deserving consideration is the common practice of re-ferring to celibacy as a gift. This gift analogy can be psychologically mis-leading to the young person. Much of one's youthful experience indicates that a gift is a material thing, and that one can (or must) accept a gift whether one wants it or deserves it? With such an orientation to the gift analogy the seminarian may fail to give sufficient attention to his own readiness for celibacy, thereby setting the stage for problems after ordination. For when celibate Status is viewed as a thing given rather than attained, it is more likely to be passively possessed until "stolen, lost or given away." Thus, Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 if one insists, on using the gift analogy it should be stressed that the gift is a sacred trust and that its possessor has an obligation to prepare himself before it can be put to proper use. The proper exercise of such a gift depends upon personal effort to acquire the necessary knowledge and maturity. It should be evident at this point that my discussion of celibacy has proceeded in an explicitly psychological fashion. However, the question of celibacy obviously has religious value and theological meaning. Have I, then, given short shrift to these important dimensions of the celibate com-mitment? Specifically, has my concentration on personal development and effort slighted the importance of God's call and grace? I think not. Indeed, .my persuasion is that psychological analysis and theological insight are complementary. Grace does not replace the human process of develop-ment. It strengthens and perfects that process. And for God's call to be fruitful, it must be integrated into the mature growth of the human subject. Thus, the theological language of "gift" must be complemented by the psychological insistence upon mature human development if the entire sweep of human experience is to be engaged and the full implications of commitment are to be grasped. Creativity in Intimacy and Celibacy In completing this section on celibacy and intimacy I want to introduce the~subject of creativity for two reasons. First, I want to counter the popular tendency, to view intimacy solely in term~ of close and affectionate personal relationships. Such a concept of intimacy is too limiting, particularly for persons who will be living a celibate life. There is need to recognize another kind of intimacy which, while involving deep understanding and sensitive response, does not depend upon a mutual opening of hearts. I am referring to what, fof lack of a better label, may be termed creative intimacy. The person who is capable of this kind of intimacy has reached a level of psychosexual development which permits committed and perceptive re-lationships without the reassuring prerequisite of secret emotional ties. The research physician who invents a novel and needed procedure, the archi-tect who designs appropriate housing for unique terrain and the scholar's treatise which brings order out of confusion are all examples of a com-mitment to intimacy. Each establishes a link between the complexities of external demands and inner personal resources. A celibate who is. capable of involved interest with a subject (e.g., Scripture), a place (e.g., his parish) or a group (e.g., the aged) is not apt to suffer from a sense of isolation. In short, it is possible to relate intimately to life by being deeply affected by and responsive to ideas, situations and problems without requiring sexual union or an emotional heart transplant as a condition for an enriching experience. The creative person's contributions to society are evidence of this unconventional form of intimacy. A second reason for focusing on creativity is that its place in the prep- Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 659 aration of men for celibate life has received insufficient attention despite the fact that it has long enjoyed a respectable status in educational circles. By way of illustration consider the following questions: (1) What priority do psychological screening programs place on identifying creative capacities in candidates for priesthood? (2) How much do we know (or utilize what is known) about how creativity may be linked to the sub-limation of the sex. drive? (3) To what extent are seminary educators con-tentto rely on those tired, thoughts which assert that creative individuals cannot survive seminary environments, are troublesome to superiors, and that creativity is largely a product of inheritance? It seems ironic that we who identify God as Creator, and man as having been created in his image can manage to prepare men for a celibate priesthood with so little emphasis upon the identification and encouragement'of creativity. Seminaries have yetto acknowledge through curriculum design that a celibate's creativity is a most valuable resource in coping with the daily stresses of life. In a previous section the question was asked, "What happens tO the celibate's deferred: generativity?" Perhaps another way of answering this question can be found in linking celibate status with creativity. Specifically, celibacy can be viewed as a distinctive means of being consciously cre-ative. In associating celibacy with creativity I am thinking of MacKinnon's statement that true creativity fulfills at least three conditions: (1)originality, (2) adaptiveness, and (3) realization .~7 As for the first (originality), celibacy is an idea that is always novel, unique, or at least statistically infrequent. As for the second point, celibacy is adaptive in that it serves to fit the situation of ministry to accomplish some recognizable g0al. And to the third condition (realization)~ celibacy involves sustaining the original work of Jesus and further extending it in time. With this perspective we may de-crease the likelihood that celibacy will be viewed as a static, asexual status. Instead, celibacy will be seen as a more active, generative relationship with the world. The Homogenous Environment Life in an all male environment is not an asexual experience. The stu-dent's premises about his sexual identity, his level of self-esteem and his interest in persons of either sex do not remain static during the seminary years as though preserved in a time capsule. They continue to be chal-lenged, modified and shaped' by the character of the environment. For many years the average seminarian lives, studies and recreates in an environment which provides minimal contact with or input from women. What lesson is learned by this absence of women? How well does this help seminarians make the transition to our highly seductive society? How does this prepare them to develop more than a theoretical understanding of the lrDonald W~ MacKinnon, "The Nature and Nurture of Creative Talent." Lecture given at Yale University,New Haven, Conm, April I I, 1962. 660 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 needs, abilities and conflicts of women who may come to them for counsel? Celibacy has to be lived in a heterosexual society. Rules against hetero-social contacts during periods of formation do not guarantee proper de-velopment. If seminarians have to compensate for the lack of women in their edu-cational experience, they will attempt to do so without the guidance of their faculty. They will use apostolic assignments or vacations to seek both heterosocial and heterosexual experiences which would otherwise be de-nied them during regular periods of education. In some instances, the relationships which develop will be maintained in secret. Such experiences are often invested with many romantic and sometimes bizarre fantasies of meaning. They also provoke much guilt and tension and sometimes incite fears which are repressed, producing unconscious conflicts with conse-quent anxiety. It has become increasingly evident that when problems of relating to women have to be faced in secret it makes for lonely failures. The seminarian who is separated and/or alienated from women for whatever reason (fear, ignorance, choice or official policy) must turn with more urgency upon himself or others in his immediate environment to meet his needs for recognition, affiliation and love. In such homogenous popula-tions, expressions of affection and physical contact are cautiously exposed and become over-invested with meaning. There is an ever present fear that such gestures will be interpreted as, or turn into, homos6xual intimacies. This kind of tension often remains unacknowledged, but is nonetheless virulent. It produces much frustration and resentment which is often en-countered by the psychologist in the form of depression, displaced ag-gression, problems of concentration, coldness in interpersonal contacts, compulsive masturbation, isolation, and the rise of tight cliques. Each institution should provide appropriate opportunities for seminarians to learn about, and become comfortable with, members of the opposite sex. "Social restrictions" and "sexual abstinence" should not be confused. The concepts are not isomorphic. Policies and regulations which forbid or delimit heterosocial contacts do not automatically insure healthy attitudes toward self-regulation or guarantee the development of the capacity for abstinence in later life. Celibates also need to realize that abstinence does not automatically confer the capacity to love people in general any more than incontinence in marriage increases love for someone in particular. Neither the frustration nor the expression of the sex drive is innately di-rected toward the good. The capacity for sex in humans simply endows them with the potential of becoming psychosexually mature. It is in inter-actions with others that opportunities for growth and understanding de-velop. The Environment's Models Seminary administrators must realistically assess the extent to which members of their faculty are prepared by virtue of education, experience Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 66"1 and personal disposition to participate in those aspects of the formation program which relate :to human sexuality. Many priests have had poor preparation and limited experience and would be ill at ease or unsuited for such responsibility. It would be unfair and unwise to neglect such con-siderations. If present faculty are not comfortable with their own sexuality or are incompetent in their understanding of it, they cannot project them-sel~, es as adequate role models or teach effectively. Example is stronger than precept. Students need visible proof that it is possible to be mature and well-integrated sexually in the priesthood. There is nothing more demor-alizing to seminarians than examples of underdeveloped faculty charged with responsibility for their preparation of a life of celibate ministry. Modeling is a powerful force for formation and growth. It assists the seminarian in coping with the stresses of his environment, aids in the development of responsibility and helps perpetuate the valu6s that define the priesthood. More than anything else, a seminary must offer models who are worthy of imitation. Such models should be capable of candid con-versations concerning celibacy. They should exhibit desirable patterns of male-female interaction. They should be persons who have not distanced themselves from their own sexuality. They should not be overly constricted academicians or overly eager confidantes who take students under their wing to protect them from conflicts with celibacy. The, y should be able to take questions from Students without becoming overly threatened, angry or embarrassed. They should be the kind of advisers who are not impelled to define venereal sin whenever a student discloses a sexual problem. I emphasize the importance of appropriate role models because they are the most available source of identification with the priesthood. Good mod-els teach and motivate simultaneously. On the other hand, poor models lead to unhealthy identifications and raise the anxiety leV,el of students. For example, seminarians exposed to poor models are apt to say to t.hemselves, "Will I turn out like him ?" when they should be saying about a good model, "I want to be like him." Healthy identification reduce~ fear and anxiety about the priesthood. When a seminarian can identify with an exemplary person, his sub-jectiv~ benefit is that he believes he is part of the exemplary person. When that happens, he is freer to ease away from infantile or regressive tend-encies. He gives up his more childish and selfish desires because he is acquiring positive, generative adulthood in return. Good faculty models can illustrate that genital expression is not the essence of warmth, masculinity, and friendship. Seminaries, like other educational institutions, have faculties which possess a range of competencies and wide variations in levels of maturity. This is not the issue. The significant issue is how we recognize this fact of life. This recognition should take the form of careful assignment of re-sponsibility in this area, use Of competent consultants, and support for regular in-service training and continuing education for the faculty. 662 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 With a view toward offering more specific suggestions for helping semi-narians' progress toward sexual maturity the following guidelines are offered: I. Maintain high standards in the selection of candidates. This would require'defining criteria, and training the admissions committee to do its job well. The seminary environment is not suited to be a place where major reconstructive therapy can be conducted. Persons of weak char-acter, sociopathic tendencies and serious personality defects may find the seminary environment a haven for their limitations, but once or-dained they do not make good priests. They eventually create compli-cated and expensive personnel-management problems, alienate the laity, perform po6rly and thereby threaten the work of their colleagues, and remain visibly inadequate models for attracting future vocations. 2. Provide professional counseling as a regular part of seminar3, services. This will enable students with relatively minor psychological problems to be assisted in their development. In addition, each seminary envi-ronnhent will inevitably produce certain situational dist~arbances in a proportion of its students. These are transient disorders from a mild to severe nature which occur without any underlying mental pathology. They represent normal reactions to such stressful factors as disruption of previously established interpersonal relationships, fear of faculty dis-approval and unfamiliar academic demands. It is important to detect and recognize such adjustment reactions quickly and have counseling ser-vices available to help students cope. Sometimes an orientation course for first year men will head off some of these situational disorders. 3. Course offerings in the area of human sexuality and the practice of celibacy should be characterized by providing: (a) competence: they should offer suffi~:ient scientific content and contemporary material to enable s, tudents to learn the facts, social attitudes and real problems associated with human sexu.ality; (b) comfort: opportunity to discuss, question and dialogue without threat of ridicule, embarrassment, or fear of faculty or peer censure; (c) conviction: conveying in unmistakable terms.that growth in psychosexual maturity is a life long task which is part of every individual's priestly responsibility. " 4. Include women in the program in more than token fashion. Women can contribute as lecturers, panelists, and consultants. A feeling of security with women and an appreciation of their needs, values and competencies cannot be acquired in an all-male program. Their inclusion should not be prompted by condescension. For example, they should be included not to demonstrate that "women think diffeyently," but rather that they do think. The exclusion of women .hampers seminarians' development more than it insures it. 5. Exercise greater care in assessing readiness for celibacy. Programs of formation may need to place greater emphasis on assessing an indi- Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 663 vidual's psychological readiness to commit himself to celibacy. One must not assume that a seminarian's advancement in academic prepa-ration is indicative of other aspects of his readiness for priesthood. Conclusion In this paper sexuality and maturity were discussed in relation to celi-bate development. By general comment and specific illustration I attempted to show that psychosexual maturity is not only an abstract concept .but also an identifiable reality. I also tried to indicate that progress toward psycho-sexual maturity is made more by choice than chance, more by intelligent effort than passivity. In the process of offering these comments much emphasis was placed on what seminary educators can do to foster healthy celibate development. It would be misleading to leave the impression that I wished to understate the role of the individual. The young celibate must be encouraged and assisted to develop an increasing level of personal accountability for his psychosexual functioning. This can only be accom-plished if we view immaturity as a responsibility, not a crime to be followed by punishment or self-hate. Now Available As A Reprint Psychosexual Maturity in , Celibate Development by Philip D. Cristantiello Price: $.60 ~per copy, plus postage. Address" Review for Religious Room 428 6301 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis Robert F. Morneau Father Morneau's name is familiar to our readers. He resides at Holy Reedemer Center and teaches at Silver Lake College; Manitowoc, WI 54220. In teaching people the truths about his Father's kingdom, Jesus often used examples from nature: the simple sparrow, the lush lilies of the field, the unfortunate fig tree, the nonverbal clues of the sky, the miraculous yeast. Through these concrete images, deeper mysteries were unveiled opening the minds and hearts of people to the marvels of God's gracious love. We can do no better than to fall back on nature to attempt, through the use of analogy, to ponde~ the multifold facets of our faith. From the world of biology comes the notion of homeostasis which can assist us in under-standing the necessity of grounding our lives on solid rock. Dr. Hans Selye summarizes the essential meaning of this biological principle: It was the great French physiologist Claude Bernard who during the second half of the nineteenth century--well before anyone thought of stress--first pointed out clearly that the internal environment (the milieu interieur) of a living organism must remain fairly constant despite changes in its external environment, lie realized that "'it is a fixity of the mi6eu interieur which is the condition of free and independent life.'" Some fifty years later, the distinguished American physiologist, Walter B. Cannon suggested that "the coordinated physiological processes which maintain most of the steady states in the organism" should be called "'homeostasis" (from the Greek homoios, meaning similar, and stasis, meaning position), the ability to stay the same, or static. Homeostasis might roughly be translated as 'bstaying power."'~ ~Hans Selye, M.D., Stress Without Distress (New York: J. B. Lippincott Company,1974), pp. 34-35. 664 Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 665 The homeostatic principle, as applied to the external world, needs little documentation as to its importance due to the writings in the field of ecology. What needs considerable reflection is the importance and meaning of spiritual homeostasis, that reality in our spiritual lives which is the force enabling us to maintain a certain level of stability despite radical and often-times violent changes in our external environment. Spiritual homeostasis is the cultivation of a certain internal stability, developed through grace and discipline, that enables a person to "weather" the trials, temptations and sufferings of life in a reasonable manner. Several examples from observable nature might help in understanding the notion of homeostasis. A palm tree survives the violence of a hurricane because its roots (homeostatic elemen~t) are deeply embedded in the soil; the March kite maintains a modicum of stability because of its carefully attached tail; the sailboat does not become the plaything of the strong breeze because of its rudder. Roots, a weighted rag, and a vertical board each provide stability despite elements of stress and strain. By way of comparison, each of us must face the demands of life, demands arising from within and without. If we are not to be carried away by the high winds of life, there must be some grounding element providing continuity and sta-bility. This essay is a consideration of this grounding, of our spiritual homeostatic principle. A note of caution is in order: the inward journey, made either to con-struct our inner principles or to examine the ones that already direct our lives, involves risks and the universal fears 9f travelers. Carl Jung wrote of these risks: Wherever there is a reaching down into innermost experien~:e, into the nucleus of personality, most people are overcome by fright, and many run away . the risk of inner experience, the adventure of the spirit, is in any case, alien to most human beings,z Of a!l the reasons for hesitating to make the journey, perhaps the great-est fear lies in the possibility that we will find nothing there--no homeo-static principle grounding our lives in "substance." For all our talk, re-flecting and apodictic shouting, the interior could be empty--and who could live if that were true? Dante, in describing the precious coin of faith (the ultimate homeostatic principle) and its fine attributes, dares to ask the fatal question: Well have we examined The weight and alloy of this precious coin; But tell me if thou hast it in thy purse? 3 ~C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, recorded and edited by Aniela Jaffa, translated from the German by Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Vintage Books, 1961). pp. 140-141. 3Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, translated by Lawrence Grant White (New York: Pantheon Books, 1948), Canto 24, p. 171. 666/Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Just as the kite's tail needs periodic mending, just as the sailboat's rudder needs annual repairs', just as the tree's roots need constant contact with the dark rich soil, so each of us must make our own inward journey, despite risks and fears, to examine the quality and growth of our ho-meostatic principle. Let us take St. Paul as our "case study" and attempt to isolate his homeostatic principle. Even if the attempt fails, enough insight, might be provided for each of us to either clarify or construct our own spiritua! anchor. Pauline scholars might opt for one of the following passages as being central to Paul's spirituality, central in that all of life's experiences might be related to it for meaning and insight: Let your thoughts be on heavenly things, and n6t on things that are on earth, because you have died, and now the life you ha're is hidden with Christ in God.4 And I live now not with my own life but with the life of Christ who lives in me? Though not excluding the central~messages in the above two passages, my own personal choice of Paul's homeostatic principle comes from a passage in his letter to the Ephesians: Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. who has blessed us with all ihe spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ. Before the world was made, he chose us, chose us in Christ, to be holy and spotless, and to live through love in his presence . ~ Taking as an hypothesis, that "to live through love in his presence" was Paul's spiritual cable, what are some of the implication's of this homeostatic principle? To Live: Union with the Spirit The Pepsi generation shouts out the challenge: Come alive! Whether or not a carbonated soda can achieve such a towering feat ~could be ques-tioned; the challenge cannot. We are called to choose life (Dt 30:15-20), to share in the fullness of life (Jn 10:10), to live injustice, love and faith (Mi 6:8). Yet, because of collective and personal sin, our existences are frag-mented and our potential lies dormant under piles of "shoulds," "tomor-rows," and "new years." We see but do not comprehend, listen but do not understand, touch but remain unaffected. Walter Kerr sees our dilemma in this light: If I were required to put into a single sentence my own explanation of the state of our hearts, heads, and nerves, 1 would do it this way: we are vaguely wretched because we are leading half-lives, halfheartedly, and with only one-half of our minds actively engaged in making contact with the universe about us.r 4Colossians 3:2-3. (All scriptural quotations are taken from the Jerusalem Bible.) ~Galatians 2:20. 6Ephesians 1:3-4 (italics mine, indicating the Pauline homeostatic principle). 7Walter Kerr, The Declhte of Pleasure (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1962), p. 12. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 667 Every so often someone crosses our path whose very spirit exudes life. Sparkling eyes, a lightness of voice, gentle responses, all mark a sense of meaningand motivation. A personal creativity overflows, smoldering wicks and healing,crushed reeds (Is 42:3). Such a presence is anticipated with longing and remembered with joy. He gives life because he has life within. A .quality of transparency allows all he meets to. taste and see life itself. In the presence of such a life-giver the question spontaneously arises: "What is all .this juice and all this joy (Hopkins)?" The Christian traces such a spirited life to the Spirit. God the Father and "therisen Lord haye sen't, into all creation their Spirit. Whoever receives this Spirit truly comes alive. Whoever refuses the Spirit or fails to recognize the the Spirit's presence lives in darkness, half-alive, wallowing in ignorance and fear, fretting'in anxieties and tears, doubting the meaning of existence. A spiritless Macbeth, no longer able to sustain his guilt, attempts to pre-serve. a modicum of sanity,by denying,the meaning of life: Out, bul brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And t.hen is heard no more;it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Sign.ifying nothing,s Without the Spirit darkness reigns and we curse that darkness. Life be-comes a burden too difficult to bear,and freedom a poisonous responsibility. St. Paul was graced with the gift of the Spirit. To live was to be in conscious, personal union, with this Reality and to act from this center. Three basic forms of acting out a Spirit-transformed mind and heart include a spirit of loving attention, a spirit of joyful mortification and a spirit of courageous action. Aliveness in Paul's life embraces a balanced life of prayer, asceticism and apostolate, all flowing from his being loved by God and attempting to live in return. The quality and tonality of,the response is crucial. Each of these three areas, though of significance in and of them-selves, is entirelydifferent when shared in fellowship with the Spirit and is essentially response, to a personal invitation to communicate with, to suffer with, and to work with the Spirit of the Father and the Son. This divine companionship doubles all the victories in .building up the kingdom and halves the apparent defeats. Spirit of loving attention. It is possible to be attentive to someone or something without love. The hostile stare or the crowded "personless" elevator ride are two instances. A vague'love is also possible, unable to center on a defined object: "I love humanity but find it difficult to love individual people." Such forms of attentiveness and unspecified love do not allow us to live fully, God's Spirit draws us to truly :see, perceive, com-prehend the creation in which we live. Pausing to be embraced by a spring 8William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act V, sc. v, lines 23-28. 661~ / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 flower, stopping suddenly to be swept heavenward by a starry night, being swept off one's feet by a warm night breeze are strains of deeper mysteries and realities. So many layers blocking our sensitivity must be penetrated if we are to be touched by outside realities; so much cluttering has made us inattentive to the voices of friends and the needs of the wounded, Poets are eternal prophets calling all of us to attention, to a loving attention of truth and beauty: Look at the stars! Look, look up at the skies! O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! 9 The homeostatic principle ("to love . . .") in the life of St. Paul con-tained a deep love and a profound concentration as he journeyed through life. Because of this not only the man but his writings are so alive. Spirit of joyful mortification. Paradoxically, life embraces death, self-actualization of necessity involves self-denial. Without reflecting on this phenomenon, most of us would have to struggle to accept the comple-mentarity of the living-dying mystery. Yet if we glance for a moment into the lives of people who have evidenced life to the full, we come across the fact of much voluntary suffering and dying. Teresaof Avila, called by God to reform her religious community, freely accepted the ridicule and ha-rassment that went along with this leadership role; Thomas More, request-ed by his king to sign his name to a document which would mean that his life would be spared, freely accepted death rather than lose his integrity and be unfaithful to his God; Cardinal Newman, drawn to the Roman Catholic Church, followed his religious belief in the face of the pain of being alien-ated from friends and kin by such a decision. In each case there was tremendous suffering; in each case there was new, powerful life. The de-mands were not limited to a giving of one's time and energy, rare com-modities in themselves, but a giving on a much deeper levbl: the giving of oneself. A denial of self for the sake of life we identify as mortification. Is it possible to speak of joyful mortification? Two considerations come to mind. First, there is joy in the act of mortification because the focus rests not on the suffering, though it is the immediate fact, but centers on the life that comes through the self-denial. Had Teresa of Avila dwelt on the sneers and raised eyebrows of some members of her order, her call to reformation could well have been delayed for some time; had Thomas More dwelt on the pain of execution, his commitment to the truth might have been threatened; if Cardinal Newman had centered on the anguish and affliction resulting from separating himself from so many dear friends, his conversion would have become increasingly difficult. The secret of their ability to deny them~ selves and accept the price of asceticism wasa vision of the good that would be achieved. "Joy is the knowledge that we possess something that is good" (Abbot Marmion). And though the good may well be miles down the road and a matter of long-range consequences, those who see are.enabled to joyfully deny themselves. 9Gerard Manley Hopkins, "'The Starlight Night." Spiritual Staying Power." Homeostasis / 669 A second, more powerful and more personal reason for joy lies in the fact that the Christian practices mortification in union with the. Lord. Just as Jesus suffered freely in reconciling the world to the Father, so too the Christian must pick up his cross voluntarily if he truly desires to share in the risen life. Failure to suffer in union with Christ runs the risk of self-righteousness, false pride and inevitable sadness. The grace needed is the generosity to do all things in Christ. Our fasting, our giving of time, our withhOlding that "brilliant insight''~° so that others might be free to speak, are all forms of denying self but in conjunction with the Lord. Joy results in sharing life together--whether that embraces health or illness, success or failure, peace or conflict--the important thing being the mutuality and not the positive or negative experience. Mortification takes on ful[ reality as one means of participation in the life of Christ. This fellowship, this partic-ipation, is the source of our joy. St. PauFs aliveness is characterized by both joy and mortification. His letters to the early ~Christian churches, permeated with so much suffering yet with an ex~ravaga~at generosity, provide us with sufficient evidence that Paul might well be a paradigm for all aspiring ascetics: For 1 am certain of this: neither death nor life, no angel, no price, nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power, or height or depth, nor any created thing, can ever come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord?~ We are only the earthenware jars that hold this treasure, to make it clear that such an overwhelming power comes from God and not from us. We are in difficulties on all sides, but never cornered; we see no answer to our problem, but never despair; we ~ have been persecuted, but never deserted; knocked down, but never killed; always, wherever we may be, 'we carry with us in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus, too, may always be seen in our body. Indeed, while we are still alive, we are consigned toour death every day,.for the sake of Jesus, so that in our mortal flesh the life of Jesus, too, may be openly shown. So death is at work in us, but life in you?z Paul's homeostatic principle dealt directly witch the external pressures that could have possibly destroyed his internal equilibrium. Graced with the Spirit of joyful mortification, those pressures and possible destructive forces were turned into growth experiences. Spirit of courageous service. Living involves doing. Through the in-carnational activity of enfleshing one's mission in word and deed, St. Paul strove to realize his calling as the apostle to the Gentiles and to bring about the reconciliation which was the work of Christ. Paul's metabolism was seldom low. ,~fter rechanneling his energies beginning with the Damascus experience., he responded to God;s call in building up the kingdom of God. His activism flowed from interior prayer and self-denial. Paul's life was balanced and full. ~o,,. and when he saw that the splendor of one of his pictures in the Exhibition dimmed his rival's that hung next to it, secretly took a brush and blackened his own." Essay by R. W. Emerson entitled "Character." ~Romans 8:38-39. ~z2 Corinthians 4:7-12. 670 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 One central dimension of Paul's apostolic work was bearing witness to the good news of Jesus Christ, God's love made visible to the world, A typical example is recorded in the Acts when Barnabas and Paul arrive at Antioch. How many times this type of sharing must have happened: On their arrival they assembled the church and gave an account'of all that God had done with them, and how he had opened the door of faith to the pagans.~3 In this particular instance the message and faith sharing was received with openness and joy, and they remained in Antioch for some time. More often, in attempting to fulfill the task of being an instrument of God's saving power among men, Paul was rejected and sometimes 6eaten (Ac 14:19; 2 Co l l:24ff). Speaking the truth involved paying a pric~. But since the truth - leads to freedom, the goal of the spiritual life, Paul had to speak it to remain true to his calling. He did not take the adx;ice of the old Turkish proverb: "He that would speak the truth must have one foot in the stirrup.''14 Missioned, being sent, seldom is limited to verbal sharing. Such was the case with St. Paul. He was commissioned to heal by living out the message he preached. Paul was a battle scarred disciple: Paul's concern for the poor, his gathering of money, evidence a social consciousness; his commitment to and vision of God's universal salvific will elicited extravagant energies to actualize this goal; his unwillingness to impose himself on others, thus being a burden to them, meant the retention of his tent mak!ng profession. Sensitive to'a variety of human and spiritual needs, skilled with the competencies and graced with love, Paul reached out to his fellow pilgrims helping them to grow as humari beings and preparing them to experience the good news of God's mercy and love. "To live" embraces loving attention, joyful mortification and coura-geous service. Paul is a fine model in that he followed Christ so well. Every Christian is challenged to get caught up into this way of living. The fi~st integrating ribbon on the tail of.our March kite provides solid material for homeostasis. It balances, stabilizes, as well as anchors the Christian in some depth realities. "To live" is to be one with the Spirit of Jesus and the Father; it involves a sharing in the Spirit ofcontemplatik, e prayer, voluntary asceticism and social concern. Through Love: Union with the Risen Lord The central experience of human life is being loved. So important is this experience that without it there is no hope of happiness and~minimal ex-pectation for sanity. The good news contained in the life of Jesus testifies once and for all that everyone is loved, "that our own existence in fact testifies to nothing less than our being loved by the Creator.''~5 Objectively 13Acts 14:27. ~'~See John W. Gardner and Francesa Gardner Reese, Know or Listen to Those Who Know (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1975), p. 233. ~SJosef Pieper, About Love, translated by Richard and Clara Winston (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1972), p. 31. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 671 this is the~ase; Subjectively, whether ornot we come to taste the truth of God's love, this is the most significant question of our lives. St. Paul experienced God's love: what was objectively true from the first moment of his existence became subjectively a reality when he surrendered to the call of grace. Love experienced meant a rebirth which radically changed his entire existence. Throughout the rest of his life's journey and beyond, he lived "through love" in God's presence. Though Paul knew that God's love for him was triune, it was in and through Jesus that the Father's fidelity and the Spirit's indwelling were revealed. Thus, we can focus on the quality and texture of Christ's personal love for Paul as we examine the second element in the suggested Paulirie h6meostatic principle. In doing this we realize that Paul knew that c~on-version was primarily an interior reality touching the mind and hdart. His being thus transformed interiorly showed itself in the external conversion of life-style. It is the transforming presence of Christ in our hearts and the knowledge of this love in our understanding that brings about spiritual renewal: Out of his infinite glory, may he give you the power through his Spirit for your hidden self to grow strong, so that Christ may live in your hearts through faith, and then, planted in love and built on love, you will with all the saints have strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth; until, knowing the love of Christ, which is beyond all knowle~dge, you are filled with the utter fulness qf God.~ ' To live through love means to live in Christ Jesus; to allow his wisdom to shape our attitudes, to surrender'to his affectivity which transforms our hearts, and to .be enabled through his power to share with others the gifts that we have received. Jesus' Wisdom To live in union with the loving Lord necessarily means to be embraced by his wisdom and to share in that gift. In the book of Wisdom we are told that the gift of wisdom has these traits: 1) wisdom is the consort of God's throne; 2) to lack the wisdom is to count for nothing; 3) wisdom knows God's works; she was present when the world was made; 4) wisdom under-stands what is pleasing in God's eyes; she teaches this; 5) wisdom knows and' understands everything,lr Insight and deep knowledge can be cold and sterile. Such is not the case of the wisdom of Christ in whi~zh Paul shared. Rather it was a loving knowledge leading the intellect to true and full understanding. Throughout the ages various writers have noted the' relationship between love and the cognitive dimension of human knowing: Thus love is the parent of faith.l~ ~SEphesians 3:16-19. ~TWisdom 9:1-6, 9-11. iSJohn Henry Newman, "Holy Scriptures" in Essays and Sketches (New York: Longman, Green & Co., 1948), p. 328. 672 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 We could almost say he sees because he loves, and therefore loves although he sees?9 What ha~ to be healed in us is our true nature, made in the likeness of God. What we have to learn is love. The healing and the learning are the same thing, for at the very core of our essence we are constituted in God's likeness by our freedom, and the exercise of that freedom is nothing else but the exercise of disinterested love--the love of God for his own sake. because he is God. The beginning of love is truth, and before he Will give us his love, God must cleanse our souls of the lies that are in them.2° To live through love means that the truth given us enables us to see and to believe. Jesus' love provides us with a vision of reality thereby scattering darkness and ignorance. Wisdom is to know the Father, a Father of loving fidelity and infinite mercy; our wisdom is to live from this central insight. "Through love" contains both a passive and active dimension: we are first loved in truth (passive) and then are missioned to reach out in deep concern (active). In the spiritual classic The Cloud of Unknowing, the importance of living and acting within God's love is stressed: 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 ne6d and respond with a generosity unspoiled by selfish intent. Anything you attempt to do without this love will certainly b~ imperfect, for it is sure to be marred by ulterior motives,z~ St. Paul told the Philippians to have the same attitude that Christ had. This exhortation was grounded in lived experience, for Paul had himself put on the mind and attitudes of Christ. Paul's vision, his judgments and con-ception of life resembled those of Jesus who focused on the Father. In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul gives evidence of how gifted he was with God's loving wisdom when, in his letter, he describes the divine plan of salvation (Ep 1:3-14). Two verses of that magnificent passage provide sufficient wit-ness to that wisdom: He has let us know the mystery of his purpose, the hidden plan he so kindly made in Christ from the beginning to act upon when the times had run their course to the end; that he would bring everything together under Christ, as head, everything in the heavens and everything on earth.22 Jesus' Affectivity To live through love for Paul was to experience transformation of one's heart. Paul was a man deeply in love; how else explain his commitment and unmatched zeal. The love of the risen Lord touched the very center of Paul's being in an intimate and personal way, resulting in a response of deep affectivity; his heart was on fire with the concern that Jesus showed him. Several centuries after Paul, another Christian underwent a spiritual heart ~9C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (New York: The Seabury Press, 1961), p. 57. Z°Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1948), p. 451. ~The Cloud of Unknowing, edited by William Johnston (New York: Doubleday, Inc., 1973), ZZEphesians 1:9-10. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 673 transplant after much struggle. This was St. Augustine. He emerged from "surgery" with the strong convi6tion that true life must flow from the heart: Follow the Lord, if you will,be perfect, a comrade of those among whom he speaks wisdom, who knows what to distribute to the day and to the night, so that you also may know it and so that for you lights may be in the firmament of heaven. But this will not be done unless your heart is in it.~ If wisdom touches out.minds with truth, God's gracious love seeks to touch our hearts. Why is it that so many defense mechanisms come into play at this level? Perhaps the fear of intimacy makes us cautious; what will be-demanded if I allow the Lord entrance into my life? Paradoxically we seek and' need intimacy yet flee when it is offered. The conditions of intimacy--commitment, self donation, giving up self-sufficiency--give us cause to hesitate. The tragic possibility of "having no heart" or allowing our hearts to become hard and calloused are dreadful alternatives to intP macy. Literature often speaks to this point: But 1 feel nothing, she whispered to herself. I have no heart.~4 Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds'at every turn,~5 ¯ His sorrows will not be slight. His heart is proud and hard.2~ Jesus came to save the'whole person, and ali people. His love for us was integral and he sought a total response. Using the book of Deuteronomy, Jesus. teaches: "and you must love the Lord your God. with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength" (Dt 6:4-5). Realizing in faith that God first loved us, now weare to respond in love to a God who desires our hearts. Having' been gifted with love, we return that gift. by loving the Father as Jesus did and by serving in the building up of the kingdom. Jesus' Power As God's gracious love transforms the interior of the Christian life, creating a new heart and shaping a new mind, there are external mani-festations indicating a new, powerful wayof life. The power of Jesus was evidenced in his love, joy, peace, in his constant patience, goodness, kind-ness, in his trustful'ness, gentleness and self-control (Ga 5:22). Through these signs of the Spirit, the Father's love and mission were incarnated. Following the Master, Paul challenged the Galatians as well as hin~self~to live out these values. For the sake of clarification, Paul's letter to the people of Galatia also provided concrete instances of what happens when internal renewal of heart and mind has not taken place. The "old self" of indulgence and weakness surfaces when these results are present: ZSThe Confessio;~s of St. Augustine, translated by John K~ Ryan, Book XII1, Chapter 19 (New °York: Image Book, 1960), p. 350. 24Thornton Wilder, The Bridge ofSatt Luis Re3' (New York: Washington Square Press, Inc,, 1955), p. 112. ~Edna St. Vincent Millay's "'Pity Me Not Because the Light of Day." Z~Herman Hesse, Siddhartha. 674 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 fornication, gross indecency and sexual irresponsibility; idolatry and sorcery; feuds and wrangling, jealousy, bad temper and quarrels; disagreements, factions, envy; drunkenness, orgies and similar things. 1 warn you now, as I warned you before: those who behave like this will not inherit the kingdom of God'.27 In using the power given him by the Father~; Jesus brought about change and renewal in the lives of many. In calling Zaccheus down from the tree an entire household was converted; in washing the feet of the disciples they came to realize that to follow the Lord was,.t0 serve; in calling Mary by name in the garden, depression and fear gave way to hope and joy. The very presence of Jesus was power, transforming darkness~into light, doubt into faith, apathy into love. His gaze, the tone of voice, the transparency of the Father's love were creative for anyone with the eyes. of faith. When that faith, was not there, Jesus experienced the pain of powerlessness and he bore that cross with much pain: Wherever growth took place, Jesus, in humility, realized that it was rooted in the Father's abiding presence and an expression of the Father's love. Paul lived through love which Christ had for him; this love power m~ade the apostle to the Gentiles into a new man. Then, having experienced the burning power of God's call in Jesus, Paul was enabled in love to exert power in bringing others to the Father. In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul describes the source, purpose and strength of the Christian way of life: It is all God's work. It was God who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the work of handing on this reconciliation. In other words, God in Christ recon-ciling the world to himself, not holding men's faults against them, and he has'entrusted to us the news that they are reconciled. So we are ambassadors, for Christ; it is as though God were appealing through us, and the appeal that we make in Christ's name is: be reconciled to God.28 To accomplish the work of the Father, power was necessary. Paul was well aware that the gifts and energies given him were not for personal gain but for others. What mattered was that all people might be in union with God, that reconciliation become a fact. The vision of faith was translated into life through the strength and ~courage given by the Father. Paul became an ambassador; a messenger entrusted with precious news. Through the power of proclamation and the courage of deeds, Paul shared the message of God's loving forgiveness with the people of his day, and with. us who are privile'ged to read his letters in faith. To live through love, then, meant for Paul a dwelling in the love of Christ Jesus. Through grace he would take on the mind and heart of the Lord as well as the power of his hands. Living through love implied an imperative: through his personal love for his fellowmen, Paul must continue the process of conversion in the lives of those whom he was called to serve. The gift given, God's love and forgiveness must be passed on. 27Galatians 5:19-21. 282 Corinthians 5:18-20. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasisr / 675 In His Presence: Union With the Father Several years ago~ I was speaking with a friend about the well-being of a former classmate. His response was simple and profound: "He's all right, he lives in His presence." This type of centering provides peace and be-comes the source of a "holy" life. Monica, the mother of Augustine, lived in the land of faith. Her son writes: o ¯ . . and she h'ad you (God)oas her inward teacher in the school of her heart . Whosoever among them khew her greatly praised.you, and honored you and loved you in her, because they recognized your presence in her heart, for the fruit of her holy ¯ life bore witness to this3~ C. S. Lewis, after the death of his wife, recorded an experience of presence that analogously applies to the God-man relationship: ¯ . . she seems to meet me everywhere. Meet is far too strong a word. l don't mean anything remotely like an apparition or a voice. I don't mean even any strikingly emotional experience at any particular moment. Rather, a sort of unobtrusive but massive sense that she is, just as much as ever, a fact to be taken into account,a° Faith draws us to the basic fact that the Father is always with us in a variety of ways.~The:problem is not so much cognitive as it'is experiential; through a lack of pro~er disposition we live outside of God's presence (this is sin at the deepest I~vel). God is still with us but w~ live as though this were not the case. ,, In his excellent treatise The Problem of~God, John Courtney Murray emphasizes t.he importance of presence: Over against the inconstancy and infidelity of the people; who continually absent themselves from God, the Name Yahweh affirms the constancy of God, his un-changeable fidelity to his promise of presence?~ He (God) is present as the Power. Presence involves transparency; one sees through the veil.of otherness into the other and knows his quality, intentions, attitudes. Thus, through h~s mighty works, God becomes transparent to hts people. He ts known to be present m ffi~thful goodness. : . . In all h~s works of judgment as of rescue, Yahweh becomes transparent, known to his people, who name him'from their experience of his works,a2 St. Paul cam~ to experience the pror~ise of God's dwelling with his people throug.h grace. Then, empowered;l~y the Spirit and 'h~aled through the power of JeSus, Paul could write to the Romans that "everyone moved b-Y the Slbirit is a son of GoiJ'~ find that it is~this Spirit that "makes us cry 6ut, ~abba, Father! . (Rm ~: 14-!$). Assuming the identity bf h so~, Paul j.ourneyed to the Father. ' ¯ zaConfessions, Book IX, Chapter 9, p. 220¯ abA Grief Observed, p. 22. aUohn Courtney Mut~'ay, The Proble'm of God (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), p. 11~ 321bid., pp. 14-15. 676 / Review for; Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Father's Covenant The covenant theme is central throughout all of scripture. God's word reveals the mystery of his desire to dwell with his people in a close intimate relationship. God committed himself to beour Father~ and callS us to be his people. Thus in forming a nation through. Abraham; in giving the law and the prophets, in sending Jesus to reconcile, in forming a Spirit-filled Church, the Father continues to dwell in history, the God oftimg and space. St. Paul experienced the covenant relationship with the Father; he dwelt in the Father's tent, listening to the Father's voice and venturing f?rth to share that word with others. Refusal of God's covenant is sin. Acceptance of it is grace and life. Our home is to be with God. The psalmist knew the joy of dwelling with Yah-weh: A single day in your courts is worth more than a thousand elsewhere; ~, merely to stand on the steps of God's house is better than living with the wicked,a3 Paul had spent years living out the covenant relationship: With the encounter and surrender to Christ, he gained access to the Father'.s dwell-ing. Having tasted darkness, he now knew the warmth and light of grace. To live in his presence meant life itself; anything else was death: But because of Christ, I have come to con~ider all these advantages (of the Law) as disadvantages. Not only that, but I believe that nothing can happen that will outweigh the supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For him I have accepted the loss of everything, and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Cl~dst and be given ~ place in him.a4 Father's Kingdom and Will ,~ To live in the Father's presence means necessarily to get caught up into the kingdom and the will of God. "God's kingdom is no fixed, existing order, but a living, nearing thing. Long remote, it now advances, little by little, and has come so close as to demand acceptance. Kingdom of God means a state in which God is king and consequently rules."35 Indeed, for St. Paul the very presence of the Father within his life was synonymous with the surrender of his freedom. Decisions now w~re made in faith and out of love; freedom given meant freedom gained. By relating all to the furthering of the kingdom, a deep singleness of the heart (purity) governed and unified the apostle's life. All was new. The kingdom is achieved by doing the Father's will. Jesus' obedience unto death was the paradigm. Paul's highly developed sense of discernment allowed him to hear the voice of the Lord and the grace of the moment meant a response in faith. This listening and responding pattern charac- 3aPsalm 84:10. a4Philippians 3:7-9. a~Romano Guardini, The Lord (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1954), p. 37. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 677 terized Paul's life; it meant that the Father's will was being accomplished. Paul's prayer for the Colossians indicates the centrality of God's will: ¯. we have never0failed to pray for you~ and'what we ask God is that through perfect wisdom and spiritual:understanding you should reach the'fullest knowledge of his will. So you~ will be able,~to lead the kind of life which the Lord expects of you, a life acceptable to him in all its aspects; showing the results in all good actions you do and increasing your knowledg~e of God.a6 Knowledge of the Father's will is no intellectual abstraction; it demands commitment and actions which are pleasing to God. This holy pragmatism stresses the dynamism of Paul's ministry and his challenge to those who follow tile Lord. To,~iive in his presence, with the implicit willingness to promote the kirigdom by doing the Father's will, means that selfishness and non-scrip-tural behavior are elements in opposition to the life of Christ. Yet these elements never t6t~lly disappear from life. There is that constant struggle to allow the Lord to truly be I~ord ofourqives; there are the perennial temff-tat~ ons that lead toward' idolatry and~ wedge things and people between ourselves and the Father. Paul's life had; to face the'se struggles; his life was one 'of continual conversion. His candid confession in his letter to the Rom~ins"(7:14-15) magnificently expresSes the inward division of every person. Only through the grace of Christ does healing take place and only through that grace can we center bn the Father's kingdom and will. Without it we flounder on stormy waters. Father's Honor and Glory 'Life invol~'es two essential questions: what we do and why we do what v~E ~o. This latter question deals with the motivation. Our intentions not only reve~al our philosophy of life bu~ ultimately give us our sense of iden-tity.~ The Christian challenge 'is to Center our lives on God, to serve and love for his honor and 'glory. Self-serving and self-preserving tendencies block purity of'intention. Constantly we a~e invited to ever deeper levels of convei~sion as we strive to focus our attention on the mystery of God. Often Paul directly called the people he served to recognize to whom all honor and glory belonged: Glory'be to him whose power, working in us', can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine3 glory be to him from generation to genera~tion in the Church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever. Amen.3r Glory to him who is able to give you the strength to live according to the Good News I preach, and in which I proclaim Jesus Christ. the revelation of a mystery kept secret for endless ages, but now so clear that it must be broadcast to pagans everywhere to bring them to the obedience of faith. , . . He alone is wisdom; give glory therefore to him through Jesus.Christ forever and ever. Amen.36 a~Colossians 1:9-10: aTEphesians 3:20-21. 38Romans 16:25-27. Review for ReligiouS, Volume 37, 1978/5 In return, my God will fulfill .all your needs, in Christ Jesus, as lavishly as only.God can. Glory to God, our Father, forever and ever. Amen.as Honor and glory are due to God because of his majesty. The believer breaks forth in praise when God reveals himself. It is, impossible to remain silent when Truth and Goodness and Beauty inundate the human spirit. Faith allows us to encounter the living and true God; Our response is that of praise. Using Thomistic theology, Gabriel Braso describes well the meaning of honor and glory: , Glory is clear knowledge together with praise of the excellence of a'nother: clara ' notitia cure laude. Honor is the ackno~vledgment of this same e~cellence. Honor and glory, then, are acts by which our intellect recognizes an excellence existing in another being and finds it worthy of praise. Our will, on its part, accepts this superi-ority as a good to which it is well to tend, and, rejoicing in that good which another. prssesses, proclaims it and bears witness to it before others.4° The atmosphere in which Paul lived, namely,0the loving presen~ze of the Father, provides the springboard for his work, personal relationships and prayer. Not only did the apostle~ attempt to do. what was good for the well.being of others, he also lived from a very specifi~ level of.inten-tionality; he lived for God's honor and glory. Certainly the quality of this motivation varied at times, but the ideal was ever before Paul and he strove for it with tremendous zeal and dedication. Because .of this, he could write to others that they should follow his example. Conclusion The spiritual life is our participation in the paschal mystery. By means of principles and guidelines we h~ive some directions providing a perspec-tive from which to live this life in Christ. A homeostatic principle,is .~n internal reality giving continuity and stability to the faith life, especial!y when experiences of fragmentation tend to upset that life or when doubts attack :the human heart stripping it of meaning and feel,i, ng. Each person is challenged to discover and cultivate a personal homeostatic principle; it may remain constant throughout life or be modified in various ways. Be-sides St. Paul, other believers have articulated well what possibly might be their grounding point in the Lord: Yesterday 1 had a good morning. Once again when I recollect myself, I again find the same simple demands of God: gentleness, humility, charity, interior simplicity; noth-ing else is asked of me. And suddenly I saw clearly why these virtues are,demanded, because through them the soul becomes habitable for God and for one's neighbor in an intimate and permanent way. They make a pleasant cell of it. Hardness and pride repel, complexity disquiets. But humility and gentleness welcome, and simplicity reassures. These "'passive" virtues have an eminently social character.41 3aPhilippians 4t29-30~ 4°Gabriel M. Braso, O.S.B., Liturgy and Spirituality, translated by Leonard J. Doyle (Col-legeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 1960), p. 59. o ~ 4IRaissh's Journal, presented by Jacques Maritain (Albany, NY: Magi Books, Inc.,1963), p. 71. Spiritual Staying Power: H~meostasis / 679 . my sole desire is that His name be praised, and that we should make every effort to serve a Lord who gives us such a reward here below . 4~ Lord, who has form'd me out of mud, And has redeem'd me through thy blood, And sanctifi'd me to do good; Purge all my sins done heretofore: For I confess my heavy score, And I will strive to sin no more. Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me, With faith, with hope, with charity; That I may run, rise, rest with thee.4a Human life is lived at various levels. At times the surface of our lives can be filled with turmoil and anxieties while there is peace deep within. At other times, extei'nal forces are calm but our hearts are agitated and rest-less. This essay suggests that St. Paul was able to deal with the pressures, anxieties and trials of life because his life was grounded in God's life. Paul's desire, was "'to live through love in His presence." This homeostatic prin-ciple provided' stability and continuity as he sought to "run, rise, rest" with God. 4~The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Jesus, translated by E. Allison Peers, II (London: Sheed and Ward, 1946), p. 268. 43George Herbert, "Trinity Sunday." All I Needed Was the Violet The overwheimin~ evidence of your magnitude, O God, i~sdisplayed in the sequ0yia forest,~ the snow,crowned towering mountains, the throbbing pulse of the swaying oceans, the~ measureless ga!axies of tinknown space, and also in the perfection and beauty of a tiny violet. To believe in you, an~l to bow down in worship, all I needed ' was the violet. Everywhere I find you, , Your bountiful, awe-inspiring, praise-producing, heart-stirring, mind-boggling, argument-ending remin~lers are just too overwhelming for me. Viola Jacobson Berg 5 Roosevelt Ave. Malverne, NY 11565 Mount Athos: The Holy Republic Michael Azkoul Father Azkoul, a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church, has taught Church History at St. Louis University, as well as in other institutions. Presently he is attached to Seminex (Luth-eran Seminary in Exile) of St. Louis. He is married, with two children. He resides at 912 Bellstone Rd.; St. Louis, MO 63119. Mount Athos or "The Holy Mountain" is situated in northern Greece, on the Chaicedonean peninsula. Since 1922 this colony of monks has been a republic, a legally constituted political entity, a cluster of monasteries-- stauropeion, as the Orthodox say--immediately subject to the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople. The Holy Mount is dedicated to the Blessed Virgin who, it is said, led its first inhabitants, perhaps as early as the sixth century, to establish this religious sanctuary where no female is allowed--nor "female animals-or beardless boys." There have been as many as 40,000 monks on this tiny strip of land jutting into the Aegean, but now Athos can hardly boast of 400 Who have surrendered themselves to the "life of the angels." The Holy Mountain has been crucial to the life of the Orthodox Church. Its monks have produced great music, art, theology, and given t6 the Church some of her greatest bishops and saints.1 Moreover, the history of Orthodoxy shows that monks, especially those of the holy mount, have been "defenders of the faith." No more typical example can be found than their behavior during the Iconoclastic Period when the Empress Theodora found the support of monks indispensable in her effort to restore icons to the Church. Her victory is commemorated on the first Sunday of the "Great ~Monk-saints of Athos are usually called Hagiorite, that is, of the holy (hagios) mountain (oros). 680 Mount Athos: The Holy Republic / 68"1 Lent," as the Sunday of Orthodoxy. This Christian triumph over Hellenism was as monastic as it was,ecclesiastical. The historical value of monasticism to the Church notwithstanding, its importance to Orthodoxy as the supreme embodiment of her Weltan- Schauung is what concerns us here: Mt. Athos as the microcosm of the whole, of Orthodoxy and monasticism, this is the special object of our attention. In truth, one cannot understand the Eastern Church unless one grasps the meaning of her monasticism. In other words, monks are not a class above the Church, but the highest stratum within the Church. They are "'the true and authentic Christians," as St. Basil the Great called them. Monks and nuns are the dynamis of Orthodoxy, its spiritual heroes, the archetypes of its piety, models of chastity, the totally committed who most perfectly express the first principle of Orthodox spirituality, "voluntary obedience.'" They are those Christians who mysteriously perfect the Church and the entire human race by perfecting themselves. Recognizing that the Church is divine and human, even as Christ himself, we come to understand what it means that they are eager to sanctify time, to bring creation closer to the end for which the Christian economy was re-vealed- the deification of the cosmos. The Nature of Orthodox Spirituality The Orthodox Weltanschauung is ascetical. This means that monks are not an erratic or exotic element in the Church, but her chief representatives. Their lives are a statement of denial as well as of affirmation: monks affirm the Christian revelation as the introduction of new life into an age domi-nated by the devil. Satan is the "god of the age," its very zeitgeist. He is the one to whom mankind was yoked by Adam's sin, the ancestral sin which rendered his posterity the heirs of bodily corruption and death. "Where-fore, as by one man sin entered the world and death by sin," St. Paul teaches, "0n account of death all have sinned" (Rm 5:12). In other words, man is not so much a scoundrel as a victim. Human suffering is not the result of God's punishment or vengeance, but the consequence of the devil's power over us through death--the last enemy. Thus, God became a man to destroy the devil and death, not to satisfy some debt incurred by humanity through the sin of Adam.~ For the Orthodox, there is no "original sin," as Augustine and the West have so long believed, only an act of disobedience which inaugurated de-monic tyranny. Baptism, therefore, does not eradicate an "inherited guilt" transmitted by procreation. How, indeed, as Pelagius asked the Augus-tinians, is "original sin" passed to the children of baptized parents if bap- ZSee J. S. Romanides, "'Original Sin According to Saint Paul," St. Vladimir Seminary Quar-terly. IV, I-2 ( 1955-1956), pp. 5-28. Fr. Romanides blames Augustine of Hippo for altering the Church's traditional understanding of Adam's sin and its consequences: and, therefore, the Christian theology of baptism. Review for Relig, ious, Volume 37, 1978/5 tism washes it away? Nor does baptism involve the complete regeneration of human nature--which would necessarily destroy even the capacity to sin. Rather, baptism removes the individual from the tyranny of the devil and incorporates us into the life of "the Second Adam," that is, the Church, the body of Christ, the new humanity, "the race of Christians," as St. Justin Martyr referred to the People of God. Moreover, the mystery of baptism initiates the process of deification--"the new birth," the process of our spiritual perfection through grace (which in Orthodox theology means God's "uncreated energy" extended to creation). We belong to that level of being in which the acquisition of the Holy Spirit, the "Giver of Life," becomes our r?tison d'ktre. In Christ, he is the Deifier. In the Church, the process of deification (salvation) involves, to be sure, prayer, fasting, the Mysteries (sacraments), saving knowledge (the "knowl-edge" of spiritual things, gnosis) and the constant struggle with the pas-sions, the struggle to overcome our Adamic nature, our mortal nature, .to overcome death, wrestling with devil while ascending the "ladder of per-fection," to borrow a phrase from St. John of the, Ladder (Climacus). The passions darken reason and enervate the will: they destroy freedom. Freedom is an internal condition, "the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free., from the yoke of bondage" (Ga 5:1). Thus, it does not mean, in the first instance, political or economic rights. These cannot exist unless we have been unchained from the Evil One who, as we have implied, seeks our negation through the passions, the perverse powers of our fallen nature, our nature yoked to death, to dying. We recognize the passions as pride or self-love, jealousy, lust, hate, contentiousness, despair, etc. There are passions of the body and passions of the soul, as St. Gregory of Sinai reminds us. They dwell in us from birth :and are aroused and strengthened by our environment, that is, by the devil working through our psyche, or by persons and things. The devil combats grace by the passions. Despite the Holy Spirit, our guardian angel, the ¯ intercession of the saints, we can lose our souls if we do not perceive the guile of the devil and undertake to oppose him; indeed, without the struggle, the Christian will soon fall away from the Church and into the power of the devil once more. As we have said, the passions are the means by which the devil seeks to recapture.us. He can get us back by winning our "heart," the spiritual citadel of man, the "subconscious," as some Orthodox theologians call it. (Orthodoxy, following the Fathers, has never viewed the "heart" as "the seat of the emotions~ especially love.") All instruments of reason are im-potent to search the abyss of the heart, although, as St. Symeon the New Theologian observed, discursive reason is given the role of "sentinel." The heart is that by which we believe unto salvation, by which we see God if our heart is pure (Mt 5:8: Rm 10:9), but also that from which, according to the Lord, "proceeds evil reasoning, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, lying, blasphemy .'" (Mt 15:19). Mount Athos: The Holy Republic No wonder, then, the Fathers admonish us to "guard the heart," to protect it from anything or anyone who might injure it, from any situation which leads to separation from God's grace. We may "'guard the heart" through obedience, humility, chastity, prayer, the Mysteries and, in par-ticular, by controlling the faculty of the "imagination." This is that power of the mind whereby it creates images, which forms sense-data into co-herent patterns, which allows the mind to visualize and, consequently, to judge and act. As the Greek Fathers say, every passion is the result of a "'sinful image." Reason may alert us to the danger, but if we cherish the "'sinful inlage,'".ifwe nourish and remember it--as one might past insult or betrayalBthen it overwhelms reason, penetrates the systems of conscious-ness and plunges into the heart. The "'sinful image" reemerges as a "pas-sion," the irrational force which comes to determine our thought and con-duct. Only strenuous ascetic exercise can purge the heart thereafter. The great weapon of protection and purgation is "the name of Jesus." His name is a terror to the devils, said St. Barsanuphius. We may pray, 'bLord Jesus Christ, Thou Son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner." The "desert fathers" recommend that this prayer be repeated slowly, quietly, sincerely. When said with.faith and understanding, it is not "vain repeti-tion." It becomes important to spiritual and mental health. Some Fathers have been known to have recited the "Jesus rPrayer'' all through the night--a prayer "without ceasing." Rightly practiced, it will eventually pass to and mysteriously, effortlessly, beat witti the organ of the heart. The "Jesus Prayer" becomes.the automatic "'Prayer of the Heart." Admittedly, those who have reached this perfection are very few. They are also those men and women who may preview already on earth the joys of heaven."~ Let us make one thing clear before we proceed. According to the Ortho-dox Church, "the religious experience" is never wholly "private" and never "anti-establishment." To be sure, the quality and intensity of that experience depends upon the holiness of the individual, but it is an ex-perience which transpires within the Church. We may call it "mystical," if we wish, but it is not the "'mystical experience" of a special person, a psychedelic, insulated, isolated, exotic, mayhaps erotic experience. In Orthodoxy, the "religious" or "'mystical experience" of any of her mem-bers- including the holy monk and nun--is the experience of the entire Church, relative, as we said, to the degree of sanctity. The Church is a soborny, a mystical, organic fellowship of believers, if for no other reason than that of the Holy Eucharist, "the mystical supper~" as St. John Chrysostom called it, enjoyed by all the faithful. " In connection with this matter, too, is the teaching of'the Eastern Church that truth is the product of mystical experience, that is, dogma is the product of holiness, not of ratiocination. But if truth follows from holiness, 3The Orthodox Church rejects the idea of the "'beatific vision" if by that is meant beholding the Essence of God, whether in this life or the next. The saved will see only the deified Christ "'face to face" (see Vladimir Lossky, The Vision of God: London, 1963). 684 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 then there is no surer vehicle of divine revelation than the monk, he who has committed his entire life to the fight with the devil and the struggle with the passions. As a matter of historical fact, the greatest teachers of the Church have been monks, whether clergy or not. It is correct to say, however, that the supreme witnesses to the Christian faith have been monks who were also bishops, since bishops have almost invariably drawn from the monastery. The bishop has sometimes been an abbott or "'elder" (staretz, geron) whose reputation for holiness and wisdom is unsurpassed. Historically, he was the confessor and counselor of kings and queens. Furthermore, the Orthodox Church has never failed to contain .great women ascetics, many of whom have been found in the convent. Through-out the centuries, they have been persons to whom Christians have turned for wisdom and consolation. Although women cannot teach in the Church nor become priests, they have been miracle-workers, iconographers, poets, models of virtue. St. Mary of Egypt dwelt in the desert for more thanforty years. By her miracles and preachment, St. Nina was ,the converter of Georgia in Russia. Numerous women saints have been given the honorific title "Equal to the Apostles," such as St. Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine. The abbe

Issue 15.6 of the Review for Religious, 1956. ; Review for Religious ~OVEMBER 15, 1956 Cloister of Congregations . Joseph F. Gallen Zeal for Souls ¯ " c.A. Herbst Sisters' RefreafsIVI . Thomas Dubay The Religious Life . Roman Congregations Book Reviews New Business Address index for 1956 VOLUME XV " No. (5 Ri::VI.I::W FOR RI::::LIGIOUS VOLUME XV NOVEMBER, 19 5 6 NUMBER 6 CONTENTS NEW BUSINESS ADDRESS . 281 CLOISTER OF CONGREGATIONS-~Joseph F. Gallen, 'S.,J 2.8.2. ZEAL FOR SOULS--C. A. Herbst, S.J . 295 SISTERS' RETREATS---VI --- Thomas Dubay, S.M: .3.0.1. GUIDANCE FOR RELIGIOUS . 308 ROMAN CONGREGATIONS AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE"0 ". 3.09 B(~OK REVIEWS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS-- Editor: Bernard A. Hausmann, S.3. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana . 3~8 INDEX FOR VOLUME XV . 334 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, November, 1956. Vol. XV, No. 6. Published bi-monthly: ,January, March, May, ,July, September, and November, at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter, ,January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under ~he act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ellard, S.'j., Gerald Kelly, S.J., Henry Willmering, S.J. Literary Editor: Edwin F. Falteisek, S.J. Publishing rights reserved by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed it. U. S. A. Please send all renewals and new subscriptions to: Review For Religious, 3115 South Grand Boulevard, St. Louis 18, Missouri Our New Business , clress When we were preparing to publish the REVIEW, we arranged to have the College Press, in Topeka, do the printing and distribut-ing. For fifteen years the editors and the College Press have worked together in the closest harmony. We have literally shared both heart-aches and joys. The heartaches were mostly brought about by the difficulties of the war years: for example, as we published each num-be~ we wondered how we would get enough paper for printing the next. The joys consisted, among other things, in getting the REVIEW out regularly and on time, despite the difficulties, and in the realiza-tion that this new apostolate for religious seemed to be appreciated. Please send all renewals and new subscriptions to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 3115 South Grand Boulevard St. Louis 18, Missouri This is our new business address During all these fifteen years, Mr. J. W. Orr, owner of the Col-lege Press, and his assistants, have given the REVIEW the best they had; and that was very good, indeed. But the time has come when we must make new publishing arrangements. The reason for this is purely an "act of God," as far as both the editors and the College Press are concerned. There has been no break in the harmony that has always characterized our collaboration. Fortunately for us, the publishing department of the Queen's Work has agreed to take over the publication of the REVIEW. Be-ginning with the next volume, the RE~rIEW will be printed and dis-tributed by the Queen's Work. Obviously, the new publishers can-~ not wait till the last deadline to begin making addresses and keeping records. For this reason, please note the announcement in the center of this page and follow it exactly. The editors are deeply grateful to the College Press for past col-laboration and to the Queen's Work for taking over the burden. 281 Cloist:er ot: Congrega!:ions ,Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. I. Introduction. All the canons on common cloister apply to all congregations, i. e., institutes of simple vows, whether of men or women, clerical or lay, pontifical or'' diocesan, with the exception of c. 607, which treats of religious women going out of the convent alone. To lessen the complications in this highly detailed matter and to avoid the constant repetition of awkward phrases such as, "those of the opposite sex," the article explains and applies common cloister with reference to congregations of religious women. II. r~tpes of cloister. Papal cloister exists in all orders of men and women. Formerly it existed in the case of women only in mon-asteries of nuns that actually had solemn vows, but this was changed by the apostolic constitution Sponsa Christi.1 Cloister of this type is called papal because it is prescribed by papal ,(canon) law and its violation is punished by papal penalties, i. e., penalties enacted in the Code of Canon Law. Common or episcopal cloister is that imposed by canon law on all religious congregations (institutes of simple vows) of men and women. The name common is due to the fact that this cloister is less strict than papal, especially the papal cloister of nuns. This type of cloister was termed episcopal before .the Code of Canon Law. The same expression is still used, aIthough less frequently, because in the law of the code the local ordinary ex-ercises supervision over the exact observance of common cloister and may enforce its observance with canonical penalties (c. 604, § 3). Statutor~t or disciplinary is cloister insofar as it is prescribed by ¯ the particular Rule and constitutions; active, insofar as it forbids leaving the house; passive, insofar as it forbids the entrance of ex-terns into the cloistered parts; material, the cloistered parts of the house; formal, the laws of the code by which the going out of the religious or the entrance of externs is forbidden and regulated. III. Definition, purpose, obligation. The meaning, of common cloister is that the religious do not leave the house without the per~ mission of the superior according to the constitutions nor regularly receive any person of the other sex in the part of the house reserved for the community. The primary purpose of cloister is the preser-vation of the virtue of chastity. Under this aspect cloister frees the 1. Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, III, 221-52. 282 CLOISTER OF CONGREGATIONS' religious from many temptations, protects the good name of the institute and of the religious state, and prevents scandals, suspicion, and harmful gossip even among the inquisitorial and hostile. Cloister is also an element of the external or canonical contemplative life. Its purpose under this heading is to develop and intensify a truly prayerful, interior, and spiritual 1ire'by withdrawing the religious from an atmosphere of worldliness and distraction and surround-ing her with one of tranquillity, peace and recollection. Cloister is likewise a habitual exercise of mortification and penance, an aid to the preservation of religious discipline in general, and of conspicuous practical utility for persevering study and labor. The mere statement of these aims reveals the value of a cloister that is intelligently en-acted and faithfully observed both in external action and interior purpose. It must be admitted, however, that the modern apostolate demands that at least very many sisters go out of the cloister more frequently and remain out of it for much longer periods daily than in the past. This age, therefore, requires a rigorously cloistered heart rather than a mere cloistered convent, a soul immutably turned to God in love rather than a mere veiled face, sincere detachment rather than mere walls and locked doors, a true interior life rather than mere external protection, and the double barrier of habitual prayer and mortification rather than the double grille. It is an aged canonical maxim that as the fish is lifeless without water so the monk with-out his monastery. I am of the opinion that we must modernize this venerable figure and demand of the religious an amphibious spiritual life. Common cloister is obligatory from c. 604, § 1, on all congre-gations. The constitutions of some institutes of simple vows give the impression either of error or inaccuracy in stating that cloister is not of obligation. It is true that papal cloister is not of obligation for congregations and that it is stricter than common cloister, but the latter is obligatory on all congregations. Both papal and com-mon cloister exist only in canonically erected formal and non-formal religious houses.2 Cloister does not demand that the institute be the proprietor of the house. Neither papal nor common cloister exists in canonically filial houses, summer villas and vacation houses, houses that are not completely erected materially, a house in which the community is not yet residing, nor in a temporary residence, e. g., a house rented and used while the religious house is being renovated. 2. Cf. cc. 597, § 1; 604, § 1; Berutti, De Religiosis, 268; Vromant, De Personis, n. 429. 283 JOSEPH F. ~ALLEN Review for Religious Cloister begins as soon as the community has taken up residence in a canonically erected house, but the precise moment is determined by the higher superior when such residence is begun, gradually. From custom or the enactments of the general chapter or higher superiors, the regulations of common cloister will and should be observed also in filial houses, temporary residences, and even more strictly in vaca-tion houses. IV. Cloistered parts of the house. The parts of the house des-tined for the exclusive use of the religious are those that are to be placed within common cloister. In constitutions approved by the Holy See, these ordinarily are the cells or dormitories, the infirmary, and the refectory. The community room, kitchen, and pantry are sometimes placed within cloister. The cloistered parts of the house are usually determined in the constitutions of sisters. Added deter-minations, the settlement of doubtful cases, the determination of the parts to be cloistered when these are not designated in the con-stitutions, from analogy with c. 597, § 3, appertain to. higher su-periors and the general chapter. The same authorities have the right of changing the boundaries of cloister permanently, except those determined in the constitutions, and may change also these tempor-arily. A proportionate reason is required for either change. V. Doors and locks of cloister. The constitutions of some con-gregations of sisters contain the enactment that the convent doors are to be locked at night and the keys given to the superior. This en-actment undoubtedly has its origin in the norm for the papal cloister of nuns: "The keys of the cloister shall be in the hands of the su-perioress night and day; and she shall give them to certain desig-nated nuns when there is need.''3 Frequently enough the constitu-tions of nuns add to this norm by prescribing that the cloister doors are to have two distinct locks, and these may also be supplemented by bolts and bars. Some orders also command that at night the keys of the two distinct locks are to be put into a box, which it-self is secured by two distinct locks. The keys of the" latter are to be given to two nuns, so that the presence of both is required to open the box. The minimum requisite of such enactments is exit doors that can be opened from the inside only by a key. I believe that a com-petent and conscientious American fire inspector would be apt to object to such exit doors. Building and fire prevention codes and practices in the United States appertain especially to local civil or- 3. Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, I, 319. 284 November, 1956 CLOISTER OF CONGREGATIONS dinance and authority, and it would be prudent to consult these in the present question. The National Fire Protection Ass6ciation states that its standards ". are widely used by law enforcing authOrities in addition to their general use as gu!des to fire safety.TM In its pamphl~t, Building Exits Code, this association states: "All doors used in connection with exits shall be so arranged as to be always readily opened from the side from which egress is made. Locks, if provided, shall not require a key to operate from the inside~ Latches or other releasing device~ to 6pen doors shall .be of simple types, the method of operation of which is obvious even in darkness.''6 This standard is not specifically hplSlied to such residences as convents or religious houses in general, but it is extended to very similar resi-dences, e. g., apartment houses, which are defined as ". residence buildings providin~ sleeping accommodations for 20 or more per-sons, such as cbnventiorial apartments, tenement houses, lodging houses, dormitories, multi-family, houses, etc.''6 VI. Admission only of the male sex forbidden (c. 604, § 1). By the code, only the entrance of those of the'opposite sex into the cloistered parts is forbidden. Insofar as the entrance of the same sex-is prohibited in any congregation, the obligation is merely of the constitutions. Both the purpose of cloister and ordinary charity demand that even the same sex should not be admitted in a way that would unreasonably disturb the work, recollection, and. espe-cially the privacy of the religious. VII. Exemptions from the prohibition of entrance (cc. 604, § 1; 600; 598, § 2). Can. 604, § 1, extends to common cloister the exemptions given for papal cloister in cc. 600 and 598, § 2, Since these exemptions were enacted for papal cloister, they are not. inl~er~ preted entirely in the same sense when applied to common cloister. Those exempted by cc. 600 and 598, § 2 are: 1. The local ordinary or his delegate for the canonical oisitation. It is sufficient for his examination of the cloister that he be accom-panied by sisters, either two or one, preferably the superior. 2. Priests to administer the sacraments or to assist the dying. For a just and reasonable cause, any man or.boy may be admitted into common.~ loister. The administration of any sacrament and the assistance of .the .dying are evidently just causes, and therefore any priest, may be. admitted into common .cloister for these reasons. "4. Building Exits ~6~ (Boston: National Fire'Protection Association, 12th ed., 1952, reprinted 1955), back of front cover. ." "- ¯ ~ 5. Ibid., n~ 50'3 .r.," ~.:", " : . . ; ~'~ ~, ~ '~ , 6. Ibid., nn. 2800, 2812. 28.5 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious 3. Those who hold the supreme power in the state, with their wines and retinue, and cardinalL with their retinue. This exemption isnot too prattical, and. for that reas6n is omitted in many constitu-tionsi While actually in power, even if not Catholics, kings, em-perors, presidents.of republics, the governors of our states with their wives and retinue, and cardinals with their retinu~ may enter the cloister in ahy country, even outside their own country or state. This exerription does not apply to those Who have been elected to but have not a~ yet entered on the office of supreme power, nor to persons who held supreme power in the past but do not hold it now, nor to cabinet members, senators, and congressmen. The dignity of all of these, however, would be a sufficient reason for their admission into" Common"cloister. A wife in the sense of this canon is one who is commonly held as such,' even though the marriage is invalid, e. g., because of a previous marriage. She and her. retinue may be ad-mi_ tted into the common cloister of men (c. 598, § 2). The same is true of a woman who holds,the supreme power in the state, with her .retinue. The code does .not forbid the entrance of a woman into the common cloister of religious women. 4. The superior may, with proper precautions, admit doctors, surgeons,, and others whose services are neCessar~j. There is evidently a just and teasonable cause fbr the admission of all of these. 5. Others mdy be admitted for a just and reasonable cause in the judgment of the superior, the proper'l~recautions always being ob-served (c. 604, § 1). This legislation is directly on common cloister and gives the general norm for the admission of men and boys iiato the common cloister of women. It is a sufficient norm in itself; and it is very difficult'to.see the .utility of the code's extension of cc. 600 and" 598, § 2, as enumerated above, to common cloister. There is obviously a just and reasonable cause for the admission of all of those listed above from these two canons. The proper precautions may be determined in ~the constitutions. If not,- it "is sufficient thata sister, preferably the local superior or an official, accompany any man admitted to the cloister. This is also true of a priest hdmitted for the confessions of'the sick. It is sometimes specified that the door of 'the room is to be left open while the confession is being heard. This is not always possible because of the smallness bf the room and of the adjoining corridor. No one of the. opposite sex should be .permitted to remain in the cloister longer than is necessary. Men or boys may be admitted into the common clbister of wo- 286 November, CLOISTER Ol~ CONGRI~GATIbNS the house. sister m. ay Permission ticular, or the code. men for a just and reasonable cause, which is less than a serious or grave cause. Therefore, a father, brother, or close male relative may be permitted to enter the infirmary to see a sister who is ill. Greater rea-sons, such as the.preceding and the administration of the sacraments, should be required for admission into a section devoted to the dor-mitories or cells of the sisters than into other parts of the cloister. Lesser reasons are sufficient for the admission of women and girls into the cloister when their entrance is forbidden by~ the constitutions. Particular constitutions may licitly demand more serious reasons than those required by the code for the admission of men and those commonly demanded for the admission of women. All superiors are competent to permit entrance into the cloister. 6. Male professors. According to the modern practice of the Sacred Congregation of Religious, neither the constitutions nor the custom of the instit.ute is to permit the admission of lay male pro-fessors into the cloister for the instruction of the sisters in letters or arts. When judged really necessary and not opposed b~; the local ordinary, such instructors are to teach in places outside the cloister. The mother general is to determine the precautions .necessary to avoid all danger and suspicion.7 ¯ VIII. Going out of the conoent (c. 606, § 1). Canon law does not forbid sisters to leave the house withotit the permission of su-periors but presupposes that this prohibition is contained in the con-stitutions; and in c. 606, § 1 obliges superiors to take care that the constitutions are exactly, observed with regard to subjects leaving By the law of the constitutions and universal usage, no leave the convent without the permission of the superior. may be explicit, implicit, tacit, reasonably presumed,, par-general. A violation is only of the constitutions, nQt of In the law of common cloister as understood in the code and generally practiced, sisters are permitted to leave the convent for any reasonable cause, e. g., for anything that is necessary, useful, or con-ducive to the special purpose and works of the cgngregation, for medical and dental care, spiritual reasons such as going to con~fession, for shopping, for reasonable recreation such as a walk, for works of charity such as attendance at funerals and the visiting of bereaved families, of sick, sisters, women, and children, and for reasons de-manded .by ordinaiy courtesy and politeness. They should not be permitted to go.out for reasons that are idle, u.nbscomin~,, harmful to the religious spirit, or illicit . 7. Cf. Norraae of 190l, n. 173. JOSEPH F~ GA.iLEN Regigto ttor Religious Law is .a reasonable norm of conduct; and therefore the request to go out, even for such a spiritual purpose as confession, should be reasonable. Furthermore, in granting the right "of approaching an occasional confessor, canon law gives no exemption whatever from religious discipline. It is unreasonable to expect permission to leave ~he convent,, especially if this is frequent or habitual, to go to a con-fessor who lives at a notable distance, when appreciable exigense would be necessary, or when the sister would to any degree have to be ex-cused from her assigned work. ~. There is no doubt that a congregation, may have a stricter com-mon cloister than that demanded by the code and that cloister con-tributes to freedom from temptation, dangers of the world, and'dis-tractions, and tends to foster a real interior life. Cloister, however, should not be obstructive of the special purpose of the institute nor such as to induce an artificial, inconsistent, or formalistic observance. Everything in an institute should be in agreement with and subordin-ated to its purpose. Some congregations were founded in an age that could not conceive a religious woman without papal cloister. Others took papal cloister as a fairly close model for the norms of their own constitutions. In congregations cloister should be capable of:.!unstrained observance within the framework of the purpose, works, and ordinary daily lives of the rellgiou's. The local superior gives permission to leave' the 'conven(, except for the cases that in some institutes are reserved'to higher Superiors by the constitutions or custom. The constitutions frequently forbid Sisters to visit private homes, and especially to eat or drink in them Without special permission. In a few institutes, this permission is r~served to higher superiors. Some constitutions specify that the permission of the local superior is sufficient to visit hoUses of the congregation in the vicinity, but a few demand tpheerm ~ "s s"ton of the fi~'gher superior. Constitutions quite often prescribe that a sister must 15~iVe another sister as companion when going to a do~t0ro~ dentist fo~'treatment.'There is also a frequent piohibition aga.in~t visiting house~ of priests without necessity, permission, and a sister com-p'~ inion~ '-'," ' . ~" It'i~ould be advisable to consider the temper, ing. of" the prohi-l~ itiona~ainst eating and drinking in private homes With"~egard to the occasions when a light lunch or hot or cold dri~{I~ could not b'e ~efused without' appearing discourteous and impolitel There can be 'n(~