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Issue 57.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1998. ; Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all wbo find ~bat the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives~ Tge articles in the journal are meant to be inforntative, practical, bistorical, or inspirational, written front a tbeological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-mouthly 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: FOI~PI~MA@SLU.I~I)U Manuscripts, hooks 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 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 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 informatiou on subscription rates. ~1998 Review for Religions Permission is herewith gra,ated to cop}, any ,naterial (articles, poe,ns, 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 li,nits outlined in Sectious 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this per,nission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for relig i ous Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial S~aff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. FischEr SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth.McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm J~an Read James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bis.hop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR ' Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 6 contents 566 578 religious vocations Common Threads: Are We Weaving or Unraveling? Catherine Bertrand SSN~D surveys the terrain of apostolic religious life regarding attitudes and concerns about future membership. The Decline in Religious Vocations: ¯ A Weberian Perspective Shanti P~beyasingha cssR looks at effects of the "routinizing" of a foundational charism and then peers beyond them with a hope that embraces new risks in changed circumstances. 588 595 ,life in the spirit Spirithil Maturity John Blake More reflects on some of the qUalities of a spiritually mature person. A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology Dennis J. Billy CSSR explores some of the ways in which a deeper understanding of the relationship between spirit and reason has =oncrete implications for the_future of moral theology. consecr.ated life 605 ~ Consecrated Life: Anointed with Joy Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap presents.ways of understanding joy and its intrinsic relationship to consecrated life. Review for Religious 622 The Future of Authority in the Religious Community John Carroll Futrell SJ describes what authority needs today as it exercises its ministry of making an apostolic community of love. spiritual limitations 628 Ground of Grace Marie Beha OSC uses the parable of ~he seed in looking at the limits we bring to the transforming action of grace. 640 Guigo I 'on Avoiding Suffering Kenneth C. Russell offers us some of the homely wisdom of an early Carthusian regarding the ensemble of this world and the ,next. departments 564 Prisms 650 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Obedience: ConcreteExpression and Practical Consequences 656 Book Reviews 666 Indexes to Volume 57 November-Deconber 1998 prisms T imagery of the Holy Spirit as an iconographer"holds an age-old place in the tradition of the Eastern churches. The Hol~ Spirit is painting us in the image and likeness of Goff~ But, of course, we acknowledge Jesus Christ as THE image of the invisible God (Col 1:15). Consequently, in working with us as a painter does with an icon, the Holy Spirit continues throughout our life to bring out in us another face of Jesus, As we enter the Advent preparation for Christmas, this way of understanding our relationship to the S'pirit seems especially appropriate. The Holy Spirit is always laboring to bring to birth within us a fuller identity with Jesus. Our life can be understood as an Advent season in which we are being prepared over the span of our earthly life for the reality of our life-with-God 'forever in Christ. At the same time, from our meditation upon the Gospels and from our following in Christ's footsLeps, our daily life can be seen as one spent living in imitation of the hidden and public life of Jesus. With every stroke of his painter's brush, the Spirit inspires, encourages, and strengthens us to live "like Jesus," to live as Christ-ians. For the Spirit, according to Jesus' promise, is the one who "remains" with us, the one who will "be within" us (Jn 14:17). From the Gospel of St: John, we learn that the Holy Spirit is a gift to us--Jesus' "gift to us of "another Paraclete" (that is, one who functions just like Jesus him-self, who is our first Paraclete) or, perhaps stated with more theological precision, a gift from the "us" of Father and Son. Fumblingly struggling to say something about Review for Religious the identity and life of our triune God, our theological tradition at times expresses it in this way: The Father gives himself over fully to the Son, and the Son gives himself over fully to the Father, and the fullness of the Love shared between them is a Gift-Person, a Love-Person. As a result, our Trinitarian God is caught up in a life of relationship, of total giving, of total sharing--a God who is Love, a God who is all Gift. The Spirit, whose very relational identity within the Trinity is Gift and Love, plays this same role in God's outreach to cre-ation- for example, the imagery of the brooding of Spirit over the waters of creation and the Spirit's overshadowing of Mary in the' an~aunciation scene. From revelation and from our experi-ence, we know that God relates to us through all of creation as "gifts"--gifts that are meant to help us to know, to love, and to serve God by our proper appreciation and use of these gifts. God relates to us through Jesus as gift of identity with us as human. jesus is called the new Adam because we human beings in the Jesus-Gift have .become truly new and original. God relates to us in baptism, confirmation, and all the sacraments and sacramentals of our Christian life in the gift of the one we~call the Holy Spirit. The process of our growing in grace or~ as the Eastern churches say it more daringly, the process of our divinization continues as God's Spirit-Gift stays with us. We CFiristians, made newly human in Christ, have come to understand God in a new and original way: a triune God, a Gift-God, a God of Love. At Christmas, then, we see again, with eyes of faith, God's gift of identity with us through Jesus. Year after year, all the won-der of this gift seen and remembered as a baby fills the heights and depths of our soul. But, in this year dedicated to the Spirit, we recall anew, especially in this Christmas season, how much the Holy Spirit--God-Gi~---keeps giving us the way to be Christ for our times. We pray to the Spirit to bring forth more fully in us the icon of Jesus each of us is created to be--~.made in the image and likeness of God. David L. Fleming SJ That the Spirit paint his icon more fully across the fabric of your life is the Chris~as wish fro,. all of us on the staff of Review for Religious. .November-Dece~ltber 1998 religious vocations CATHERINE BERTRAND Common Threads: -,Are We Weaving or Unraveling? In the last year, as I have traveled nationally and interna-tionally, tit has become clear that certain "threads" are shared, by a considerable number of congregations of women and men religious, especially those that describe themselves as active or apostolic. This article, examining some of these "threads," asking some questions, and offer-ing some answers, is not the last word. There are no sweeping statements to capture the experience of every religious. Rather, I hope to generate further discussion among congregational members as they together examine their own reality and explore what their own future might look like. Many active or apostolic congregations were founded one or two hundred years ago in .,response to particular ministerial needs in various parts of the world. The found, ing purpose often had'more to do with ministry than with a particular spirituality or rule. These congregations, with some help from Vatican Council II, are struggling with the articulation of their charisms and the interpretation of their founding purpose in light of today's church and world. This has often caused the various congregations to remark more' similarities than differences among them- Catherine Bertrand SSND is executive director of the National Religious Vocation Conference (5420 South Cornell Avenue, Suite 105; Chicago, Illinois 60615). Her article was first pub-lished in its quarterly journal, Horizon. Review for Religious" selves, Given this observation, what are some of the common threads evident in these congregations as they look toward, the future? Deepest Longings , Sociologists have noted that the two unmet desires of our age, the deepest longings expressed to~tay by peopl~ of all ages, are for.spirituality and for a sense of belonging. Vocation ministers in both. women's 'and men's congregations can validate these find-ings in their work with potential candidates. Consistently those considering religious life express their reasons as having to do ,with a longing for God and a desire for community life. Meanwhile, longtime members of these congregations seem to be asking themselves whether this in fact 4s .what religious are about, or what their life has to offer today. A thread common to English-spea.king countries worldwide is discussion of the need to take another look at quality community life. Some religious will contend that it is yet to be discovered what that means for active/apostolic congregations whose very foundation and history were overshadowed and strongly influ-enced by monastic rules and traditions. Be that as it may, not only are new members and potential candidates asking for quality com-mon life, but longtime members as well are saying they need to take another look at this. My guess would be that there are as many ideas of what community life could look like as there are people discussing it. There is no going back to what was, although some members ~ would desire that: Others, who have experienced community life in the past as uniformity and sameness, fear that this could become the case again. Some feel that"the struggle to be in a ministry that Is satisfying and in a living situation that does not take every ounce of energy has been long in coming: "Leave it alone!" Others, especially those who entered after Vatican 11,,came because of the common life and shared ministry, and continue to seek ways to have that happen. Some believe community can happen only under one roof. Others believe that such a configuration of community has nothing to do with the direction for the future. Some question~the value of vowed membership, while the expe-rience of others tells them that only when there is clarity about vowed membership does any other way of associating make sense. November-Decentber 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads Although some oflthese concerns differ.in various communities, and may take on different nuances in men's and women's con-gregations, the common threads, the similar questions, are there. Fundamental Changes and Different Realities Over recent years, some definite realities in religious life have given community.life a whole new look. The following paragraphs attempt to describe some of those changes. Space, or how space is regarded, has changed how ~relikious live in community. Many local communities ofwomen'~ congre-gations suffer from limited living space. For a variety of reasons, including some very healthy ones, there.has been a move to smaller living spaces, with fewer people. Unfortunately, religious often end: 'up--mostly for economic reasons--in crowded places with little common space beyond their own bedrooms. There is no room for guest, s, potential new members, or even one's own community members. There is no space, for common prayer, and no room to welc0m~e groups of guests. Religious congregations are not family; they al:e communities of adults; for whom the family model is not helpful. To live simply does not necessarily mean that there can be .no space. Although men's communities may have more space, rJaey seem to be challenged to look at how eas-ily the members can become independent, developing a board-ing- house mentality. Governance, too, has changed how religious live together. Many local commtinities have been trying a more circular model of leadership wherein various responsibilities of leadership are shared. Men's communities seem to 'be less dialogic, to function more expeditiously. No form of governance, however, seems to go without challenge, and no one model is ideal. , Age has also made a difference in how religious live together and ~relate to each other. There are more older members, and fewer new ones. The tendency to settle in bectmes stronger unless deliberate efforts fire made to retain vitality, ' which has little to do with.,age. New members help a community to keep growing and changing. Difference in community size calls for different skills. The abil-ity to b~ self-discl6sing is critical. Where it may once have been considered the. greatest of virtues to be silent, now it is crucial in community to be able to articulate one's thoughts and feelings in Review for Religious an appropriate manner. The smaller the group, the more essen-tial to have healthy members who are able to enter into this kind of sharing. Professionalism and ministry demands certainly affect community life today. Because urgent needs demand responses and because mission is the ov~rriding concern for many religious congrega-tions, this is where most time and energy are spent. The nature of ministry, especially with many women religious now in parish settings, places new demands on quality time in community. Self-Definition Countless efforts among religious focus on the identity and image of religious today: who religious are and what they are about. It appears that often religious define themselves by the work(s) they do. They seem to fall sho~rt when it comes to know-ing how to share some of the other elements of their lives that grow out of the communal dimension: Is' there clarity about those essential elements? Are the spiritual and communal elements of their lives seen as having the power to attract others, not just to new vowed membership, :but also to the varibus ways people can be in part-nership with religious 4ongregations? To religious who are concerned that potential candidates seem to focus only on God and com-munity and have little Or no sense of mission, I offer this thread. From interviewing and assessing candidates for priesthood and religious life, I have found, that among them service is a given. They deeply desire to be of service~ They may not always understand how to direct that generosity within a particular congregation, but what draws them to religious life is a unique context in which to offer service. Most candidates come assuming that Jesus, the Eucharist, and a link to the universal church are foundational to religious lif~. The community they seek is not a warm nest or surrogate family, but a group that will help them serve in a way that they could'not do alone. New members ,help a community to keep growing and changing, What Attracts Young Adults When two hundred young' adults from all over the United November-December 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads States joined more than five hundred vocation directors at the 1996 National Convocation of religious vocation ministers, they spoke to the questions of what was attractive and unattractive . about religious life today. On their application forms they were asked to describe any of their .current involvements in volunteer work, paid ministry, civic activities, and so~forth.Their responses were both amazing and impressive. The candidates that religious congregations would hope to attract are already engaged in ser-vice. They told us that ministry alone will not draw people to religious life. They come because of the community context in which the ministry is situated. They also see community life as happening under one roof. Many times they have no clear idea of w~hat they are asking for When they speaLof their desire for com, munity, but they clearly do not envision it as a "let's get together now and then" experience. Another thread I see in numerous congregations is the sincere desire of many religious to respond to that desire expressed by young people. Most congregations want to have a future and therefore are serious about attracting new members. A thread that is becoming more common in many congregations is being spun in conversations about being local communities of hospi-tality. Much as congregations would like it, this phrase does not describe every local community. Newer members are~well aware of struggles to find suitable, community situations to live in, Longtime members, too, know all too well thee feeling of panic when it comes to finding a local community upon Changing min-istry locations. Some congregations are creatively encouraging some of~their most "life-giving" members to consider housing situations that would allow for an extra room so that communities of hospitality become realities. These delibera~te efforts by some are invitations to all congregational members to take seriously the responsibil- -ity for hospitality. Community as Ministry Religious take seriously their commitment to ministry. Who can argue with that? But is mission understood as being synony-mous with the work they do? I 15elieve that one of the strongest sections of Vita consecrata deals with this very question. It states that community life plays a fundamental role in the spiritual jour- Review for Religious ney of religious, both for their constant renewal and for the full accomplishment of their mission In the world: [The church] wishes to hold up before the world the exam-ple of communities in which solitude is overcome through concern for one another, in which communication inspires in everyone a sense of shared responsibility, and in which wounds are healed throu~gh forgiveness and each person's commitment'to communion is strengthened. The life of communion in fact "becomes a sign for all the world and a compelling force that leads people to faith in Christ . in this way communion leads to mission and itself becomes mission"; indeed, "communion begets communion: In' essen~.~e it is a communion that is missionary." (§§45-46) Do religious believe that community life itself is key to the mission and their ministries? For active/apostolic congregations it seems to be an ongoing struggle. How do congregations arid individuals integrate or balance that healthy or not-so-healthy tension between ministry and community life? Have religious come to define active/apostolic religious life only by works, and often very individualized ministries at that? In many ministry situations there may b~ only one person of a particular congregation on the scene. A developing scenario seems to be that it is in ministry that one receives the greatest affirmation and.the deepest satisfaction, that one's affective needs are met, and that the most creative energy arises. This poses a sharp contrast to the less than life,giving local community situa-tion that religious often describe. Another dimension in this sce-nario is that today religious~ have less knowledge about or understanding of each other's ministries and therefore have fewer opportunities, to be supportive and affirming, ~ ~" : Another thread deserving further consideration is the amount of time and energy given to ministry. I have heard younger, newly professed religious comment that they came from homes where they were aware that everything, including family, always came second to their parents' dareers. They are often surprised to find that in religious life they have that same sense. They seem to respond in one of two ways. Either they quickly fal.1 into the work mode, or they choose to leave. On one occasion a speaker address-ing an audience of religious suggested that, if a congregation is serious about new membership, it may need to reevaluate its min-isterial commitments. Even to think about it brought an audible gasp from the audience. November-December 1998 Bertrand ~ Common Threads Often religious try to accomplish with fewer people what was once done by many more people. No doubt women and men reli-gious are responding to urgent needs in our church and world in creative and heroic ways. Many times, it seems, the very people who top the list as wonderful community members are also the most overextended in ministry. Where is the balance in all of this? What choices are congregations making in addressing these challenges, not just f~or the sake of new members, but for the sake of present membership? . . Some congregations are responding by honestly saying to each other and to others that they prefer to go onliving and working just as they are. Other congregations see a need for some changes. I have attempted to name some of the common reali-ties in religious life that have had an impact on community life. These include models of governance, ways of praying,' living space, aging members, and ministry demands. I would contend that, to the extent that realities in religious life have changed, religious are. invited to develop new skills for living contemporary religious life, giving new shape to religious community life. Skills Needed What are some of the skills to be considered?~ The following list is neither definitive nor exhaustive, but I offer it as a help toward further consideration and dialogue: ' ¯ The need for self-disclosure heads the list, in part because this element of religious life has changed radically in recent years. The change affects not only how one,share~ in dialogue, but also how one participates in prayer with one or more persons. There is an increased need both for sharing and for keeping a healthy sense of boundaries. . ¯ Skills for other-centeredness are key. It is no small challenge to be able to enter into the reality of another, to be generous, to listen. It means taking time for people and situations in commu-nity that may not always be one's first choice of how to use time and energy. It may mean not allowing ministry demands to always come first. ¯ Hospitality As an "in" word these days, but in some situa~- tions it may be as basic as developing social and conversational skills that make life better as occasions arise for religious to invite others into their homes and into their lives. This is particularly key Review for Religious in attracting new members. People cannot choose or ~upport what they do not know, unders(and, or experience. ¯ Skills for healthy sexuality and intimacy are critical elements in the life of any person, and these impact,community life. They affect the way individual religious express who they are, how "at home" they might be as loving, intimate, sexual human beings. They assist religious in having .a sense of self that can support o~hers in their celibate choice and can help still others under-stand celibacy as a viable option. A healthy sexuality includes developing friendsl~ips within and outside community life. It also involves doing whatever is necessary to be a physically and psy-chologically healthy person, someone with whom others would like to share community. ¯ A healthy spirituality is another key element in quality com-munity life, having both a communal and individual dimension. It means looking for ways to be supportive of the spiritual life of others in community, participating in the liturgical life of the church, and expressing the shared spirituality of a particular con-gregation. It also means finding ways to participate in the ongo-ing revelation of God through individuals and in community. ¯ Skills for shared living involve negotiating living space, being attentive to the little .things that can make or break community liv-ing, These skills make it possible for religious to choose to live with one or more fellow religious when it would be easier to live alone, or they may suggest ways of creatively sharing life with others if particular circumstances' demand living alone for a time. They help one to be open to sharing life with a variety of people, in a variety of ways, ways that are life-giving, not death-dealing. ¯ To be attentive to ongoing learning and enrichment demands that one strive to be updated about religious life, spirituality, the, ology, and so forth, in: addition to fulfilling~"professional" demands for ongoing education. It also means being attentive to one's development as an "interesting" person who can contribute.to community discussions and learning. It means taking time for enrichment, alone and with others. ¯ Friendship in community also involves skills, though no one can make friendship happen. One must look for ways to come to know the people .with whom one shares life, and must do whatever one can to create a community to.which people want to come home. Friendship skills include being able ~nd willing to cele-brate people .and events 4n the company of others. November-December 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads ¯ Leadership ski'lls need to be nurtured in every community member even though such skills will be expressed in many dif-ferent ways on a variety of levels. These skills include taking indi-vidual responsibility within a community of adults, having a voice and being honest and up-front in using that voice for the good of the whole, getting involved in the workings of the congregation ~3n the local level and beyond, and keeping actively in touch with congregational leaders. ¯ Conflict-management skills invite the convictitn that each person is worth the time it~takes to live together well. They involve being honest as well as kind with feedback, being account-able for any effort or lack of effort at being a positive presence in a community. Conflict management calls for a healthy sense of self that allows one to deal with issues, not destroy persons. These are some skills that seem key to living contemporary community life. Some Other Threads .There continue to be questions. Are religious setting them-selves up for failure,and disappointment in taking another look at quality community life, another look at that particular thread? Is this a challenge beyond them? No one can make 'a significant responge alone, not the. congregational leader or any individual member, not a new member or potential candidate, not the voca-tion director. A significant response requires the efforts of as man, y as possible--many interwoven threads. There are people among us who lack either the desire, the aptitude, or both for living community life in this day and age. There are ministerial situations that demand different ways of being community. But in many congregations a substantial group of peo-ple have both the desire and the aptitude to make co.mmunity life work, even under one roof. Community life takes time and energy. There 'is no way around that, even in the best-case scenarios. If congregations want the future to be different, some radical decisions must be made in the present-'if not always big deci-sions, then some smaller ones that are no less radical: These are the ones that touch the day-to-day living of the entire community. How willing am I to be "inconvenienced" for the sake of our future, ~for the sake of not just new members, but also present members? This question is screaming for anoanswer.from indi=' Review for Religious vidual religious and from congregations. The answer may mean reclaiming community as ministry, community as mission. The final thread I will touch upon is perhaps stating the obvi-ous. Vocation ministers, who are some of the most hopeful peo-ple around, indidate time and again that in their work the greatest challenge 4s their own congregational members' lack of aware-ness and response. They do not assume ill will, for they see that people are very busy, involved in many things. How, then, are communitymembers to be made more alert to ways of promot-ing vocations? Congregational leaders are critical players 'in these efforts, b~t congregational members are no less important. Do we pas-sionately desire another generation of religious for the sake of God's people? Are we willing to invite new generations to consider religious life as a viable option, or by our silence have we made the decision for them? The responses to these questions cannot be postponed, to be considered at some other time, Our only time is ,' Questions for Individuals and Communities Something to do now is raise some of the ,following questions in the privacy of your o~n mind and heart--but also to raise them in discussion with other religious in your own congregation, in your own local community, or in any number of other settings.,~ Skills for Self-disclosure What in your life indicates that you have a sense of legitimate boundaries, your own and those of others? What enables .you to express your thoughts and feelings in dialogue and in faith shar-ing? How do you nurture mental and emotional health that allows you to be self-disclosing? How do yob develop healthy self-esteem, self-confidence that allows you to share yourself with others? What gives you the sense that others enjoy being with you? Skills for Other-cehteredness How do you balance self-maintenance with generous pres-ence and service? What gets most attention and energy in your local community? How do you foster local' community life that reaches beyond itself?. What enables you to enter into the re~ility of another? How do you present religious life as a viable option Noventber-Decentber 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads for someone else? How do you share ministry with each other, even if you are in different settings? What sharpens your ability to be a good listener? Skills four Hospitality What do you do to develop social and conversational skills? How are you willing to be inconvenienced for the sake of wel-coming others? What do you do to encourage, potential new mem-bers and to invite them, and others as well, into yo~ur life and into your home? How do you cope with diversit'v? What prevents you at times from being hospitable and welcoming? Skills/:or Healthy Sexuality and lntimaey How would someone, describe your outlook on life? What helps you .to be happy and hopeful? How do you express that sense? How do. you express your celibate choice? How do you describe it? How are you generative in your celibate choice?. What steps do you take to develop and sustain healthy friendships? How does the way you live speak to health and wholeness? Skills for a Healthy Spirituality How :are you faithful to personal and communal'prayer? What other elements of your life indicate a seritusness about your rela-tionship with God? How do you participate in the liturgical life of the church? How does your prayer life reflect the .spirituality of your congregation? How does your spiritual life reflect and support a concern for others? ~ Skills for Shared Living How does the shared living space where you live facilitate quality community life? When are you~generous or territorial in your useof common space and, goods? How are you attentive to the "litde things" that can cause friction or tranquillity in a shared living space? How willing, are you to negotiate, and sometimes settle for conditions that are not to your liking? The persons you live with--what keeps your expectations of them realistic? Skills fo, r Ongoing Learning and Enrichment ~ What steps do you take to keep updated regarding religious-life trends, spirituality, theology? How do you make time for cur-rent reading, awareness of world issues, which can be shared in Review for Religious community? What do you do for enrichment and leisure, indi-vidually and as a local community? What are some of the best ways to "waste time" together? Skills for Friendship in Community What helps you to come to know and appreciate the people with whom you share community life? How do you reflect an openness to potential friendship in community without demand-ing it? What about you would give other people a desire to live in community with you? What about local community makes it a situation to which you want to come home? How do you make choices for quality community time in the face of ministerial demands? How do you celebrate people and events in your local community? How do you share your family and friends with your congregation? How do you give yourself and others a sense of freedom in community relationships? Skills for Leadership What is the role and understanding of leadership in your local community? How do you participate in those responsibilities? What is your expectation of those in congregational leadership in relating to local communities? In what ways do you take ini-tiative in your local community? Sk(lls for Conflict Management , What helps you to be honest and up-front in dealing with conflict in community? How do you give helpful feedback to peers, and how, do you receive it from them? To whom do you hold yourself accountable for trying to live quality community life? For you, what elements of local community can become sources of conflict? What are the most effective ways for you to resolve conflict in your local community? Are you, are we, weaving or unraveling? November-December 1998 SHANTI ABEYASINGHA The Decline in Religious Vocations: : ,A Weberian Perspective y-783 _ religious life, that many who join religious congregations give up halfway, and that some leave even after final profession are things that merit inquiry. For many a religious congregation, vocation questions and vocation promotion are top priorities. A superior of a women's religious congregation told me that she and the sis-ters were trying desperately to get young girls to join because comphter statistics had shown that the congregation would die out if a hundred or more new persons did not come in every year. Deaths each year were outnumbering the entrants, and, accord= ingly, aging.itself had become a more serious~problem too. There are instances where some congregations in the West have come to Asia, Africa, and Latin America (places with more .vocations) in search of candidates. The phenomenon of men;'and women religious coming from the West to work as missionaries also seems to be a thing of the past. In fact, the reverse process seems to be taking place. Religious congregations with branches in Asia, Africa, and Latin America are asking them to come up with volunteers for missionary work in other lands. These instances and others would seem to indicate that religious life is in disarray. Shanti Abeyasingha CSSR has held administrative positions in his order, has done socioeconomic development work in Sri Lanka, and has con-ducted retreats and missions in Sri Lanka, India, and Malaysia. His address is: Redemptorists, Santa Maria; George E. de Silva Mawatha; Kandy, 20000; Sri Lanka. Review for Religious The interesting thing, however, is that the problem of a lack of vocations, which many modern-day religious congregations are facing, was seldom an issue for the founders and foundresses ofireligious congregations~ They do not stem to have had diffi-culty getting people to join their ranks. As their histories often tell us, .people were attracted to the particular work they started and to their commitment and deilication. Many a °person was ready to give up everything and join them. God's Fidelity and Religious Congregations' Continued Existence The Bible speaks again and again about the faithfulness of God. Evenothough we humans are unfaithful, God is shown as the one who is ever faithful to his pr~mises. Along with his faith-fulness, his caring love is always there, ever ready to come to our aid. This' love is brought out clearly in the Exodus experience. The words "I have seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt, and have heard their cry 'because of their taskmasters; I know their suffering, and I have comedown to deliver them" (Ex 3:7- 8) expresses it all. vWhen God makes his covenant with the Israelites at Mount Sinai, the people experience and~ understand their God precisely as one who always intervenes on their behalf to alleviate suffering and oppressiom All through human history we encounter human suffering and misery. These are vestiges df sin and .are manifest in the self-ishness of persons who do not care 'for their brothers and sisters. God continues to care for these unfortunate persons all through history. He continues to prove his faithfulness .and concern by raising up women and men who dedicate their lives in the ser-vice of people whom others oppress or ignore and even history forgets. These charismatic personalities emerge especially in moments of, crisis and,decadeffce in society. They, like Moses, are inspired to do God's bidding on behalf of his people. They are in line'with ~the prophets, who denounced oppression while at the same time announcing to the people the good news of liberation and deliverance. In the line of the prophets, these founders of congregations interpreted the signs of the times and responded vigorously. They highlighted something ~hat answered a need in society. They manifested through their actions the faith~lness andthe ¯ November-DecembD" 1998 L -79 Abeyasingba * The Decline in Religious Vocations caring presence of God as he continues to come down and deliver his people from their bondage. Here we have the actual reason for the beginning and the continued exi~stence of religious congre-gations, namely, t~o be extensions of God's presence in the world. The "Routinization" of a charism Max Weber has something to say about such charismatic lead-ers. He says that charismatic leaders are creative and do things that are not in line with the normal run of things in society. He is quick to add, however, that such charismatic leaders do not last. They are a passing phenomenon in society. They appear at cer-tain times in history to answer particular needs of the time. In the course of time, especially after the death of the charismatic leader, his or her original insight becomes traditi~nalized or ratio-nalized or both.~ Weber adds: "It is only in the initial stages, and so long as the charismatic leader acts in a way which is completely outside every day social organization, that it is possible for his followers to live communistically in a community of faith and enthusiasm.''2 Thus, according to Weber, it is only a question of time before the initial charism of the leader becomes "routinized.''3 Usually this takes place after his or her death. In this transformation into a permanent routine structure, one of the first things altered is the anti-economic character of the original charisma.4The followers pursue security and economic stability (as part of security) to. make up for the absence of the founder. Everyday needs and the ordi-nary details of administration necessitate such an adaptation. This process took place even in the church after the death of the Lord Jesus Christ. With routinization comes an attempt to preserve the leader's thought and way of life. Normally this takes the form of pre-serving his or her letters, instructions,- documents, and sayings, along with eyewitness reports, accounts from the~first companions, and so on. Guidelines are set for the training of future followers. These are usually spelled out in documents such as rules, consti-tutions, and statutes, which are updated from time to time by general chapters and by special commissions appointed by them. The result is a system of organization different from that which existed during the time of the charismatic leader. During the leader's lifetime, the way of making decisions, the way of act- Review for Religious ing, and in short the whole way the group functioned could be said to have been somewhat arbitrary and unpredictable. There was no formal or well-defined way of doing a particular thing. The leader's personality was the key factor, and it overshadowed what-ever structures and procedures were already in place, regarding the community and its mission. Max Weber says that "the routinization of charisma also takes the form of the appropriation of powers of control and of eco-nomic advantages by the followers,or disciples and of regulation of the recruitment of these groups.''5 In other words, the rou-tinization process in a congregation includes the manner and the basis of choosing leaders, the training or tests of eligibility of the new recruits, the way of governing the members, their rights and duties, and so on.6 Also, it is very much akin to the adaptation that constantly takes place in economic life--for the economy is on~ of the principal and continually operating forces in everyday life. In the whole question of routinization, the economic condi-tions play a leading role'and do not constitute merely a dependent variable.7 Bureaucratic Org.anization and Religious Life From the foregoing it will be clear that accompanying the whole process of the routinization of a charism is the attempt to coordinate activities. Weber calls this the process of rationaliza-tion or the process of bureaucratic organizatipn. He goes on to say that this is a distinctive mark of the modern era. Bureaucracy has shaped modern politics, the modern economy, modern technol'- ogy, and modern church life and religious life too. Max Weber considered the bureaucratic organization to be technically supe-rior to all other forms of administration. He says' also that only through this device, namely bureaucracy, has large-scale planning of the modern state and the modern economy become possible,s The main characteristics of a bureaucratic organization are: ¯ It is organized according to rational principles: rules, con-stitutions, and statutes. (This is something that developed in religious congregations.) ¯ The offices are ranked in a hierarchical order. (Religious congregations, too, have a hierarchical order, that is, gen-eral, his or her consulto~rs, the different secretariats, provin-cials, vice-provincials, and so on.) Novetttber-December 1998 Abeyasingba * The Decline in Religious Vocations Efficiency has hhd the effect of making religious congregations inefficient in answering the changed needs of the times. ¯ The operations (of offices) are characterized by imper-sonal rules. (The various offices in religi~ous congregations, too, have clearly defiiaed procedures.) ¯ The members are governed by methodical allocation of areas of jurisdiction.(Today the members of religious con-gregations fire allocdted 'into provinces, vice-provinces, regions, and so on.) ¯ Appointments to offices are generally made according to specialized qualifications. Those who can fit into the bureaucratic administrative set-up are the ones who are normally considered for s~h offices. Just as bureaucracy has its advantages, it also has its draw-backs. Its very strengths are also its weaknesses. Because of its rationalized organization, bureaucracy sometimes becomes unwieldy and even stultifying in dealing with individual cases. Modern rationalized and bureaucratized systems find themselves incapable of dealing with particularities. In other words, the individual's initiative and creativity are submerged under a deluge of reasons that are derived mechanically from the 0 code of behavior.~° Depersonalization is another result of bureaucratization. The organization seems to take precedence over the personhood of the individual." In the last analysis, although bureaucratization and rationalization may have increased the efficiency of the o.r, ga: nization, this very efficiency threatefis to dehumanize its ere-ators. 12 In such a setup, 0there is little room for charismatic personalities to emerge. , From what has been said, one sees the implications of bureau-cratization for the functioning~of religious life. While on the one hand it has organized and systematized administration, on the other hand it has stifled some new initiatives and new thinking. Persons who propose changes in hitherto :accepted ways of doing things could very well find themselves isolated or labeled rebel-lious or considered excrescences that need to be removed because they are a hindrance to the smooth running of the ihstitute. Worse still would be the sad refility of some finding themselves outside the institute because their ideas do not find acceptance with the Review for Religious administration. To put it in another way,. this very efficiency has had the effect of making religious congregations inefficient in answering the changed conditions and changed needs of the times. Understanding Vatican II's Renewal Guidelines Something that should not be forgotten is that the intention of these charismatic leaders was to answer particular needs in society. They were answering a local need. What took priority was the need of the people, not the organization of a group with rules and. regulations. Only much later, as numbers increased and in some cases lived far from the original local area, did the group give ,special attention to its own formation. This fact should be kept in mind when we speak of the inspiration of the founder or foundress. As has been explained, with the death of the charismatic ,leader, the routinization process took. over,' bringing .to the now more organized institute a corresponding sense of securityoand stability ,among the members. This in turn created a certain insen-sitivity to the actual needs of the people, espec!ally the poor. It is in this context that one has to understand the appeal made by the Second Vatican Council: The appropriate renewal of religious life involves two simul-taneous pr%cesses: (I) a continuous return to the sources ~ 9f all Christian life and to the original inspiration b~hind a given community and (2) an adjustment of the community to the changed conditions of the times. Clearly, the council envisaged two simultaneous processes for the renewal of religious life. It went on to enumerat.e certain princi-ples in accord with which such renewal was to proceed: to follow Christ, to participate in the life of the church, to seek to identify the institute's,particular character and purpose, and to be aware of contemporary human conditions and of the needs of the church. Renewal in the Context of Max Weber's Routinization With such an impetus given by the council, one could have noticed certain initiatives taken by various communities. Many congregations set up commissions to study their roots, going into the history of their founding inspirations. General chapters made it their chief objective to redraft their respective rules and con- Novonber-Dece~nber 1998 Abeyasingba * The Decline in Religious Vocations stitutions according to the mind and spirit of the documents of the Second Vatican Council. That the various congregations made a sincere effort to adjust themselves to the changed conditions of the times cannot be denied. In the renewed constitutions one could notice that provision was made for individual initiatives. Furthermore, units of the congregation in various countries were given the freedom to adapt and change according to their par-ticular situation. These were praiseworthy changes indeed, which by and large were done after a general consultation of all the members. One could not help noticing, however, that the final outcome was worked out within a bureaucratic setup.which was hierarchical in its composition. Any new efforts were to be tried out within a certain organizational framework of the congregation. Furthermore, the starting point of such ventures was a position of economic security. This meant that the inSecurity, the uncertainty. the risk--very much a part of the life and experience of the fouflders when they first set out to answer the need of the hour!- was not there. Also~ the Vatican Council's guidelines for adjusting the com-munity to the changed conditions of the times were not followed fully. There was a general move towards a more simple lifestyle. Institutes made changes in their religious garb, in food customs, in their cloister regulations, and so forth. There was, however, no sign of a change of structures in keeping with what the founders had had during their lifetime. Changes took place only within confines that ensured that the boat would not be rocked too much. It had to be so, inasmuch as the process of roudnization was firmly entrenched. Adjusting to the changed co.n.ditions of the times (at the coun-cil's direction) was, then, not an easy task. In practical terms, con-gregations, in spite of all their goodwill and efforts to be relevant in the present day, found themselves up against a bureaucratic system incapable of providing room for the charismatic figures who might have renewed them by making the necessary paradigm shifts. By and large this could be attributed to the routinization of the charism that religious congregations underwent after the death of their founders. As a result, the religious-life renewal that the council proposed could not be realistically achieved. If the needs of people in the various areas had been met, there would have been no dearth of vocations in the religious congregation. In Review.for Religious other words, there is no need for advertising a product that is selling and is in demand in the market. Efficiency or Effectiveness ~Max Weber's sociological observations, when applied to a reli-gious institute, do indeed seem to throw some light on the reasons for the'almost universal decline in religious vocations. As long as a bureaucratic way of life governs religious congregations, they will almost always manifest a certain efficiency in whatever work they do. The work, however, ma3i not be effective, for such a system of administration does not always respond in a vigorously prophetic manner to the urgent and crying needs of the people. ' The history of the church shows that ~hange has often come from areas off the beaten track, where some indi-viduals had found a way for themselves. In modern religious cong.regations, organized in the way they are, it is almost impossible to accommodate such trailblazing elements. It can be noted historically that only the dark eras of history witness the emergence of new religious congregations. Critical times almost always bring about a breakdown of existing systems, but it is .in these chaotic and confusing situations that charismatic per-sonalities seem to apEear out of nowhere. The late Mother Teresa's Missionaries of:Charity were such a response to a chaotic situation in one of the most populated and crowded' cities in the-world, Calcutta. Her prophetic voice of compassion and kindness to the poorest of the poor cut through such barriers as caste, religion, and class. Her living witness and work proclaimed to all people the dignity of each and every per-son, which a world had lost sight of in its quest for power and wealth. Her response had a universal and global character. Her message is clear, something that religious congregations could ponder as they rethink their charisms while they and the world step into the 21 st century. The decline in religious vocations is not an entirely negative thing. A search through the crisis will make us see the reasons It is in chaotic and confusing situations that charismatic personalities seem to appear out of nowhere. L5"_S.5"__ Noventber-December 1998 Abeyasingba ¯ The Decline in Religious Vocations why such a situation has come to pass. Instead of looking at pres-ent- day confusion with tunnel vision, one should see it in.a global perspective and as a precursor of growth. Mother Teresa's e~tam-pie could help towards such a rethinking. So also could the obser-vations made by Max Weber. They can facilitate taking stock and analyzing the present situation of religious congregations. From thls starting point religious congregations could proceed to make the drawbacks and weaknesses that are found in current struc-tures irrelevant. They could make themselves ready to face the challenges of tomorrow. Weber's.Ansights, by helping us learn the truth about ourselves, can ready us to proceed to generatiye and creative actions. They can challenge us to do some honest and humble soul searching about our present situation, In St. Paul's words (2 Co 12:10), "When I am weak, then Iam strong." Notes l Max Weber, The Theory of Social and Economic Organizqtion, trans. A.R. Henderson and Talcott Parsons (U.K.: William Hodge~ and Company, 1947), p. 334. :2 Weber, Theory, p. 337. 3 "Routinization" is Max Weber's term for the phenomenon of an original idea (here, that of the charismatic leader) becoming organized a~d conceptualized in the course of time. This is the result~of the interpret-ing, analyzing,, rationalizing, and so forth that take place when congre-gations study the writings of their founders, the accounts, of' their immediate companions and a.ssociates, the recollections of others Eho knew them, and so forth. 4 In their initial insight, almost all charismatic leaders are anti-eco~ nomic; they set t~p almost no economic system for collecting or raising funds. It is the personali.ty of the leaders that attracts others~' td them and also brings in donations and gifts. The aim of charism~itic le'aders is to achieve a special goal (filling a need of the society at that time, usually serving the poor), not to meet their own day-to-day needs. SWeber, Theory, p. 337. 6 The original basis of recruitment was the founders' personal charism. A .charism is something that can only be ;'awakened" and ".tested," not something that can be taught and learned. Novitiates arid houses of for° marion, however, tend to assume a teaching stance. See W~eber, Theory, pp. 337-338. 7 Weber, Theory, p. 342. s When religious congregations spread beyond their original geo-~ graphical area and the routinization process had been set in motion, there was no preventing a bureaucratic organization. Review for Religious o Lewis A. Coser, Masters of Sociological Thought: Ideas in Historical and Social Context (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1971), pp. 230- 231. 10 Reinhard Bendix, Max Weber, An Intellectual Portrait (Garden City, N Y.: Doubleday, 1960), p. 421. ~ Bendix, pp. 421-422. 12 Coser, Masters, pp. 231-232. ,3 Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis), §2. the departed say we are not dead see ohr faces hear ohr voices when you leadt expect like neighbors visitihg unhnnounced we are'some~lace ~ withih view within earshot like others in your house but we are, at liberty to come and go without weight.or circumscription like winds in harp strings like real answers to your real questions Avis Kunca Kubick Novetttber-Decetttber 1998 JOHN BLAKE MORE Spiritual Maturity ife.in the spirit Reading my first Thomas Merton book back in my early twenties, I came across the phrase "spiritual maturity," an expression that delighted and fascinated me even though I had no clue of what it was designed to express. I won-dered about it for several months and even reflected on its possible meaning, but then it receded into the less acces-sible regions of my consciousness and enjoyed untroubled slumber for some time. But not forever. Over the years, as I have become more life-mature and more di'scernibly chronologically mature, the phrase "spiritual matur!ty" has--through reading, conversation, and simple observa-tion- returned to my sight and consciousness many times, to haunt me but also to stimulate me to explore further its possible meanings and its probable connections to every-day life. What would.a spiritually mature person look like or act like? Am I a spiritually mature person? Is it possi-ble for me to become one? Do I know any spiritually mature persons? All this questioning and thinking over the years has led me to formulate tentatively some answers, some ideas that I think have helped me and that I want to share with others. Some of these ideas are derivative: I got them from other folks. Others are either original or synthetic, fash-ioned from items found in reading and conversation and from observing the behavior and attitudes of people I meet. John Blake More, new to our pages, writes from Tejtn 34 - Sm. 20; Cancfin Quintana Roo; 77500 Mexico. Review for Religious A spiritually mature person is probably creative. At least one religious tradition holds that we are made in the image and like-ness of God, and, if we ask ourselves in what this image and like-ness really consist, we naturally come up with the notion that we are like God because we are creative as he is creative. We are ere- ~tive because God made us that way. He made us free and there-fore creative. As humans we show our creativity in at least three 'important spheres (and here I follow Paul Ricoeur): having, power, and valuing. Having. In the exercise of creativity all people, even the spir-itually mature, need to have some material.goods for their own use. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. But the major religious tradi-tions and the spiritual values they represent do not seem to place much importance on the acquisition of wealth, do they? In fact, they see great riches as a disvalue. So spiritually mature persons are not much concerned with acquiring wealth and possessions beyond what they need to get along decently in life. On the other hand, people who have lots of possessions have greater opportu-nities to be creative. They can create new jobs for others, build libraries ~nd museums, or Simply give some of their excess money to .people who need it to survive. In itself; possessing wealth really seems to be spiritually neutral. If one sees possession as steward-ship, it can be something positive. If, however, people believe they are the outright owners without considering that God has entrusted them with these possessions and that they must appor-tion them responsibly, then they are probably not much con-cerned with growth in the Spirit. ~ 0 Power. Spiritually mature persons are probably aware of their own need for power, but are also conscious that everyone else has the same need. We need, in the first place, power over ourselves: self-determination to decide where to live or work, who our friends and associates will be, what kind of lifestyle we will adopt or develop for ourselves. We also need to be able to exercise power over others, but this must be legitimate power, the kind of power society assigns to us and expects us to exercise intelli-gently for the cbmmon good. We have to make choices for, our children. We have to determine the ~activities of our employees if we have any. But, in these activities and others like them, if we allow strength and power to become force and coercion, we can be pretty sure we are not much interested in becoming spiritually mature. We are dismayed when we read of dictatorial aggression, November-December 1998 More ¯ Spiritual Maturity ruthless kidnappings, tribal wars, but force and coercion can occur in little things of daily life and they can have the appearance of being extremely civilized and in the best of taste. :Valuing. In the sphere of valuing, we show our creativity by making determinations about the relative worth of things and activities. Nowadays it is out of fashion to be what people call "judgmental" "because, if you tell p6ople they are doing some-thing wrong, like putting a round peg into a square hole, the~ may feel threatened or embarrassed, feelings which may be owing to a kind of paranoia rather than to comments one may offer con-structively. Spiritually mature persons seldom if ever "condemn," but th.ey must in certain situations be judgmental.Th'at is why ¯ we':haSte crii:ical faculties: to make decisions about what is worthy and what is not, to be ab!e.to distinguish between the junk and the good stuff. And that is what prophecy is all about: shouting from the housetops when you see injustice and abuse.The spiritually mature person, then, distinguishes between healthy and modest criticism done in a spirit of love, and foolish or malicious remarks made in some other spirit. We must evaluate or criticize our cul-ture, our government, our friendships, and of course ourselves. While smiling permissiveness is no virtue, it is also true that unwavering tolerance and spiritual maturity have .always been on the closest terms. One good sign of spiritual growth is a weakening of our most cherished prejudices. When we hate, fear, or feel threatened by another person simply because he is different from us, then we are failing to appreciate the image and likeness of God in that person. These are three general areas that merit consideration as we ponder the nature of spiritual maturity, but other things, too, should be looked at. Frie.ndship is of great importance in the spir-itual life. All the grea( figures of the .important religious tradi-tions, those who had the ,primal mystical experience that gave .rise to those traditions, had friendships with other people. They loved their friends dearly and openly. We, too, are right to treat, our friends lovingly, with tenderness. We look forward to seeing them and spending time with them. We talk with them about'our desires and aspirations, and we confide to them our fears and failures. We inspire them and corisole them.Sometimes we revive ~them when their spirits droop. ,Some people who are mature in the spirit experience some' difficulty in maintaining, friendships for reasons of transport, distance, or schedule, but such difficulties are ! Review for Relig4ous not insurmountable. People can ha-be a firm and meaningful frien'dghip by correspondence. Sure, by mail. Why not? If you know someone whose values and outlook are compatible with yours, you can have an ongoing correspondence with him or her that will be significant for both your live~, and also enriching. You do not have to write anything world-shaking or mind-bog-gling. Writing takes a little more time and effort than a face-to-face chat, and it does not offer the same consolations and pleasures as real face-to-face togetherness, but it is still something of great worth. Growth in the spirit is closely connected to skill in the ~ine art of listening. When I told a friend that some-one had said I was a good conversationalist, he answered that what she really meant was that I am a good listener. I wonder how right he was.'The plain fact, though, i~ that people do like to be listened to, and the spiritually mature person is a master at listening lovingly, corn-" passionately, but also selectively. By this I do not mean the kind of selective listening that'~ filters all I hear through my own ego supports in order to register only those things that satisfy or interest me. Although an interchange between friends may involve a recounting of events or a descrip-tion of facts, when I listen to a friend I am not trying to acquire factual information. I am trying to get a sense of his or her state of mind and soul. This is not always easy, in view of personality differences and of people's varying ability to articulate their inner dispositions. But~ When we listen, we need to care mostly about the person we are listening to. Spiritually mature persons have a delightful sense of child-like wonder that makes everything new. Sophisticated people who have seen it all and done it all, or just do not want to get involved, area lov less fun to be with than men and women who have a deep spiritual sense of wonder. Wonder leads to openness and surprise, contentment and faithfulness, curiosity and enthusiasm. It also brings an appreciation of the uniqueness of each person along with a sense of brotherhood and equality. " Surprising as it may seem, spiritually mature people are hardly ever highly disciplined people. This is because they are loving persons. They do everything that has to be done, they do it at the appointed time, and they 'do it right--not because they have discipline, but because they have love. They are.motivated to read Friendship is of great importance in the spiritual life. November-December 1998 More ¯ SpiritualMaturity Surprising as it may seem, spiritually mature people are hardly ever highly disciplined people. books and wash floors and get to work on time because they live out Augustine's dictum "Love and do as you please." A sullen-faced p4rson probably has too much discipline and too little love. When the persons I am talking about look out at the world, they-see a lot of ambiguity and they embrace it heartily as a major component of human life. If the Creator is good, why does he allow us to suffer so much? Why should I help the poor if poverty is not eradicable? This kind of ambiguity is embraced and accepted by mature .persons of all spiritual tradi-tions, and in the case of Christian spir-ituality there is the model of the ambiguity of the cross. Why should I forgive these people if they are killing me? Why should I ask my Father for help if he has abandoned me? And, putting the two questions together, why should I ask my Father to forgive these people who are killing me if my Father has already abandoned me? For the spiritually mature these are actually non.questions, even as they represent realities that have to be faced. Not because maturity pro-duces historical or social blindness, but because serious consider-ation of such issues leads to acceptance of reality. Such questions, when formulated as questions, are not answerable. And even here ~here is a further ambiguity: how can I accept the reality of drug abuse, teenage pregnancy, rampant poverty and ignorance, and on and on, and still work to change all these social ills, to provide some alleviation to all the suffering they cause? Does "That's the way the world is" mean "why try to change it!"? Language use, too, has to be considered in connection,with spiritual maturity. As little children we learn to use language as an instrument to further our own designs and to get others to behave in ways that promote our own interests. If we learn this skill well as children and then refine it as adults, we become wonderful manipulators or even politicians, and this is why. spiritually mature people hardly ever go into politics. They lack skill in using lan-guage instrumentally. They say what they mean and they mean what they say. They use language to inform or to persuade, but never to.manipulate. Modern societies view independence as a positive andhighly desirable virtue. Mos't parents say they want their children to Review for Religious become independent. We admire the "independent spirit." Actually, such independence is a fiction and a most undesirable one. In reality, each of us is highly dependent on at least a few other humans, and we should be. Living in human society means being interdependent: I depend on you and you depend on me. This is an important ingredient in the cement that holds human society together and promotes the development of culture. Instead of~insisting on their independence, spiritually mature persons consider themselves autonomous--which suggests the ability to live and act in freedom from outside control, coercion, or manip-ulation. That is different from independence because in my free-dom I acknowledge that I depend--sometimes radically--on others, and they on me. In our day most of us are aware (sometimes painfully aware) that the subject matter of life (the real business of human exis-tence) is change and that, in the best case, change takes the form of transformation of the person into an ever more human creature. Being human is a good thing and does not mean, as the cynic 'believes, unremitting egotism and venality. Before he started feel-ing hi.s oats, Adam was so perfect that he had conversations with God as they walked "in the cool. of the day." Being human should mean changing arid becoming perfect, as our Father is perfect. Since most of us consider such perfection an unrealizable ideal, persons who think about becoming spiritually mature prob-ably have a set of unattainable goals that they take quite seriously and adhere to assiduously. They have probably formulated a set of precepts which relate to these goals and which articulate their creatureliness and humanness during their inner conversations with themselves and with' the Spirit of God. In my own thinking about becoming mature in the Spirit, I have come up tentatively with three precepts that reflect my own human creatureliness, but are also ordered toward my capacity to become a "partaker of the divine naturE." I use them to talk to myself. Let me offer them here. Deepen your understanding of reality. Try to get a good grasp of reality by asking the ~right questions. The right questions always have three distinguishing characteristics: they.are unanswerable, they always lead to other and better questions, and they almost always begin with why. Acquiring knowledge requires study and learning from good teachers and good books, along with the will-ingness to undergo the suffering involved in replacing stale beliefs November-December 1998 More ¯ Spiritual Maturity with new data. It also dem'ands increasing connectedness to the culture in which I live and awareness of how life is lived in other cultures. What I should be looking for are meaning and connec-tion: the ultimate unity of all being and its essential oneness with the Absolute. ' Refine your tastes. Begin by distinguishing the merely attractive or pretty from the truly beautiful. If you were brought up on rock music, Mozart probably leaves you cold. Praxiteles probably has little to say to you if you think Schwarzenegger and Stallone are beautiful, Biat we should perhaps not consider ourselves less wor~ thy humans if we are drawn.to the merely attractive or pretty. ' This happens in the best of families, doesn't it? As young peo-ple, when we are most curious about the world and our place in it, we are bombarded with sounds and images and esthetic val-ues from the popular culture. Butwe eventually grow out of that; we ~"put away the things of a child," as St. Paul says. Evil is, of course, the ultimate ugliness, and our involvement in it dimin-ishes our humanity and tarnishes the image of God in us. ~ Formalize your ethics. Here we make a distinction between for-mal and material moral norms. Material norms deal with specific actions and decisions such as killing, steal!ng, and lying (not rec-ommended); and with praying, respecting authority, and being faithful (highly approved and even urged). There is only one norm for those who follow the way of formal ethics: Always seek the good and avoid what is evil. This norm is assimilated and interi-orized by spiritually mature persons to the ext~nt that it becomes part of their nature. In all their decisions and actions, attitudes and dispositions, they keep both eyes on the truly good: good for themselves, their family, their society, their nation, their 151anet: The more this single norm gets imprinted on their souls, the less they have to run through a mental checklist of material norms (do's and don'ts) to see what is prohibited and what is approved. "Seek what is good and avoid what is evil." 'Finally, spiritually mature persons are surely happy persons who radiate to o~hers their joy at living in this world with other people and at spending periods of time in prayerful silence com-muning with the Absolute. Their joy is increased by the knowl-edge that whatever spiritual maturity they may have attained is in fact a free gift from a loving and gracious God. Review for Religious DENNIS J. BILLY A "Spiritdal Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology MGY first encounter with Bernard H~iring,'ithe renowned erman Redemptorist who wrote such significant w. orks as The Law of Christ (1954)~and Free and Faithful in Christ (1978- 1981) and whom many have hailed as the father of contemporary Catholic moral theology, came during a' congress of Redemptorist moral theblogians held at Aylmer; Quebec~ 26-30June 1989. Or/ the second day of the congress,, after he had given an insightful presentation to the general assembly on the state of moral theol-ogy since Vatican Council II, I found myself sitting next to him at lunch as hemused out loud in his weak, barely audible voice (from his long and difficult battle with throat cancer) on the future of moral,theological reflection within the Catholic tradition. Then, as now, a single thought stood out from all the rest: "We have lost sight of the Holy Spirit. In the future, moral theology must give more emphasis to the role of the Spirit. Otherwise, all is lost." Hiiring was so insistent on ~his point that he stated it out-right .at a later session in a rare personal intervention from the floor, For more than eight years, I hav~ been p~ndering the mean-ing of these quiet, unassuming words perhaps in ways which he himself might not have accepted. Retrieving the Spirit Given the vast varieties of pseudo-mysticism in the history of Christianity and the great facility with which the name of the Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor, writes again from Rome, where his address is Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. November-December 1998 Billy * A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology Spirit can be and has been invoked as a way of avoiding critical moral reflection, it is easy to understand how, quite early on, within orthodox circles a latent (and sometimes overt) suspicion grew of anything that even vaguely resembled a charismatic ren-dering of truth by a small "Spirit-filled" elite. To a large extent the church's magisterial structure (that is, its emphasis on apostolic succession and the role of tradition) took shape as a result of its struggle against the esoteric (and sometimes laxist) tendencies of Gnostic mysticism, on theone hand, and the rigorist tenets of Montanist spiritualism, on the other (to name two of the more prominent examples). Historians point to the church's institu-tionalization of the Spirit in the office of the episcopacy and its subsequent control of the sacramental life of the Christian faith-ful as the predominant means by which, down through the cen-turies, it has safeguarded itself from similar threats. One of the unfortunate by-products of this process of insti-tutionalization was the gradual marginalization of the Spirit from the inner workings of Catholic theological reflection. As the mag-isterium became more and more centralized, it consolidated its hold over what it considered the "authentic" utterings of the Spirit and helped to create an atmosphere in which theologians were constrained to pursue their goals within increasingly limited notions of rationality. The gradual shift in Western hermeneuti-cal thought from allegory to syllogism to induction gives evi-dence to this effect, as does the roughly parallel movement in rational theory from analogy to univocity to equivocation. By most counts, this momentous restructuring of the rational pro-cesses of Western thought was as much a function of rising mag-isterial control of the sacred as of an ever changing philosophical terrain (as witnessed in the successive preeminence of Neoplatonic, Aristotelian, and Nominalist thought patterns). Localizing spiritual authority in ecclesiastical institutions, in other words, had the unforeseen .effect of gradually .disassociating ratio-nal discourse from its roots in the intuitive dimension of human existence, that side of human nature most likely to sustain a close experiential rapport with the Spirit. To speak in broad historical terms, the "despiritualization" of human reason had barely begun in the patristic and monastic traditions of late antiquity and the early Middle Ages (when the centralization of ecclesiastical power was hardly underway in Rome), had made recognizable progress during the early Scholastic period (near the time of the Gregorian Review for Religious Reform and the Investiture crisis), was in full swing with the rise of Nominalism in the early 14th century (not long after Boniface VIII's proclamation of Unam sanctam in 1302), and had reached its highest stage of development during the Age of the Enlightenment (just before Vatican Council I's proclamation of papal infallibility). Putting aside the more difficult task of discerning which histor-ical progression was influenced by which, and recognizing the probability of a circular relationship between the two (as well as the likely involvement of other discernible historical factors), one cannot help wondering if the present-day postmodern disillu-sionment with human reason--itself a reaction against the failed hopes of Reason's .coming of age--will herald an attempt to retrieve reason's lost association with the spiritual. If so, one would also have to wonder if the present tendency in the governing structures of Roman Catholicism toward increased centralization is nothing more than a momentary stay in a larger process of decentralization, the forces of which were at work long before the opening of Vatican II and will probably continue. An Anthropological Turn t Such a retrieval or "reinvestment" of reason's ties with "things spiritual" must proceed from the ins'~ghts of a sound Christian anthropology. In the present circumstances, the Pauline body/soul/spirit arrangement as formulated in 1 Thessalonians 5:23 proves especially helpful: "May the God of peace himself sanctify you wholly; and may your ~spirit and soul and' body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." Here Paul provides an anthropology that construes the human person as a union of three distinct (albeit intimately related) ele-ments: body (soma), soul (psyche), and spirit (pneuma). These ele-ments exist together in the human person and cannot be isolated one from another (as if a human body can be separated from the soul and spirit and still be examined intact). So closely are they related, in fact, that one cannot speak of spirit outside the context of soul and body, and vice versa. Since Paul proposes these anthro-pological terms while addressing the community of believers in the church at Thessalonica, care must be taken not to isolate his understanding of human existence from either its inherent social context or the life of faith. Account must also be taken of the fact that, although he insists on their intimate union in the human m Noventber-Decentber 1998 Billy * A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology person, he actually says precious little about how body, soul, and spirit relate to one another in the concrete circumstances of daily living. Given these significant contextual details (or lack thereof), the following claims appear generally continuous with the main lines of Paul's anthropological vision and offer correctives to pres-ent- day exaggerated emphasis on the rational. (1) In addition to body and soul, a person can also experience his or her spirit. ,(2) A retrieval or "'reinvestment " of reason's ties with "things spiritual" must proceed from the insights of a sound Christian anthropo!ogy. The mutual relationship between body. and soul suggests a similar rapport between soul and spirit. (3) The spirit touches ~he body through the medidtion of the soul.~(4) Generally speak-. ing, the Holy Spirit touches an individual by communicating its grace first to a person's spirit and then through the .spirit to the person.'s soul and body. (5) God and the human person can enjoy a close interpersonal rapport by.virtue of their communing spirits. (6)People relate to one another on the level of body. soul, and spirit. (7) The Spirit unites the Body of Christ, the church, not only theologically (that is, to God), but also anthropologically (that is, among its members). (8) It does so primarily on the .level of human spirit and only secondarily on the other dimensions of human existence. Elicited from the Paulin4 anthropology of 1 Thessaloni~ns 5:23, these anthropological claims provide the parameters by which a discussion abo,ut reason's "spiritual renewal" may pro-deed. Key to this discussion is the need for all theologians (and moral theologians in particular) to recognize the competence (and the limits) of reason's rule. Just as reason extends to the body through its ordering of the passions (and is thereby "enfleshed"), so the spirit extends to the soul (the seat of the rational faculty) by means of its quiet in.tuiting presence. Clearly, both movements have moral significance that must be taken into account for the future of moral theology. The Criteria of Reason's Spiritual Rebirth What,might such limits be? Without exhausting the possi-bilities, the following list provides some guidelines for discerning Review for Religious the genuine ways in which reason and spirit mutually influence one another. 1. An anthropological relationship of circularity exists between spirit and reason; that is, the insights of one complement the scope and competence of the other in such a way that, when taken together, their interaction generates a field of understanding unique to themselves and which neither would be fully capable of penetrating on its own. Spirit .brings intuition and moments of keen insight to the movement of discursive thought; reason artic-ulates through language something of the inexpressible utterings of the human spirit. Authentic theological reflection taps into this relationship of circularity and allows it to open up for each succeeding generation the meaning of the symbols of the Christian faith, ~. 2. The spirit influences the mind through prayer, and vice versa. When a person.'s spirit communes with God's Spirit, there is a natural reverberation (however slight) in the other, anthro-pological dimensions of human existence. This subtle influence, which will become a veritable overflowing (redundantia) in the beatific vision, strengthens the transcendent orientation of an individual's rational operation. A "spiritua!" person tends to Con-centrate on holy things and seeks to view all things with th'e mind of God. The person?s prayer (contemplative prayer in particular) plays a transforming rather than merely ancillary role in reason's spiritual homecoming, 3. The human spirit is not "irrational," but "supranational." It does not ask reason to go against its own internal principles, but seeks continually to broaden reason's, scope by providing intu-itions that challenge previously unquestioned (and possibly falla-cious) arguments. When reason is in tune with wholesome human spirit (and even more so whefiit is in touch with God's Spirit), it is. constantly prompted to reach beyond itself and to stretch the boundaries within which it normally functions. This extended x~ange is a welcome corrective to that narrowing univocity which nowadays often masquerades as the sole legitimate face of ratio-nal inquiry. ~ 4. Theologians who reintegrate spirit and reason demonstrate a guarded yet profound respect for church authority. The gradual marginalization of spirit from the center of theological reflec-tion, which came at least in part as a result of magisterial cen-tralization and control of the sacred, does not mean that a November-December 1998 Billy ¯ A~'Spiritual Turn"for Catholic Moral TheoloKF .--7- 600 "respiritualized" reason will ignore or, worse, openly disdain the valuable hermeneutical role the magisterium has played in the history of the Catholic tradition. On the contrary, a reintegra-tion of spirit and reason should bring about an even closer work-ing relationship between theologians (in. their concern for reasoned clarity and the e.xploration of' the faith) and the magis-terium (in its concern for the preservation and purity of the faith). While neither will always agree with the other, a close working relationship between them will provide helpful correctives against the extremes of overrationalization and pseudo-mysticism that can all too often get in the way of and even obscure sound theo-logical reflection. 5. A closer working rapport between spirit anal reason will require a reintegrated understanding of the various theological disciplines, especially dogmatic, moral, and spiritual theology. The unfortunate breakup of theology in recent centuries into sep-arate and highly specialized disciplines can itself be understood as a symptom of reason's ongoing despir, itualization. A renewed or "respiritualized" understanding of reason will operate success-fully only in a context ~at seeks to preserve the unity of theology in the midst of its highly specialized and sometimes .seemingly disconnected parts. 6. Renewing reason's link with the spirit will also move a per-son's sense of vocation to the center of theological reflection. No longer will theology, be construed as something existing "in the abstract," as if proceeding outside the theologian's own personal and communal faith experience. Any presentation and consequent systematization of the symbols~of the faith will be valid only to the extent that it remains faithful to and. authentically expresses the deepest sense of a,person's call in life before God through the church and in the world. One's reflection on God, in other words. must tak~ place in the context of one's sense of self in the presence of God and the community of believers. 7. The reason/spirit relationship sheds greater ligh~ on the importance of there being a continuity between theologians' pro-fessional work and their moral behavior. Sound theological reflec-tion stems from a stable interplay between spirit and reason. It reflects the contours of individuals' calls from God in this life and reaches its fullest expression when it is enfleshed in the con-crete circumstance~ of their daily existence. This cannot happen, however, if reason is deprived of all access to the nourishing roots Review for Religious of the spirit, where the human person communes with the Spirit of God through a grace that is freely given and freely received. Sound theological reflection challenges the theologian to int~- grate reason and spirit, theological discourse and personal sanc-tity. The church needs theologians who want to be saints, who admit this desire without false humility, and who bring this desire to the forefront of their theological inquiry. 8. Finally, a reintegration of spirit and reason would sustain within theological reflection a healthy tension between "theol-ogy as science" and "theology as art." Reason's desire to ver-ify corfipl~ments the spirit's yearning for m3?stery, and vice versa. Together they provide useful correctives to the ten-dencies of overrationalization and exaggerated rhetoric, which lessen theology's scope by seekings to turn it into something it is not and should not be, Theology is more than science and mole than art, It Future moral,theological discussion will have to develop a greater sensitivity to the ethical content of humanity's symbolic xpressions. is science and.art, a rare "field-encompassing" discipline which touches all areas of human knowl-edge in its attempt to convey the meaning of the Christian faith to each successive generation.1 By preserving this tension, theo-logical reflection retains a ~.ay of expressing the faith ever anew yet always ina~cord with th~ church's theological tradition. New and creative insights emerge from the tradition precisely in this way, .thereby allowing it to expand its theologic.al horizons and to move 'forward. Implications for Moral Theology The above criteria represent just some of the ways in which a deeper understanding of the relationship between spirit and reason would change ~he way in which theology itself is conceived and carried out. As one might expect, they have very concrete implications for the future of moral theology. 1. Moral theology would be challenged to break out of its hylomorphic rendering of the human (that is, moral) act that has "get the parameters for serious discussion within the Catholic tra- Noventber-December 1998 Billy ¯ A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral TbeoloKF ~dition since the time of Aquinas. A human action is more than just an expre~ssion of body (as the object of the external action) and mind (as the internal movement of deliberated will). Greater sen-sitivity mu~t be given in futur, e moral-theological reflection to the influence which a person's spirit brings to moral action. A good place to begin would be to apply the insights of Aquir~as's teaching on grace (which, intere~stingly, he considers under the New Law at the end of his treatment of the fundamental princi-ples of morality, that is, Summa tbeologiae, I-lI, qq. 109-114, to the Pauline rendering of 'human anthropology as body (soma), soul (psyche), and spirit (pneuma). 2. Eor ~this to occur, a shift must take place in the under-standing of the nature and role of rationality in current moral-the-ologiEal reflection. In its attempt in recent years to model itself after the empirical and social sciences, theology in general (and moral theology in particular) has adopted a univocal understand-ing of rational inquiry that prevents a balanced interplay of rea-son and spirit from entering into the legitimate bounds of serious theological refledtion. The result has been an unfortunate nar-rowing (some would say "impoverishment") of theology's rightful scope. The current deadlock in the deontologist/proportionalist discussion is but one symptom of this reductive theological under-taking. 3. Since the spirit expresses itself more .through images than in the "clear and distinct" ideas of rational discoul:se, future moral~ theological discussion will have to .develop a greater, sensitivity to the ethical content of humanity's symbolic expressions. To modify Aristotle's definition: Man is not just a rational but also:a symbolic animal. In developing this sensitivity, moral theology will draw closer to the arts than ever before (at least within recent memory) and begin to effect a transformation of the genres and literary style in which it expresses itself. It will also spark a renewed interest in the ethical Content of the images and sym-bols found in the Scriptures and the church's liturgy. 4. Future moral-theological discussion will develop close ties with the three levels of Christian spirituality: (1) the experien-tial, (2) the sapiential, and (3) the analytical.2 Ethical kngwledge will be understood as something to be-garnered from the whole of human experience (that is, throughout the body/soul/spirit continuum) with special emphasis given to the social .aspects of human moral-spiritu.a! discourse and to the role of prayer and~ Review for Relig4ous discernment in moral decision making. This heightened awareness Of the spiritual aspects of its theological heritage will give moral theology a deeper awareness of its own most distinctive traits and enable it to make serious contributions in discussions with other ethical traditions. 5. Given its decision to approach moral knowledge through a reintegrated understanding of the rapport between spirit and rea-son, Catholic moral theology would do best to enter into future dialogue with other ethical traditions--be they philosophical or theological--not by seeking a least common methodological denominator (usually fully acceptable to neither side), but by maintaining without compromise its position on the close anthro-pological (and hence ethical) connection between human reason and human spirit. It is precisely on this level that an answer to the question of the existence of an autonomous Christian ethics will be found. An I~tegral U, nity, a Spiritual Turn" No longer can the Christian life be artificially divided into the way of the law and the way of ~erfection. Precept and coun-sel, .commandment and beatitude, virtue and gift are,all bound together in an integral, inseparable unity. If moral theology is to give more emphasis to the role of the Holy Spirit (as H~iring sug-gests), it must first retrieve' its lost ti~ with the inner movements of the human spirit--the place within the person where the divine and human meet. Only by including th~s neglected anthropolog-ical dimension in moral-theo!ogical reflection will the human perspective of those concerned be broad enough to allow foFa proper discerfiment of the divine. The future orientation of Catholic moral theology will depend to a large degree on how its spokesmen, both magisterial and pro-fessorial, construe (or perhaps "reconstrue") the relationship between rationality and spirituality. Reintegrating these key aspects of the tradition would have two important theological and institutional effects. On the one hand, moral decision making would evidence a notable swing toward prayer and spiritual dis-cernment in helping to solve the dilemmas of conscience that arise among the faithful. This marked "spiritual turn" would move Catholic moral theology away from its present fascination with the problem-solving machinations of quandary ethics to a relational November~December 1998 Billy ¯ A "Spiritual'Turn"for Catholic Moral Theology paradigm rooted in the divine-human encounter. Bishops and theologians, on the other hand. would move away from their all too often adversarial positions to a more collaborative, mutually supportive stance. The changed dynamics would show the impor-tance of rooting moral-theological reflection in the fullness of human experience (that is, body, soul, and spirit) while at the same time highlighting the complementary ways in which the magis-terium and church theologians elucidate the tradition. What is the future of moral theology? The answer to this question is as elusive as time itself. For the moment, let it simply be said that, while the moral theology of the~future will invariably include many things, it cannot afford to exclude or marginalize "the life of the Spirit." In the present context the latter phrase refers to rational theological reflection rooted in a profound awareness of the human spirit as it opens itself up to God's Spirit and allows the word of God to take shape and utter itself, however softly, within the cor~fines of the limited words and deeds by which ¯ we construct our human exp, erience. Such a word, however spo-ken, would resonate with authority and not return in vain. Notes t The notion of a "field-encompassing" discipline comes from Van A. Harvey, The Historian and the Believer: The Morality° of Historical Knowledge and Christian Belief(Philadelphia: Westminister Press, 1966), pp. 81-82. A similar application to spirituality appears in Sandra M. Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 692. 2 These levels of spirituality are developed under a slightly different nomenclature in Walter H. Principe, "Toward Defining Spirituality," Studies in Religion/Sciences religieuses 12 (1983): 135-136. See also The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality, ed. Michael Downey (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), s.v. "Spirituality, Christian,", by Walter H. Principe. Review for Religious REGIS J. ARMSTRONG Consecrated Life: Anointed with Joy A passage once "noted with pleasure" by the New York Times Book Review was one by Albert Camus, whose writings express a strong current ofthe, pessimism in EuroPe in the wake of.World War II. It contains these words: "One of the temptations of the artist is to believe himself solitary. But this is not true. He stands in the midst of all, in the same rank,' neither highe~ nor lower, with all those who are working and struggling. His very vocation is. to give a voice to the sorrows and the joys of all."~ . Artists whose vocation is "to give a voice to the sor-rows and joys of all"--this could well be a description of consecrated persons standing with "all those who are working and struggling." It is a description of people called to identify deeply with the mission of Jesus, who came among us and stood in. the midst of all,,.giving voice to their sorrows and joys. How does one assume the stance of "artist" of some-thing so elusive, inexpressible, paradoxical, and fragile? To become such an artist demands entering into the pathos of life and experiencing compassion deeply, that is, as com-passio, suffering or feeling deeply with another. How does one give voice to joy at all? "Silence is the perfectest her-ald of joy," Shakespeare's Claudio says wisely in Much Ado Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap presented this paper (here some-what revised) at the annual conference of vicars of religious held in San Antonio in March 1998. His address is St. Fidelis Friary; 7790 Country Road 153; Interlake6, New York 14847. consecrated life November-Decentber 1998 Armstrong * Consecrated Life About Nothing.2 Joy, thenl is perhaps best ex~pressed transparently, whether one's focus on so paradoxically universal and personal a subject be psychological, sociological, cultural, philosophical, the- 916gical, spiritual, or liturgical. Perspectives From a biblical perspective'~ joy is an incredibly rich theme. In the Old Testament, profound joy is the chosen people's response to Yahweh's redemptive presence or, in the lager tradition, to Yahweh's ever present hesed or lovi'ng mercy. Various forms of the word joy appear in the Old Testament well over a hundred times, giving an inkling or anticipation of the New Testament, of Mary's proclamation of joy in "God my Savior'; and Paul's dramatic exhortation to the Philippians "Rejoice in the Lord always." Over and over agaifi Luke colors his Gospel and Acts with joy:'"To the poor he proclaimed the good news of salvation . and to those in sorrow, joy." If Yahweh is the supreme joy and the greatest delight for the pegple of the Old Testament, the self-giving of God in Christ provides those of the New Testament an essential quality of life, joy. The Holy One of Israel is now incarnate in the person of Jesus: the unfathomable, ineffable joy at the heart of God is now tangible. The Dictionnaire de Spiritualit~ Asc~tique et Mystique offers a variety of perspectives from which to reflect on joy. In its entry on joie, the reader can find, in addition to biblical considerations, summaries of the different theologies.3 There are considerations ' of people such as the early theological giants Origen .and Augustine, the. medieval mystics Bernard of Clairvaux and Francis of Assisi, and the much later doctors of the church Francis' de Sales and Thdr~se Of the Child' Jesus. Each of these writers, the author maintains, offers a different interpretation of the same reality. For Origen, knowledge of the gospel was a source of joy, a joy epitomized in the reaction of the aged Simeon when hd had the Infant in his arms.4 Augustine found joy in the Lord's ever-for-giving mercy, but saw its fullness in the eternal bliss of heaven;5 while Bernard repeatedly disEovered it in God's love.6 Francis of Assisi sang its praises in' hiE descrip.tioia of True Joy,7 and Francis de Sales urged his audienc~ to find joy by putting aside the plea-sures of this world and focusing on those of heaven,s Thdr~se wallowed in the joy of faith when her Beloved seemed most Review for Religious absent,9 From that vantage point alone, Franqois Bussini, author of the Dictionnaire's study, offers a variety of rich ways of study-ing joy, that is, through, the different traditions of,spirituality that provide insights into the meaning and gift of joy. ~' Gaudete in Domino Bussini might easily have added one significant name to his list of "theologians of joy": Paul VI, the author of the first papal doc-ument on the mystery of Christian joy, Gaudete in Domino, 9 May 1975., From his days as cardinal archbishop of Milan to the address of hi~ very last audience on 2 August 1967; four days before his death, joy was a leitmotif of his, a theme to which he continually returried. He offered an insight into the reason for this when he rhetorically asked the people of Milan:: "Have you ever met a saint? And, if you have, tell me: What is the characteristic you found in that soul?" His response to those questions suggests how closely he associated joy with~ the pursuit of happiness: "It will be joy [that you have found], a happiness so tranquil, so pro-found, so simple, but so true. And it is this transparency of joy that makes us declare: That is truly a good soul, because he has joy in his heart.''1° It is not surprising that as pope he took the opportunity to write a major statement on the Christian pursuit of joy. In addition to being an exhortation to pr~y for tile gift of joy, Gaudete in Domino expre~ssed in the mid- 1970s the pope's firm belief that peoples throughout the world desperately desired this "fragile and threatened" gift. ¯ Paul VI introduced his apostolic exhortatiori with a simple description of the need for joy in the contemporary ~orld (GD §1) and con'cluded with three others describing the cry of humanity, especially of the young, for the gift of joy. "We should be atten-tive to the appeal tliat rises from the hearts of humanity," Paul exhorts, "from the age of wondering childhood to serene old age, as a presentiment of the divine mystery" (GD §1). From this atten-tiveness or focusing on the joys of our hearts, Paul discovers an While never losing sight of the fact that joy is a ~timension of human life, Paul Vl found that the mystery of the Incarnate Word transformed its meaning. November-December 1998 Armstrong ¯ Consecrated Life energy and enthusiasm to share the reason for our joy with oth-ers. "In no way," he says, "can [joy] encourage the person ~vho enjoys it to have an attitudd of p.reoccupoation with self. [It] is the result of a human-divine communion, one that aspires to a com-munion ever more universal." In retrospect, Gaudete in Domino provided an insight into the call of Evangelii nuntiandi issued seven months later, which many. consider the Magna Carta of Paul VI'S papacy. There he dramatically exhorted all Christians, and espe-cially religious: "The privileged means of effective, evangeliza-tion" is to proclaim with joy "the joyful news of the fulfillment of the promises of the covenant offered by God" (EN §§69 and 6)~ At the core of the seven brief chapters of Gaudete in Domino, written in his elegant poetic style, Paul sketched the biblical foun. dations of both the Old and New Testaments and the enduring heritage bf Christian joy found in the lives of the saints. The pope may well have had Bussini's article before him,.-especially as he reflected on those saints who expressed joy in their lives and writ-ings. But it is striking how, in addition to Francis of Assisi and Th&~se of L!sieux, Paul draws special attention to the joy of the Conventual Franciscan Maximilian K01be, whom he had canon-ized a few years earlier: "His interior peace, serenity, and joy somehow transformed the place of suffering [Auschwitz]--which was usually like an image of hell--into the antechamber of eter-nal life, both for his unfortunate companions and for himself" (GD §4). While never losing sight of the fact that joy is a dimension of human life, Paul vI found that the,mystery of the,Incarnate Word transformed its meaning: Jesus himself knew, appreciated, and celebrated a whole range of human joys. More wonderfully, how-ever, Jesus revealed the s'ecret.of the unfathomable joy of.the "secret life of the Trinity," that is, the joy of living in God's l~ve (GD §3). "The ~ather is seen here," Paul teaches, "as the one who gives himself to the. Son, without reserve and without ceas-ing, in a burst of joyful generosity, and the Son is seen as he who gives himself in the same way to the Father, in a burst of joyful gratitude, in the Holy Spirit" (GD §3). The joy revealed by Jesus of Nazareth, then, "is the reverberation in human consciousness of the love that he has always known as God in the bosom of the Father" (GD §3). As the Incarnate Son of God, Jesus revealed a new, infinite dimension of joy, one that makes the human soul restless and ever eager to partake of its fullness. "In essence," Review for Religious t Paul e~iplains, "Christian joy is the spiritual sharing in the unfath-omable joy, both divine and human, which is in the heart of Jesus Christ glorified" (GD §2). But, more ~than reflecting on the rev-elatory dimension of Jesus' joy, the pope accentuates its paschal dimension as he underscores that by his death and resurrection Jesus poured the Spirit into the hearts of believers. "The Spirit, who proceeds from the Father and the Son and is their mutual love, is henceforth communicated to the people of the New Covenant and to each soul ready for his secret action. Together with him the human heart is inhabited by the Father and the Son" (GD §3). This, then, is experience of a joy that is truly spiritual, the fruit of the Spirit's presence and a characteristic of fill Christian virtue (see GD §3). Shortly before his death Paul VI shared with John Magee, his secretary, "the secret of my spirituality": .I have to recognize God the Father's action in his Son in my regard. Once I acknowledge that God can work in me through his Son, he gives me grace, the grace of baptism. After the grace of being reborn to God's life, my life becomes a tension of love with God drawing me to him-self. Always, in all of us, there is this tension betwe.en my mise-ria and God's misericordia. The whole spiritual life of every one of us lies between these two poles. If I open myself to the action of God and the Holy Spirit and4et them do with me what they will, then my tension becomes ioyous and feel within myself a great desire to come to him and receive his mercy; more than ever I recognize the need to be for-given, to receive the gift of rnercy,l~ This passage offers a m~arvelous insight~in,to'Paul's preoccupa-tion with the gift of Christian joy. That "tension of love" that stretched or expanded his entire life and made him continually aware of his sinfulness and the overwhelming love of God became joyous and made him ever more desirous to possess the joy of God's presence. Evangelica testificatio, Paul VI's apostolic exhortation on the renewal of the religious life, was significant in this regard. It expresses his conviction that the joy radiating from religious com-munities would be proof of the validity Of religious life. Joy, he maintained, would be "proof to everyone that the state of life which [religious] have chosen is h~lping [them] to realize the greatest possible expansion of [their] life in Christ." Moreover, November-Decentber 1998 Armstrong ¯ Consecrated Life it would be a magnet attracting the young to understand the appeal of Jesus, and be "the most effective invitation to embrace ttie religious life" (ET §55). Vita Consecrata Twen~ty-one years later John Paul II published his postsyn-odal apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata. Curiously, Vita conse-crata contains only scattered references to joy, fourteen in all. There are certainly echoes of Paul VI's Evangelica testificatio in phrases such as "the joyful witness [of consecrated life] to [God's] loving concern for every human being" (VC §16). Unlike Paul vI, however, John Paul II seems more concerned with the dwelling on the foundations of consecrated life. He only touches on the joy that the consecrated life brings through monasticism (VC §§6, 2.7), virginity (VC §7), and common life (VC §51), rather than off the dynamics of a spirituality of joy. Does .this mean that Vita con-secrata does not assist us in understanding consecrated life as being anointed with joy? No, but Michael Novak's observatior~ into the thought of John Paul II is apropos. The pope, Novak claims, is an artist at home in the world of the intellectual as well as in.that of the poet. To understand these dimensions of his thought, it is important to remember that he is a phenomenologist. "Simply put," Novak maintains, phenomenology is a sustained effort to bring back into phi-losophy everyday things, concrete wholes, the basic expe-riences of life as they come to us. It wishes to recapture ~those quotidian realities from the empiricists, on the one hand, who analyze them into sense data, impressions, chem-ical compositions, neural reactions, etc., and from the ide-alists, on the other hand, who break them 6p into ideal types, categories,and forms.12 -.To understand his thought, then, demands being attentive to both his language and the underpinnings of his thought. In addressing religious communities and consecrated persons "in the introduction to Vita consecrata, the pope writes of the "dif-ficult and trying period" .and of the "time of tension and struggle" in which they live. By referring to,Acts 15:31, he expresses his hope that consecrated women and men will receive the document as 'the Christians of Antioch did; by being joyful at the hope and encouragemen't which it gives. Immediate!y, however, he turns Review for Religious his attention to the entire people of'God and expresses his hope that the document will increase their joy as they become more aware of the consecrated life and, as a result, "thank almighty God for this great gift [of consecrated life]" (VC §13). Does this mention of consecrated life as a "great gift" provide a hint at the underpinnings of John Paul's understanding of what it means to be "anointed with joy"? Even a superficial reading of ¼"ta consecrata reveals John Paul's view of the consecrated life and the evangelical counsels as gifts. This perspective undoubtedly flows from his per-ception of Vatican II's emphasis on the profound reality of ecclesial communion, "in which all gifts ¯ converge for the building up of the Body of Christ and for the church's mission in the world" (VC §4). Seventy-three times he writes in Vita conse-crata of the gifts of consecrated life, of the evan-gelical counsels, of the radical gift of self for love, of the gifts of consecrated communities that com-plement one another, and so on. From John Paul's perspective, then, an awareness of the great gift of consecrated life, an awareness of being gifted; is a source of joy as well as a reason for thanksgiving". Thus Vita consecrata clearly offers an under-standing of conse, crated life that clearly supports seeing it as "anointed with j6y," for consecrated women and men have been gifted, have been sin-gled out as recipients of a special love tha~ brings joy. Fourteen times these gifts are specifically attributed to the Holy Spirit, a reminder that adds an extra note of joy~ Joy'flows from a conscious-ness of being loved--and thereby gifted. The joy of consecrated life flows from a consciousness of being '.'plunged into the fir~ of love which burns in them and which is none other than the Holy Spirit" (VC §26). It implies being gifted with an energy that pushes them beyond any joy this world offers. Like all joy, it leads to two things: a fuller.dove or union and a more profound eagerness or restlessness tha't this love be expressed and known. The joy of consecrated life demands, in the pope's words, that consecrated life "become one of the tangible seals which the Trinity impresses upon history, so that people can sense with longing the attrac-tion of divine beauty" (VC §20). From J~ohn Paul's perspective, then, an awareness of the great gift of consecrated life,. an awareness of being gifted, is a source of joy as well as a .reason for thanksgiving. Novetnber-Decen*ber 1998 Armstron~ ¯ Consecrated Life Were we to attempt a summary of John Paul's understanding of the consecrated life, we might choose this one sentence of Vita consecrata: "This special way of 'following Christ' expresses in a particularly vivid way the Trinitarian nature,of the Christian life and anticipates in a certain way that eschatological fulfillment toward which the whole church is tending" (VC § 14). Expressing those two dimensions of consecrated life--the Trinitarian and the eschatological--seems to form for John Paul lI the challenges of consecrated life and the foundations for joy. To live that conse-crated life as anointed with joy implies doing the same: reflecting in a joyful way the inner life of God in which we are caught up and, at the same time, expressing our restless pursuit 'of the full-ness of joy that will be achieved only in heaven. Our contempo- "rary struggles in rethinking the role of consecrated life in the mystery of-the church suggest two fundamental questions. First, have we plumbed the depth of the gift of the Holy Spirit that ¯ consecrated life is? And, second, have we developed a passion for the ~onsecrated life that makes it "a daring adventure of love" driving us to "that eschatological fulfillment toward which the whole church is .tending.''13 Answering those two difficult ques-tions has not been an easy enterprise. The answers seem to be as elusive as the full meaning of "anointed with joy." The Trinitarian Nature of Consecrated Life The contemporary sensitivity to inclusive language has under-scored a fundamental problem of contemporary Christian spiri-. ,tuality, namely, the failure to pay adequate attention to its Trinitarian underpinnings.14 If this is the case, focusing on the joy inherent in consecrated life through the prism of the gift of the Holy Spirit, which demands reflecting on the Trinity, might bor-dernot on being risky, but on being reckless. Language becomes a mjnefield not only because of images, for example, masculine and feminine, but also because of the elusive, transparent, incon-spicuous nature of the Spirit itself. Wind, power, light--these are some of the poetic images used to express its presence. Never pointing to itself, the Spirit cries,out "Abba!" and "Jesus is Lord!" While it is our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ, the Spirit pos-sesses us and catches up our unique spirits as its own. Following the teaching of Augustine, medieval theologians remark that within the mystery of.the triune God there is an Review for Religqous energy or quality expressed in two words: esse ad, "to be to" or "to be for" the other.~5 The phrase is undoubtedly another way of expressing that God is love, but it implies that that love means being present to or for another. Richard 6f St. Victor and the relation-oriented theology of the 12th century paved the way for Bonaventure, who identifies the Holy Spirit as the nexus or the bond joining the Father and the Son, the power of mutually being to or for the other. The Spirit is the love with which the Father loves the Son and the Son loves the Father. Therefore, the Spirit brings to both Father and Son the fruit of its presence, joy. It makes them esse adl present, to and for one another. Bonaventure goes a step further. The Spirit, he maintains, is the love with which the Father and Son love us: It is that power of love or, as Paul vI describes it, that "tension of love" which draws us into the infinite love of the triune God. It is that which enables us to respond to that divine love with the same love. Being overwhelmed by and responding to love--that is the meaning of a graced or gifted life; It makes us restless for the perfectioh of love. It is that which lifts us above ourselves, challenges us to let go of everything and be filled with love. Of necessity it calls all J Christians to a mystical embrace'of God', one that flows from the knowledge that the gift of the Spirit sweeps those who are gifted into the very heart of God. As Thomas Merton writes in Life and Holiness, "To be a Christian is to be committed to a largely mys-tical life,., to live within the dimensions of a completely mys-tical revelation and communication of the divine being." 16 What this means, of course, is dependent on the mystery of the ~ncarnate Word, for he is the revelation of the triune God. What it means to be loved by God is dependent on our knowledge of h~ow Christ reveals he is loved. As John Paul II tells us, "In the countenance of Jesus, the 'image of the invisible God' (Col 1:15) and the reflection of the Father's glory (see Heb 1:3), we glimpse the depth of an eternal and infinite love which is at the root of OUl~ being" (VC ~ 18). What it means to respondto that"love depends on our awareness of the kenosis, the self-emptying of Jesus. It makes our struggle as Christians--and, more to the point, as con-seerated women and men--to be essentially this: being Christ-centered. Understandably, then, Vita consecrata speaks of those called to consecrated life as persons called to "let themselves be seized by this love [to the point of] abandoning everything" (VC §18). He speaks of them devoting themselves "with undivided 1-6-1"November-December 1998 Armstrong ¯ Consecrated Life heart" (VC §1), making a "choice of total ~elf-giving to God in Christ" (VC §2), and expressing themselves "in a radical gift of self for love of~the Lord Jesus Christ" (VC §§.3,.12). This becomes a never ending recognition of philokalia, or the love of the divine beauty revealed in Jesus, and a progressive following of the Spirit's lead,to conformity with Christ (see VC §19). E~chat~logical Dimensidn of the Consecr~ated Life This ~focus onthe revelation of God's love in.the person of Jesus, however, leads John Paul to the secon~d dimension of con7 secrated life: its eschatological charhcter. "It is the duty of,the consecrated life," he maintains, "to show that the incarnate Son of God is the eschatological goal toward which all things tend, the splendor before which every other light pales, :and the infinite beauty which ~alone can fully satisfy the human heart" (VC §16). Here. too the gift of the Spirit is of quintessential importance. It enables "new men and women;to recognize the appeal of such a demanding choice, . . . awakens .the desire to respond, fully, . . . and guides the growth of this desire" (VC §19). "By allowing them-selves to be guided by the Spirit on an endless journey of purifi-cation," the pope maint~ains, "they become, day by day, conformed to Christ, the prolongation in history of a special presence of the risen Lord" (VC §19). In Vita consecrata John Paul II speaks of the Holy Spirit ninety-five times. The Spirit of Vita consecrata is power unlimited (VC §25), ,works without ceasing (VC 921), continually animates (VC §25) and gives strength (VC §30), and shapes and molds the hearts of those who are called (VC §19). The work of the Spirit as it guides us on its purifying journey is clearly one of calling, us beyond ourselv~es and beyond our limited experience of God's love~ Although ¼"ta consecrata clearly expresses this traditional, oth-erworldly spirituality, the pope also sees that the ardent expecta-tions of those consecrated persons demand an expression in the world in which~they live. Since "here we have no lasting city" (Heb 13:14), their longing "expresses itself in work and mission through a spirit capable of giving rise in human society to effec-tive aspirations for justice, peace, sglidarity, and forgiveness" (VC~ §27). These are the ones who "bring.hope to their brothers and sisters who are often discouraged and pessimistic about the future, . . . ~ hope founde~ on God's promise con~tained in the revealed Review for Religious word: the history of humanity is moving toward 'a new heaven and a new earth'" (VC §27). The hope they have discovered in the mystery of God's love, in other words, makes them eager to encourage others. And so their eschatological spirituality calls for active and renewed involvement in programs of systemic social change that are sensitive to the signs of the times, to the prefer-ential option for the poor, and to the promotion of,justice (see VC, §§81, 82). "Eschatological expectation becomes mission," John Paul teaches, "so that the kingdom may become ever more fully established here and now" (VC §27). Above all, however, this eschatolog- ~ ical thrust is oriented toward the future, a theme the pope introduces fourteen times in his exhortation. "By their charisms," he states, "consecrated per- ,~ sons become signs of the Spirit point-ing to a new future enlightened by.faith and.by Christian hope" (.VC §27), Thus the gift of the Spirit:is always prompting (VC §§1, 19, 22, 25), guiding (VC §§19, 63), awakening desire (VC §19), and teaching the hearts of those who are ca!l.ed, ~for it is the "educator par excel-lence of those who are consecrated" (VC §60). The Spirit's role in shaping the~future of consecrated life is perhaps best captured in the phrase "the creative guidance," in a section that speaks of the future (V.C §63). The phrase is similar to another, "creative fidelity," found earlier in the. document where the pope invites consecrated women and men to propose anew and with courage the enterprising initiative, creativity, and holi-ness of their founders and foundresses in response to the signs of the times,emerging in today's world" (VC §37). The Spirit's creative energy, then, flows throughout ¼"taxonsecrata, as the pope sees it, fashioning new expressions of consecrated life (VC §§ 10, 12), pointing to a new future (VC §27), and rejuvenating the Bride of Christ by the consecrated life (VC §64). "You haveonot only a glorious history to remember and recount," he declares, "but also a great history still to be accomplished" (VC §110). There is a built-in dynamic here. Rahner called it "The Dynamic Element in the Church" and suggested that it could very easily be a point of tension between the hierarchy and consecrated religious. Recent The Spirit's role in shaping the future of consecrated life is perhaps best captured in the phrase "the creative guidance.'" November-Decentber 1998 Armstrong * Consecrated Life history has shown us that it can easily be a point of tension among consecrated religious themselves, especially between the more traditional and the more creative brothers and sisters or between those without grounding .in the tradition, frequently older mem-bers, and those willing to "try anything" new without the tradi-tion's guidance. "Proposing anew the initiatives, creativity, and holiness of founders or foundresses" or developing "a dynamic fidelity to their mission" is easie'r said than done. Nevertheless, it is this very energy of the Spirit that John Paul II understands as revitalizing consecrated life and enabling new men and women to recognize its appeal. In this context, too, itis striking that John Paul writes of "the perennial youth of the church" and sees it integrally tied to "the new spiritual and apostolic impulses" of "new or renewed forms of the consecrated life" (VC §12). VChere is joy in all this? Perhaps it is found best in John Paul's image of "the perennial you. th of the church." No one could ques-tion the pope's concern for the young; his repeated meetings with and addresses to young people throughout the world are proof of that concern. The prerogative of the young, he frequently reit-erates, is to be concerned about the future, to dream about its unfolding, and to be excited about its shape. Is it not precisely in their dreaming and excitement that they find joy, a joy that is contagious and that enlivens even the more depressed? An echo of"ad Deum qui laetificat iuventutem meam" may be heard here, "to God who gives joy to my youth." As G.K. Chesterton observed, "The ~arpe diem religion is not the religign of happy people, but of very unhappy people. Great joy does not gather the rosebuds while it may; its eyes are fixed on the immortal rose which Dante saw. Great joy has in it the sense of immortality; the very splendor of youth is the sense that it has all space to stretch its legs in." 17 The pope's eschatological vision wisely notes the perennial youth that flows from the energy of the Spirit and keeps it ever young. With that alone comes joy! Tucked away among the more mystica! passages of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets is one that is appropriate here: "The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is Incarnation." 18 Eliot reminds his readers that the incarnation, is the only prism through which "to apprehend the point of intersection of the timeless with time ¯. something given and taken." A marvelous description of Con-secrated life! The Johannine tradition undoubtedly offers' the strongest Review for Religious :hints about the mystery of joy. The term chara, joy, occurs nine times in the Gospel of John and once each in the three Letters. Of all the references to joy in the Gospel, all but one are in the Last ~Supper discourse (15:17; 16:20-24; 17:13), where it is a future possibility opened up for Jesus' followers by his victorious death and th

Issue 65.4 of the Review for Religious, 2006. ; Searching Wisdom Apprediating the Word ¯ Living Chastely QUARTERLY 65.4 2006 '~ Review for-ReligiouS-fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one ~ ¯ ~another, about the holiness we try to live according . _ tO charisms of Catholic religious life. As~Pope Paul vlsaid~ 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. ©2006 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 tnust 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. eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff VVebmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Claire Boehmer ASC Stephen Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVO Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 65.4 2006 contents prisms 342 searching wisdom On Leaving Office Gracefully Kathleen Hughes RSCJ suggests a three-stage process that any leadership team might use or adapt in order to consider their years of service and come to closure on a privileged and grace-filled time in their lives. 354 Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship Thomas G. Casey SJ reflects on the importance of imitating Jesus by cultivating intelligence and nourishing wisdom, and suggests ways to go about it. Personal/Group Reflection Questions 365 appreciating the word ~ Andrew Ryder SCJ underlines the valuable Vatican II gift of the lectionary--the three-year cycle of Sunday readings, the two-year cycle of daily readings from the epistles and the Old Testament, and the one-year cycle of daily gospels--and its place in the tradition going back to Old Testament times. Review for Religious 375 Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation Brendan Kneale FSC reflects on the final four doctrines of the Apostles' Creed, developing the consolations that they entail for our deepest human concerns. Prayer Suggestion 382 God's Invitation Armand Nigro SJ has us listen to God's invitation to prayer. 384 living chastely Sexuality and Celibate Chasti.ty: Friends Not Foes Sefin D. Sammon FMS reviews the growth process in our understanding and appreciation of our sexuality and our celibate chastity in their mutual aim at union with God and others. Reflection and Discussion Questions 399 "Bride of Christ": Timely Sign in Signless Times? Annette M. Pelletier II-hVl examines how the signs, symbols, texts, and gestures in the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women" illuminates what it means to be a "bride of Christ." 414 "I Will Espouse You": The Religious Profession Ring Hildegard Magdalen Pleva OSSR explains the origin, history, and meaning of the,religious profession ring. departments 423 Scripture Scope: Reading the Gospel of Luke 427 Canonical Counsel: The Q.O.T. Principle 433 Book Reviews 445 2006 Indexes 339 prisms 340 Time is always with us. Sometimes we seem to have too much time, and we say that "it drags." Probably, more often, we claim that we have too little time, and we appear to be rushing around, just a little bit late for our next appointment. Although we don't ordinarily give much thought to it, there is another major difference about time. Some would see it as cyclic--what we allude to when we use the aphorism "What goes around comes around." Others would understand time as linear, like the flow of a river in whose same waters we can never step twice. Our Jewish-Catholic tradition has placed us peo-ple of faith solidly within the linear notion of time. We have but one life to live, all of its rela-tionships and its growth and its diminishment viewed within the prism of our own developing relationship with God. At first, it may appear that the church litur-gical year has opted for the cyclic model of time. With the celebration of the feast of Christ the King, we bring Ordinary Time to an end, and we begin again another liturgical year with the season of Advent, followed by Christmas, and eventually again the Lenten season, and so on. But as a time for personal growth, each season of the church year issues the call and challenge for us, not to repeat practices in a stimulus-response Review ~br Religion, s . sort of way, but to enter more responsibly and full-heart-edly into the daily mystery of a life with God. Just as we do not want to celebrate this Christmas with the exact same interior response that we had last Christmas, so, too, we do not want vow renewals, whether of marriage anniversaries or religious profession anniversaries, to be merely a repeat of where we were at that moment of the original ceremony. We have moved on, hopefully in the depth of our love and commitment. Only one thing is certain: we cannot remain exactly the same, since, in time, we are either moving forward--growing--or fall-ing back--diminishing or becoming less. Our use of time, then, needs to be regularly evalu-ated. At certain points within our daily lived experience, like the end of a project, the completion of a group activ-ity, a working together at an assigned task, we need to make an assessment. Every assessment follows basically the questions within the Ignatian daily examen. How has God been present to us within this time? How have we ignored or kept God from our ken? Have we grown in our relationship with God and with others through this time period? These questions are foundational as to our measurement of success or failure, how we have used our time, a precious gift of God to us. In the November time we remember the dead, those who have gone on before us. So, as we begin the new Advent and Christmas seasons, let us more eagerly look forward to meeting "in good time" our God of eternity. Time is God's gift of transport ever carrying us more quickly to our life with God forever--time without end. Our time now always needs its moments of celebration. Through the church year and through our workaday events, we take time to celebrate God's gifting. 341 David L. Fleming sJ 65.4 2006 KATHLEEN HUGHES searching wisdom On Leaving Office Gracefully Several weeks after five of us assumed positions of leadership in the United States Province of the Religious of the Sacred Heart, we each received a brochure for a workshop on "Transitioning Out of Leadership." We laughed a bit nervously, wondering how we got on that mailing list and who might be trying to tell us something! Six years later, however, we were ready for a pro-cess which would help us to leave office grace-fully, but soon we discovered that very little was available.~ While leadership transition has often been the subject of articles and workshops, gen-erally the focus is on identifying and equipping new leaders for the ministry which they have or will soon assume. The Leadership Conference of Women Religious of the United States, for example, annually offers an excellent seminar for new leaders whose goal is competence and skills in spiritual leadership, finance, canon and civil law, human development, and communica- Kathleen Hughes RSCJ was provincial of the Society of the Sacred Heart 1999-2005. Her address is Institute for Ecumenical and Cultural Research; P.O. Box 2000; Collegeville, Minnesota 56321. E-maih khughes@rscj.org Review for Religious tions. Team building is considered. Conflict resolution is explored. There is no shortage of articles, talks, seminars, and itinerant consultants, all of them promoting effective, even prophetic leadership within religious communities. One day, though, all that knowledge, all those skills, all the relationships which have developed, all the dis-cernment and decision~making and menial tasks that keep the machine well oiled stop abruptly. One day a ministry which has been all-consuming ends so suddenly that it could be likened to a trap door opening up and swallow-ing those above it. The former leaders get on planes or at least move across town, and the new leadership team move into their offices, probably freshly painted, with flowers on the desk. At the end of a leadership mandate there is both pres-sure and pride in leaving things in good order. Cleaning, sorting, and purging files takes time and the sound of shredding can be heard outside every office. The more important narrative and historic records are classified, labeled, and sent to the archives. Extraneous materials are eliminated from computers, especially all those e-mails that it once seemed so urgent to save. Leadership teams old and new meet together to discuss imminent concerns, financial realities, and personnel matters. Long-range planning, anniversaries pending, and events already on the calendar are noted. Members who are in transition in ministry, community, or for personal reasons are given special consideration. A final annual report is prepared, printed, and mailed. There is also the packing up and moving of each one's goods and paraphernalia, all the while wondering how so much accumulated. There is the physical move to a new community, quite possibly in a new city, the planning of a vacation or sabbatical, the reflection about a next min-istry, and the timing of it all. Finally there are the good- 6~.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully byes with their attendant lunches and dinners and the rituals of thanks which are particular to each leadership team. There is a lot to attend to in the final days. And because there is so much pressure at the end of a term to "leave the place in good shape," it is possible that the persons involved may not be in good shape at all or may walk away from office without ever actually leaving it. How do we prepare our own hearts for the handing over? Well before our term was up, we anticipated the need for a good process which would help us reflect on our years of service, imagine the future, and care for one another through the transition. This article will explore the three-stage process which we developed, a series of day-long conversations, spaced over many months, which helped us to hand over our work and come to closure on an important and grace-filled time in our lives. The first two "conversations" happened in the months before we left office; the final "conversation" happened six months later. 3441 Looking Back: Blessings and Bruises Much happens in the life of a community over a term or two in office. Sometimes experiences, events, and encounters are a source of great joy; at other times moments have been hurtful to those involved, however unintentional the pain. When leaving office it is impor-tant to look back at the blessings and the bruises in order to celebrate, to grieve, to repent, to forgive, and to give thanks--in about equal measure. It is often said that administrators spend ninety-five percent of their time on five percent of the people. Perhaps in religious life the percentages are a bit dif-ferent, but there is no doubt that much time and atten-tion are given over to people or situations of crisis. In the press of work in the day-to-day, it is possible to lose sight of the larger picture, the courageous growth, the Reviev~ for Religious fidelity to prayer, the simple generosity, the willingness to stay in dialogue during times of conflict, the healing that happens, the beauty and depth which conversations reveal, the opportunities to inspire and bless, the witness of long and faithful lives spent in service, the moments of insight, the risks taken and welcomed, all the tiny acts of kindness--all the blessings great and small that those in leadership experience happening in the membership and in themselves. The opportunity to serve in leadership is itself a great privilege and a blessing. The openness of the membership in speaking of their inner journey, their joys and their struggles, is deeply edifying. The amazing zeal for minis-try and witness for justice of some, the courageous battle with substance abuse of oth-ers, the struggle to under-stand what faith-filled living means in the midst of cul-tural and religious upheaval, the suffering borne with sweetness and peace, the courage in the midst of great personal darkness--each member, each story, each grace witnessed by those in leadership has been a blessing which changes them forever. In gathering the blessings of their years of leadership, the team rightly delight in their own a~complishments too: prayer fostered and deepened, initiatives begun, participation encouraged, staff strengthened, systems put in place, strides taken to assure financial solvency, and, above all, mission clarified, supported, and sustained. In addition, the unique contribution of each one on the leadership team to the work of the whole must be cel-ebrated. Members of a team are blessings to each other, especially in the darker times. Much happens in the life of a community over a term or two in office. 65.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully In looking back, there is also much to repent and to grieve about. Misunderstandings happen. We hurt each other by too hasty responses, by clumsy decisions unsea-soned by experience, by expectations which are too great or too small, by seeming indifference to suffering. We hurt each other by passing over gifts, by the triangula-tion of third-party conversations, by wielding authority in a sometimes autocratic manner. We hurt each other often more because of ignorance or lack of competence than negligence or malice--which does not make the pain any less. There is much to grieve about and to regret as lead-ers leave office, and much to learn in the letting go. A leadership team can help each other not to exaggerate bruises, to remind someone who feels deep regret that she did her best with the knowledge she had and, besides, that she can tease out of the situation some wisdom to use in the future. The team can remind one another that forgiveness and reconciliation do not happen because we will them but because time and grace make them pos-sible, perhaps long after the arbitrary date for a change of administration. Lines from Psalm 103 perfecdy capture the deepest real-ity: that the ministry of leadership is ultimately God's work. It is God who has blessed us and our community in so many ways; it is God who forgives and heals and makes whole when we have failed to be blessings for one another. My soul, bless the Lord, bless God's holy name! My soul, bless the Lord, hold dear all God's gifts! Bless God who forgives your sin and heals every illness, who snatches you from death and enfolds you with tender care, Review for Religqous who fills your life with richness and gives you an eagle's strength. Bless the Lord, ~ny soul.2 Looking Forward: Living Deliberately A second day-long conversation addresses the future with this question: How will I live my life differently because of these years of service? Leadership experi-ence cannot help but change those who serve. They have attended the school of life and love. They have been exposed to the best and the worst in human nature. In the process, convictions are formed about what constitutes holy healthy living. Before taking leave of service and of one's compan- - -- ions in leadership, talking together about newly formed convictions commits the speakers to embracing them as a way of life upon rejoining the general membership. Here are a few examples. Leaders may have developed a pattern of consistent common prayer which has sup-ported and sustained the team, built trust among them, helped them know and love each other in deep relation-ships, and, above all, convinced them that God is cen-tral to everything they do and every decision they take. Regular common prayer, in a word, has supported and sustained them in ministry. They know it is possible; they know it is necessary; they intend, in the communities they join, to negotiate ways of praying together in some con-sistent pattern. Leaders have had the privilege of seeing growth among the members. They have witnessed genuine con-version and new life, even among those who seemed to Leadership experience ;Cannot help but change those, who serve. 65.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully be mired in long-established patterns which had made many people give up on them. From the perspective of leadership, it is clear that "with God all things are pos-sible," and perhaps also with the love of others who bring people to new life. Giving people a chance to change and the space to let it happen in God's time becomes, then, a deliberate choice for the future. Another area of resolution may be in the way one decides, or not, to continue to take risks. Assuming lead-ership itself is a huge risk. Leadership candidates prob-ably asked themselves many questions before taking the leap of faith to congregational service: Do I have the gifts, the vision, the stamina, the public presence, even a thick enough skin? And what an amazing hundredfold is the return to those who accept service. Leaders may then decide to choose risk as a way of life, not settling down, not avoiding a new ministry or a move because it is too scary, not getting into set patterns which make them "stuck" where they are and less open to new possibili-ties, not anxiously calculating the competencies or energy needed for a new venture. "Risk as a way of life" implies that those who have completed leadership became secure in the "grace of office," that is, the promise of God's presence always, no matter the risk. No exceptions. Living deliberately in light of one's service may also include a commitment to participate actively in the life of the membership, responding to the initiatives of the new team, serving on committees and task forces, tuning in to teleconferences, sending a word of gratitude for work well done or a question or comment when solicited. A conversation about deliberate choices for the future is a way to capture the best insights of each team mem-ber after some years of sorting the wheat and the chaff of religious life. Here is a typical spill of intentions from such a conversation: Review for Religious. I will be grateful that others are willing to serve; I will try to participate attentively; I will be aware that there is always more to the story and at least as many sides as people involved; I will try to be simple and pare down; I will do my best, wherever I am, to make community happen; I will cherish relationships; I will remember that people appre-ciate a personal note of gratitude, congratulations, or condolence; I will try to be a healer; I may be "sadder and wiser," but I will draw on that wis-dom; I will be thoughtful and generous in using money; I will use my newly honed gifts and skills well; I will care for my health more intentionally; I will try to respect and validate the experience and insights of each one; I will be more attentive to the international dimension of the community; I will savor and delight in doing one thing at a time; I will do one "lovely thing" each day just for fun; I will wake up every day feeling responsible for a much smaller universe--my own! Such a conversation is wide and deep, and humorous too, and it moves the transition to a new phase. While a "bless-ings and bruises" conversation is a way of looking back and letting go, this second conversation about "living deliber-ately" moves a group beyond the mandate of leadership to imagining reintegration among the membership. Looking Within: Reflecting on the Present After a period of time out of office, a third conversa-tion makes the transition complete. On leaving community service the members of the leadership team choose their own ways of resting, recuperating~ and reorienting them-selves to "ordinary time." Even those individuals who con-tinue in leadership positions have a major transition and a lot of challenges, for a new configuration of members on i349 65.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully the leadership team supposes very different personalities, ways of making decisions, and styles of collaboration. Weeks immediately after passing leadership on can be vulnerable times. There may be a sense of loss at many different levels--relationships, security, even status. There may be endless time on Weeks immediately after passing leadership on, can be vulnerable times; one's hands and an inability to stop the engines which have been in overdrive for so long. There may be a loss of nerve, a questioning of one's gifts and compe-tencies and whether there is a ministry and/or a community where there is a fit. There may be relationships which need to be adjusted for greater mutuality. There are decisions about whether and how much to participate in the life of the community, particularly in order to give new leaders the freedom to blaze their own trail. On the other hand, one may feel passed over when not asked for a piece of wisdom that experience presumably taught. There may be the temptation to make comparisons, to judge new initiatives in the community before they have a chance to flourish, to think but never say aloud "That won't work. We tried that!" There may be the awkwardness of knowing too much along with a need to mourn no longer being part of the easy rapport of a team bound to confidentiality. Team members who have worked closely and intensely for a long time may delight in and greatly profit from an opportunity, perhaps six months after leaving office, to reunite for a day or a weekend. Each one, in turn, can reflect about the experience of the last few months and the challenges of transition, some of which only other for-mer team members can appreciate. Questions such as the l~eview for Religious following can prompt reflections which will be personal for each one and yet have some common elements: What has this transition been like? What has been the best part of moving out of leader-ship or, in the case of those who have continued to serve, what has been the best part of working with a brand new team? What has been challenging, for example, in ministry, community, prayer, recalibrating relationships, a different pace, not traveling, not knowing what is going on or, for someone who has joined the new team, knowing more than the rest of the team? What do I anticipate in the months ahead that may be important to name? Is there wisdom to share or to seek from the group? Where is God in all of this? Who is God in all of this? As each one speaks, others respond, question, affirm, and challenge, but mostly they listen with the ears of the heart and with the empathy borne of the deep bonds which close collaboration has forged. In the course of this conversation, the team is transformed into a group of friends whose support and affection will remain strong despite time and distance. The Importance of Ritual. There is a wonderful piece of wisdom in Herb Gardner's play A Thousand Clowns. One of the characters, Murray, says "You've got to know what day it is. You've got to own your days and name them, or else the years go right by, and none of them belongs to you.-3 Good ritual is what helps us "own our days and name them." Well-planned ritual brings to public expression the experience of the community and its members. All of the day-long conversations described above, for example, were framed 65.4 2006 Hughes * On Leaving Office Gracefully by ritual prayer, music, silence, breaking of bread, and blessing. How much more important it is to mark the transi-tion of leadership in the life of the whole community by a ritual adequate to the weight of the moment. Good preaching explores the Scriptures which have been cho-sen to illuminate the experience and the hopes of those gathered. The service of the outgoing leadership team is acknowledged with gratitude, and the future of each member is entrusted to God in prayer. The incoming leaders are blessed and publicly given the authority under the constitutions of the order for the exercise of their ministry. And the whole assembly commits itself to active participation in the governance of the community by say-ing its "Amen." Through strong ritual the leadership transition is accomplished. Transition is not just a private moment for the two teams involved, but an opportunity for all to deepen the bonds of their membership, to recom-mit themselves to their deepest call: The word "Amen" makes demands. When we express it at a time of leader-ship transition, we are making a series of promises: "Yes," we say, "so be it." "Yes, with God's help I will support and sustain this new leadership team with love and prayer." "And, yes, I accept my own responsibility, which I can-not surrender to others and which no one can take from me, of living the charism and mission of this community fully and actively." Thus is the community itself renewed in a grace-full transition. Notes ~ Two notable exceptions in the United States are "Transitioning from Leadership," a program offered by Lynn M. Levo CSJ through the Saint Luke Institute, Silver Spring, Maryland, and "Life after Elected Leadership: The Journey Continues," a workshop facilitated by Review for Religious Bette Moslander CSJ and Marcia Allen CSJ at Manna House of Prayer, Concordia, Kansas. 2 Psalm 103:1-5. The English translation is from the Liturgical Psalter; ©1994, International Commission on English in the Liturgy (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 1995). 3 Herb Gardner, "A Thousand Clowns," in The Collected Plays (New York: Applause, 2000). 4 Geographical distance need not be an obstacle. It is possible to have a teleconference on the day of the ceremony, uniting the "Amen" of far-flung members to the prayer of those physically present. Autumn Poppies Brilliant Resilient At end of summer California poppies On spindly stems Shine from shelter Of overhanging rock. Each morning they unfold. What ore produced such gold? Ore from the distant sun? Did that more distant One - The ever-near, Forge it here In the heart of the planet? Through the earth's opaqueness Malting Beauty visible Poppies like bright eyes Give us sight For the Invisible Mary Alban Bouchard CSJ 6~.4 2006 THOMAS G. CASEY Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship Tis is not an era for dumb disciples or witless .1. Christians. Hmnan beings are crying out for intel-ligence and wisdom. Certainly our world needs Christians who reach out in love to the poor, sharing material pos-sessions in lives of love. But it also needs Christians who lovingly share their intellectual gifts, their treasures of wisdom. Western culture suffers intellectual malnu-trition. It needs to supplement its diet with intelligent Christianity. With our intelligence we seek to know the truth about things. Wisdom takes intelligence a step further, for wis-dom is not book knowledge, but practical knowledge. Wisdom integrates knowledge into decision making and behavior. In order to attain wisdom, our lives need to focus on the good. Intelligence and Wisdom, Readiness and Ripeness In Hamlet and King Lear, William Shakespeare puts the words "readiness" and "ripeness" into the mouths of Thomas G. Casey SJ, from Ireland, is professor of philosophy at the Pontifical Gregorian University; Piazza della Pilotta, 4; 00187 Roma, Italy. Revie~ for Religious characters faced with death. Hamlet says "The readiness is all" (Act V, Sc. II). In Lea,; Edgar says, "Ripeness is all" (Act V, Sc. II). Readiness tends to be something active, something we produce through our own efforts. Ripeness is something organic, something that occurs according to its own rhythm, independently of our efforts. Unlike Shakespeare, I prefer to apply these phrases to life rather than death. I see readiness as our contribution to dis-cipleship through our intellects. Ripeness (maturation) is that wonderful moment when the fruit (peach or plum) is at its best, giving what it has received, even at the risk of falling. In the First Letter of Peter, a couple of verses deal explicitly with the spiritual ripeness and intellectual readiness of disciples. These verses are addressed to all Christians, including those facing opposition and ridicule. Peter warns that persecution is a real possibility: "Do not fear their intimidation, and do not be troubled, but sane-tify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always ready to give an answer to anyone who asks you the reason or your hope, yet with gentleness and reverence" (1 P 3:14-15). I see ripeness as related to spirituality and readiness as related to study. In order not to be intimidated by any sort of persecution, we need to "sanctify Christ," rever-ing him and acknowledging him as Lord of our lives. The spiritual is not simply first chronologically, but also first in importance. We must give God priority in our hearts. First comes communion with God and then communication with others. Indeed if we put God first, our lives will inevitably provoke questions from others. They will notice something different about us, and they will inquire about it. Peter seems to imply study. He says we must be ready to give an answer: In order to give an answer, we need to know the answer first. There is no way around the hard work of wrestling with texts and grappling with ideas. It is an answer about the hope in 65.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship our hearts, our trust that things will work out despite the difficulties, our conviction that there is more to life than our limited temporal existence--although we do not yet see what we hope for, we know it is possible and attain-able. The source of Christian hope is the goodness and love of God, Because Of God's faithful love, we know that the future is full of promise. Peter says we need to explain our faith "to anyone who asks." Different kinds of people will have different kinds of questions. Obviously those who are sympathetic to the hope in our hearts will be easier to answer. But it takes much more careful preparation to know what to say to skeptics and those downright hostile to our worldview. Peter does tell us how to answer: with gentleness and rever-ence. We are to present the truth in love. We do this, not to win arguments, but to win people. The strength of our convictions is to be communicated with tact and respect. Readiness and ripeness are vital, but ripeness has priority. Ripeness refers to who we are, to the gift of God that comes through communion with him, to grace. Communion with God gives unity to our intellectual powers. It is not the strength of our arguments that will win people over, but the quality of our lives, of our rela-tionship with Jesus. We need exemplars. We all benefit from the exam-ple of individuals who put their intelligence at the ser-vice of humanity, whose actions and deeds match their intellectual ideals, who sacrifice themselves for the ideas that claim their allegiance. Of course, we cannot all be geniuses. It is, however, usually not desirable to imitate a person of genius either. Without a spirituality, genius easily loses its way. Readiness without ripeness is not enough. Even a genius of goodwill faces particular challenges and hurdles. Persons of extraordinary intelligence are so Review for Religious used to excelling without effort that they easily forget that this does not apply in daily life. Despite outstand-ing grades they may fail in the task of living. Another problem that can plague persons of extraordinary intel-ligence is their very versatility. They may end up dissipat-ing their energies through taking on too many projects. They do not become outstanding intellectuals simply by having a huge number of ideas. They need to direct the energy of their lives. A hyperdeveloped mind allied to an underdeveloped spirit and heart leads to disequilibrium and worse. The greatest exemplar of a sterling mind integrated in a fully human life of spiritual depth is none other than Jesus. Christians associate Jesus with perfect holi-ness. Many regard him as the paragon of wisdom, but few automatically associ-ate him with intellec-tual brilliance. This failure to see Jesus as a genius is under-standable inasmuch as he did not become a world-renowned academic or found a university or write a seminal book. He apparently never committed his thoughts to paper, and on the only known occasion he did write (Jn 8:6), it was in sand. The best way to dispel any doubts about Jesus' extraor-dinary mind is to read the Gospels attentively. The proof of Jesus' intelligence is especially to be found in his capac-ity to offer humanity something of universal value and his ability to resolve the fundamental problems of human existence.~ But it is also manifest in many other ways. °.~t is not the strength of our arguments that will win people over, but the quality of our lives, of our relationship with Jesus. 65.4 2006 Casey * Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship Jesus did not !et his exceptional intellectual gifts lie idle, The Greatest Exemplar Since he Was not only fully human but also fully divine, Jesus had an amazing intellect to start with. Second, what-ever form his education took it enhanced his intellectual giftedness and impressed his contemporaries. Luke's brief words about the twelve-,,ear-old Jesus in the temple at Jerusalem (Lk 2:42-50) show him listening to the doctors and questioning them. The child intrigues and fascinates these learned men. In fact, he surpasses them. And it is not simply his intellect, formidable though it is, that holds them in thrall. It is the paradox of such prophetic wisdom on the lips of a mere child. Undoubtedly Jesus' mind found nourishment in his communion with the Father. Perhaps Mary spoke to the child Jesus of her own faith and recited Scripture to him. In other words, he may have hid a human teacher as well as a divine teacher. Jesus did not let his exceptional intellectual gifts lie idle. He cultivated them. According to Luke, he con-tinued to grow in wisdom (Lk 2:52). In other words, he grew in his ability to judge things rightly and to react appropriately. Thus he did not use his intellectual powers to accumulate useless facts or trivia. He saw the world truthfully and acted in accord with what he saw. Jesus' intensive prayer and fasting in the desert and the energy and zeal of his public ministry showed that his intellect was at the service of a noble cause. In order for genius to be productive, it must be impelled forward by guiding passion, by a strong motivating force, by the transfor-mative power of desire. Jesus was pressed forward by a consuming love. It was the drive to announce the Good Review for Religious News, to preach the reign of God, to free people from the slavery of sin. We think with our whole being and not just with our intellects. Without physical health and a reasonable level of emotional and moral equanimity, our ability to con-centrate properly, understand fully, and judge rightly is impeded. Since Jesus was without sin, his mind did not lose serenity. He never did wrong and never gave way to destructive emotional behavior. Thus his whole being supported the vision of his intellect. Jesus' way of thinking, as illustrated in the Gospels, displays a brilliant mind at work. Aristotle asserts in his Poetics and even more forcefully in his Rhetoric that the use of metaphors is a mark of great intelligence, some-thing that cannot be taught: "The most important thing is to be good at metaphor. This is the one thing that can-not be learned from someone else, and is a sign of natural talent; for the successful use of metaphors is a matter of perceiving similarities.''2 There is a tendency to think of metaphors as some-thing purely linguistic--a verbal ornamentation that is pretty, but apart from that, pretty ineffective. But a met-aphor such as "You are the salt of the earth" (Mr 5:13) is much more than a figure of speech. It challenges our taken-for-granted relationship with things, it uproots and dislocates us from our customary, understanding of ourselves. More than that, a metaphor enlarges and deepens our knowledge. We understand ourselves and our relatedness in a new way: "I am the vine and you are the branches" (Jn 15:5). Jesus' metaphors--salt, light, bread, sheep, and so on--take us beyond ourselves, toward transcendence. Even though they are made of sensible and tangible realities, they simultaneously lift us up into the realm of the spirit: "I am the bread of life" (In 6:35). Making connections .among disparate 65.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship 360[ realities, Jesus' metaphors put a fragmented world back together. In John's chapter 15, Jesus speaks of his Father's "house" and of its "many rooms." With the familiarity of these words, Jesus lifts the veil on the afterlife, bring-ing domesticity into the unlimited horizons of the infi-nite. While not denying the difference between earthly life and paradise, Jesus shows that there must be echoes and resemblances. Metaphors galvanize the imagination, inviting us to think differently, and even to act in ways that once seemed impossible. They are the best way, and possibly the sole way, of talking about what is new. They give the imagination liberating and productive space. But even when he is not using metaphors, Jesus helps people in their thinking and action. In the Beatitudes, Jesus proclaims unexpected joys, the kind to be found in the simplicity, tears, gentleness, mercy, purity, peace, and suffering of saints. He helps his hearers think deep thoughts by starting from what they know, from what is familiar to them. In Matthew's chapter 7 he talks of how earthly fathers would not dream of giving a stone to their sons asking for bread, or offering a snake when they ask for fish. After emphasizing this point, Jesus points out that God, being perfect, will be infinitely more likely to answer our requests than human fathers are. A wise person knows how and when to pose ques-tions. Jesus' questions often invite his hearers to recog-nize and follow desires they may not have realized they had. The first question Jesus asks in the Gospel of John is: "What do you desire?" (Jn 1:38). And a related ques-tion appears four Limes in the synoptic Gospels: "What do you want me to do for you?" (Mt 20:32, Mk 10:36 and 10:51, Lk 18:41). Jesus also has a strong logical mind. In Luke 13:10- 16, a synagogue ruler becomes indignant when Jesus heals Review for Religious a woman on the Sabbath. Although she has been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years, the synagogue leader is adamant that this healing should have been done on a working day. Jesus counters by pointing out that nobody has any scruples about untying their ox or donkey on the Sabbath and bringing it out to give it water. The beast has not been thirsty for eighteen years, and the woman, "a daughter of Abraham," has felt a greater thirst over the course of many Sabbaths. Jesus sees even a bigger picture than this. The central theme of Jesus' preaching, the kingdom of God (today one could perhaps say "the dream of God"), is already mysteri-ously present in all the small-scale events and happenings of our daily lives. Jesus intuitively grasps a grand meaning in the tiny mustard seed becoming a large shrub. The goal of human intelligence is to know the real, and to know God, the supreme truth. Intelligence tends toward the truth. The intelligence of Jesus is perfectly pitched to this goal, for he constantly proclaims the kingdom of God. His mind is con-stantly directed toward the revelation or manifes-tation of God. Although God's kingdom is already ~ breaking into the present,Jesus sees that its full realiza-tion is in the future. When the seventy disciples return from preaching, intoxicated with the success of their ven-ture, Jesus says that what should really give them cause to rejoice is the reality that their names are written in heaven (Lk 10:20). Jesus adapts his words to the various people he is dealing with. It is not that he changes the content of his The goal of human intelligence is to know the real, and to know God, ;the supreme truth. 3,61 65.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship 362' message, but that he pays attention to his interlocutors, and seeks to speak in a way that makes sense to them. He uses many agrarian images and metaphors because he spends so much time talking to people who live and work on the land. But when he is questioned by the Roman procurator Pilate before his crucifixion, Jesus speaks of authority and truth, issues that concern Pilate. Jesus is wise enough to know the limits of intelli-gence. When confronted by the powerful but demonic intelligence of Satan toward the end of his forty-day fast in the desert, Jesus knows that only God's word is strong enough to defeat the Adversary's clever arguments. And so the Word of God quotes from God's word, the Holy Scriptures, and defeats Satan. Ripening To become wise and intelligent disciples, we need to imitate Jesus--not external imitation, but conforming our minds and hearts to Jesus. From this interior mirroring, our external words and deeds will naturally reflect Jesus. A few years ago, the WWJD bracelet--"What would Jesus do?"--became a fad. Such a bracelet certainly points people in a helpful direction. But of ourselves we are not always capable of knowing what Jesus would do. The responses are not written on our wrists. The answers are to be found by meditating and pondering on what Jesus did in fact do. We have looked at some examples of his wisdom and intelligence in action. We need to meditate on such examples, pray over them. The full ripeness of Jesus' wisdom needs to be tasted and appreciated with our spiritual senses. There is a clue to how to do this in the Greek verb menein, frequent in John's Gospel and having a range of meanings: to stay, remain, dwell, abide, last, endure, live. This word applies in a special way to John, because Review for Religious John has great staying power: he stays by Jesus' side, the only one of the twelve present at the cross. It is no acci-dent that John is right next to Jesus at the Last Supper, because John is humanly and spiritually especially close to Jesus. John remains, John abides. To understand this word "remain" better, it helps to turn to the first chapter of John's Gospel. When Andrew and an unnamed disciple start to follow Jesus, he turns and asks them, "What do you want?" These are the first recorded words of Jesus in John's Gospel, in the form of a question, a question that is interested and inviting, pro-found and personal. The two disciples answer Jesus with another question. They ask, "Where do you dwell?" This is not just a geographical question but a deeper, more spiritual one. The disciples have just left John the Baptist. They want something lasting, something that endures, a center that can hold. Different forms of the verb menein appear in chapter 15 of John. Jesus is unraveling implications of the vine and the branches. Jesus points out that trying to improve ourselves and be morally perfect is not what is essential. What is essential is to be in a living relationship with God, to dwell with him, to stay with him, to love him. We do not need to worry about bearing fruit: he will take care of our fruitfulness. We surrender ourselves to him as Lord of our lives, and we stay with him in community with others. We move beyond intelligence to wisdom, beyond rules to love. Communion with Jesus adds ripeness to our readiness and gives our lives unsuspected fruit. Notes ~ This view of intelligence is broadly in line with the stance of the distinguished educational thinker Howard Gardner, well known for his theory of multiple intelligences. According to Gardner, intelligence has to involve some form of productivity, and thus high IQ is itself not suf-ficient. Gardner defines intelligence thus: "Intelligence is a biopsycho- 363 6~.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship logical potential to process information that can be activated in a cultural setting to solve problems or create products that are of value in a culture." Howard Gardner, Intelligence Refrained: Multiple Intelligences for the 21st Century (New York: Basic Books, 1999), p. 34. 2 Aristotle, Poetics, translated with an introduction and notes by Malcolm Heath (London: Penguin Books, 1996), p. 37. Personal/Group Reflection Questions 1. "We think with our whole being and not just with our intellects." (p. 359) From my experience, can I give some examples of this kind of thinking? 2. a) What is the evidence I seek when I describe a person as wise? b) If I were to describe Jesus as a wise person, what examples of his wisdom would I cite from the Gospels? 364 Review for Religious ANDREW RYDER The Bible and the Lectionary During my time as a parish priest in Scotland, I became friendly with the local Protestant min-ister. Our two churches were built opposite each other. One day I showed him the Catholic lec-tionary we used at Mass. He was most impressed, and even thought of using it himself. Instead of going for six months giving his congrega-tion a weekly commentary on the Letter to the Romans, he could use the Catholic lectionary's systematic arrangement of short texts from both the Old and New Testaments, which he consid-ered well tailored to the needs and aptitude of Christians today. My colleague's reaction to our lectionary brought home to me yet again that it is one of the most valuable and enduring liturgical changes introduced by the Second Vatican Council. The Sunday and weekday readings from the lection- Andrew Ryder scJ recently wrote on the Holy Spirit's leading in four holy lives. His address remains St Joseph's Centre; Tilston Road, Malpas; Cheshire SY14 7DD; England. appreciating the word 65°4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary 366 ary have put the word of God within the earshot of many Catholics who might never open a Bible, let alone buy one. The three-year cycle of Sunday readings, the two-year cycle of daily readings from the epistles and Old Testament, and the one-year cycle of daily gospels provide a simple and comprehensive introduction to the Scriptures. The Vatican Council did not, of course, invent the lectionary. That misconception could prevent us from seeing the full significance of the lectionary in the life of the parish. The lectionary is not a latter-day insertion of certain biblical texts into our sacramental celebrations. Long before there was any Bible in the modern sense of the word, the lectionary was the ordinary means by which the faithful came in contact with God's word. The early Christians did not have Bibles. Their knowledge came from hearing the sacred text read out during their community gatherings. By such listening, the first gen-erations of the church were being faithful to their Jewish roots. Regular proclamation of the Scriptures had begun long before the Christian era. The origin of our present lectionary goes back to Old Testament times. The Synagogue Liturgy Old Testament books attributed to authors such as Moses (the first five books of the Bible--the Pentateuch), Amos, and Isaiah were, in fact, produced posthumously and often at a much later date. After a number of revi-sions, the final text was put together by editors (also called redactors), who were not producing books for dis-tribution among the people but were preparing material for community use.* While many of the individual books have a much older origin, the present canonical form of the Old Testament was the result of editing that lasted from the fifth to the second century B.C. The material as a whole Review for Religious was "the product of a temple-based community living in and around Jerusalem.''2 The definitive written form comprised of legal material (the Torah), the works of the prophets (including the books of Joshua and Samuel), and the "writings" (Psalms and the wisdom literature).3 The three groups of - books make up the Holy Scriptures of the Hebrew Bible. These Biblia (books) were revered as the word of God and were studied and read aloud in wor-ship. Independently .i of the temple, wor-ship through the word gradually took pride of place in the - ~ synagogue. Here people met on certain days for public services, without having a sacrificial liturgy.4 The precise origin of the synagogues is not clear. The general theory is that such meeting places came into being during the Babylonian Exile, as a substitute for the temple services. They were buildings constructed, not for sacrifice, but for prayer and the reading of the word of God. A fixed form of prayer was one of the inno-vations of the synagogue, and the buildings came to be called "houses of prayer." Synagogues also served as local community centers for the scattered Jewish people of the Diaspora and were pivotal in Jewish life. Though used also for political and social purposes, their primary pur-pose was spiritual and educational.5 Reading and study of the Scriptures took place on the Sabbath and feast days. There is evidence of two inde- By the time of Jesus, the weekly synagogue liturgy, featuring a communal reading :and study of the holy texts, had become the universal Jewish: practice. 367 65.4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary 68] pendent cycles of readings, an annual and a triennial. The annual cycle is associated with the Jewish community in Babylon. A three-year cycle, with shorter readings, seems to have been the practice in Palestine. By the time of Jesus, the weekly synagogue liturgy, featuring a commu-nal reading and study of the holy texts, had become the universal Jewish practice. This service was quite distinct from temple worship and also from anything that existed in contemporary pagan religions. "It was a unique liturgi: cal feature in the ancient world; no such form of worship was known in paganism.''6 In the synagogue service the reading of the Torah was followed by a translation of the Hebrew text into the vernacular (a targum) and further instruction (the sermon). Philo of Alexandria, the lst-century commen-tator on Jewish religious practice, gives a description of communal Sabbath observance in his native city, focus-ing on the exposition of the Torah: "It was customary on every day when opportunity offered, and preeminently on the seventh day, as I have explained above, to pursue the study of wisdom with the ruler expounding and instruct-ing the people what they should say and do, while they received edification and betterment in moral principles and conduct.''7 Philo goes on to say that such instruction could last the whole day. As well as the temple and the synagogue liturgies, family celebrations such as the Passover were also cru-cial for the Jewish religion. Recitation of the Shema (Dt 6:4) and the singing of psalms became an integral part of these festive gatherings, as we see in the Last Supper meal of Jesus with his apostles. Yet, though family mem-bers memorized parts at least of the psalms for such celebrations, the regular contact of the practicing Jew with the word of God was through attendance at Sabbath worship in the synagogue. Review for Religious Jesus chose to begin his public ministry in the syna-gogue of Nazareth (Lk 4:16-30). By his time the scrolls containing readings from the Law and the Prophets were a treasured part of liturgical equipment. Jesus was brought up listening to the word of God when he went for wor-ship with his family,s Hearing the cycle of readings pro-claimed on the Sabbath was how he became acquainted with "the Scriptures" (Lk 24:27). The New Testament At the very beginning, like the rest of the Jews, the followers of Jesus listened to the word of God in the synagogue, as well as joining in the recitation of the Psalms during temple worship (Ac 2:46). But, towards the end of the 1st century, having been expelled from the Jewish synagogues, the Christian communities held their own celebrations in halls or large family residences (1 Co 11:17-22). Remains of these early "house churches" still exist in Rome. A little before 50 A.D., Paul sent the converts he had been instructing in Thessalonika a short letter with some further explanations of his teaching. The newly founded church faithfully preserved it for public use. Paul con-tinued to write similar epistles to encourage and educate other groups of converts. These letters circulated among the fledgling communities and were read out when they assembled.9 About fifteen years later, Mark had the idea of put-ting the stories about Jesus into a continuous narrative, giving Christians their first Gospel. So, as well as "the Scriptures," there could now be readings from Paul and Mark at Christian gatherings. Twenty years on, Matthew's Gospel appeared, probably with liturgical use directly in mind,'° linking the life and teaching of Jesus more closely to his Old Testament roots. At about the same time, 369 6.~.4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary Luke set himself the task of writing a full account of the Christian message and added a second volume, the Acts of the Apostles, to bring the Christian story up to date. Though the work of the final redactors is not so clearly marked, editing can also be detected in the com-pilation of the Gospels and the other readings that even-tually became known as the New Testament. The fourth Gospel gives us the best example of revision (the two end-ings 20:30 and 21:25). John also shows how the Gospel narrative could be linked to the liturgy: "The emphasis on feasts as the occasion and indeed subject matter of Jesus' discourses is underlined by the evangelist in chap-ters 5-10.''1~ The Catholic Lectionary As Christians of the 21st century, we do not study the word of God in a vacuum, but as members of a com-munity; and, while as Catholics we do not claim any particular method of biblical interpretation as our own, we do see the Scriptures firmly placed within the living tradition of the church. In particular, our reading of the Bible is closely linked to the celebration of the liturgy. The Pontifical Biblical Commission makes the point clearly: "From the earliest days of the church, the read-ing of Scripture has been an integral part of the Christian liturgy, an inheritance to some extent from the liturgy of the Synagogue . In principle, the liturgy, and espe-cially the sacramental liturgy, the high point of which is the Eucharistic celebration, brings about the most perfect actualization of the biblical texts, for the liturgy places the proclamation in the midst of the community of believers, gathered around Christ so as to draw near to God.''~2 Though it should lead to personal conversion, the word of God is not in the first place a private message. A true understanding of the biblical texts (working from Review for Religious and always respecting their literal meaning) sees them as God speaking to his people today in the concrete circumstances of their community life, both local and global. "The word of God endures forever." At least in theory the Scriptures have always sustained the church. Today the lectionary offers pastors a marvel-ous tool for the proc-lamation of the word of God to the people of God. Whether at the Eucharist or other liturgical functions, homilies should explain and give contemporary relevance to the mes-sage that has been pro-claimed by the readers. This requires study and serious preparation. With all the developments of recent years in the under-standing of the Bible, it is vital that Christian leaders avail of the opportunities for updating that come their way. ,3 Here I make a plea for greater attention to the Old Testament. The greatest of Christian biblical scholars, St. Jerome, once said that ignorance of the Scriptures is not to know Christ. We can add that ignorance of the Old Testament is not to know the Father of Jesus Christ. Everything that Jesus says about the Father in the Gospels can be interpreted as the fruit of his medita-tion on "the Scriptures." Even his parable of the Prodigal Son, with its beautiful perception of the mercy and love of God, can be traced back to such prophetical utterances as Hosea 11:1-9.14 '. A true understanding of the biblical texts sees them as God speaking to his people today in the concrete circumstances of their community life, both local and global. I371 65.4 2006 Ryder * The Bible and the Lectionary 372 There is a profound unity between the Old and the New Testaments. Yet we often come across the percep-tion that the former is not only old, but also out of date, irrelevant to the church of the third millennium. The Old Testament is the work of ancient masters, teachers who have left us a spiritual legacy of unsurpassed wisdom. Like old wine, this legacy continues to mature and with age becomes ever more potent. The Old Testament covers a thousand years' history of the people of God, while the New Testament spans a period of little more than half a century. Furthermore, the first fifty years of Christianity were a golden age, a time of marvelous growth and expansion throughout the world. The Old Testament, on the other hand, records the fail-ures as well as the successes, the lows as well as the highs, of the people of God. From that point of view, those who are suffering now because of their faith can gain consola-tion from "the loving fidelity" (hesed) of Yahweh, recorded so dramatically in the pages of the Old Testament. Attentiveness to the Word Vatican II describes the liturgy as both the source and the summit of Christian spirituality. The liturgy is the prayer of the church, the Christian community at its most authentic, giving power to every other activity of the peo-ple of God. But we need strategies to help the participants profit by the riches that are available. Over the years I have encouraged people to invest in small personal copies of the lectionary. Pondering the texts proposed by the lec-tionary for the various liturgical seasons is an excellent way of "thinking with the Church." Reflecting on the readings before the celebration can give the actual proclamation a greater impact and deeper personal significance. The following words from the Congregation for Divine Worship's "Suggestions and Proposals" for the Review for Religious Year of the Eucharist (2005) provide a fitting sum-mary of what has been said: "After reading from Sacred Scripture, the expression 'The word of the Lord!' recalls the importance of what proceeds from the mouth of God, and makes us hear it not as something 'distant' from us, however inspired it may be, but as the living word by which God addresses us. We are in the context of a true 'dialogue' of God with his people, a dialogue in which the marvels of salvation are proclaimed to us, and the demands of the covenant continually reproposed. "The Liturgy of the Word is a constitutive part of the Eucharist. We gather together in the liturgical assembly to listen to what the Lord has to say to us--to each and every one of us. He speaks to us here and now, to those who lis-. ten to him with faith, believing that he alone has the words of eternal life, that his word is a lamp for our feet. "Attentiveness to the word spoken is at the beginning of the spiritual life. To believe in Christ is to listen to his word and put it into practice. It is docility to the voice of the Holy Spirit, the interior Master who guides us to the whole truth--not only to the truth to be known, but also to the truth to be lived out." Notes ~ There is plenty of evidence of later editing in the prophetical works of the Old Testament. The Book of Isaiah is a composition of at least three different authors, and only the first thirty-nine chapters are now attributed to Isaiah of Jerusalem. 2 E.E. Meyers and J.W. Rogerson, The Cambridge Companion to the Bible (Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 228. 3 The Psalter may well have been the first book of the Hebrew Bible. Psalms go back as far as the worship of the first temple (built, accord-ing to tradition, by King Solomon). It can be seen, from the headings accompanying many of the psalms, that they were attributed to Solomon's father, King David. Various psahns were used for the different feasts, especially the autumn festival of the covenant renewal. In all likelihood 373 6Y.4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary there were psalms for different occasions, and what we have in the Psalter is a limited number of the most important ones. 4 Hans Kiing, Judaism (London: SCM Press, 1992), p. 108. 5 Roland de Vaux, Ancient Israel (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1961), p. 343. L.L. Grabbe claims a later starting point for syna-gogue worship in A History of the Jews and Judaism (New York: T & T Clark International, 2004), p. 237. 6 L.I. Levine, The Ancient Synagogue (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), p. 139. 7 Quoted in Levine, Ancient Synagogue, p. 145. 8 See J.P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus (New York: Doubleday, 1991). ~ Col 4:16. Even if Colossians is not an authentic Pauline letter, the exhortation to share the message with a neighboring church reflects an early practice. ~0 See J.P. Meier, The Vision of Matthew (New York: Paulist Press, 1979). ~1 Raymond E. Brown, An Introduction to the Gospel of John ed. F.J. Moloney (New York: Doubleday, 2003), p. 304. Of course, these are Jewish, not Christian feasts. Aileen Guilding contended that the dis-courses of Jesus were closely related to the readings in the synagogues on those feasts. The Fourth Gospel and Jewish Worship (Oxford: Clarendon, 1960). The present Catholic lectionary makes ample use of John in the baptismal catecheses of the Lenten Gospels. ~2 The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, 1993, C1. 13 Though proclaiming the word of God is a primary duty of the liturgical celebrant, recent data show that the Catholic Church has cause for concern. Two studies commissioned by Andrew Greeley and quoted in his Priests: A Calling in Crisis, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004, p. 116) indicate that Catholics do not rate their clergy highly in preaching and leadership in worship. Worse still, according to Greeley, priests themselves do not seem aware of the problem, and their failure to communicate the word of God is one of the reasons why people are leav-ing the church. Even if Greeley's research was conducted in the U.S.A., I am sure it is representative of the clergy in other parts of the world. ,4 The New Testament writers drew their "theology" (teaching on God) from the Old Testament. After his conversion Paul changed his view of Jesus, recognizing him as the Promised One. But his belief in "the God of the Fathers," built up through meditation on the biblical word of the Old Testament, remained the bedrock of his preaching on divine providence. His moral instruction, too, presumes the ethical teachings of the Hebrew Bible. Review for Religious BRENDAN KNEALE Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation ~fihnaalt lIi scta ollf tphher caosedsa dtoe stchrei bAinpgo sfdoeusr' mCarejoerd dios cit-s trines: "the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and life everlasting." Experienced people can especially appreciate these great doctrines because they address our deepest human concerns, namely, existential loneliness, personal guilt, physical mortality, and our insatiably infi-nite longings. In other words, we are given four basic doctrines that bring our spirits hope in the face of the most oppressive psychological burdens, namely, guilt, loneliness, mortality, and longing. Our Physical Mortality Perhaps the heaviest of these burdens is the realiza-tion of our inevitable death, though for some of us it is the load of guilt we carry, consciously or unconsciously. Brendan Kneale FSC wrote for us earlier this year. His address is De La Salle Institute; 4405 Redwood Road; Napa, California 94558. 65.4 2006 Kneale ¯ Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation 376 For many people it is a sense of aloneness. Overlying this we have a deep, and necessarily unrequited, appetite for the infinite, a conscious or unconscious longing. One of the worst parts of "the human predicament" is the inevitability of our eventually dying--what Zechariah calls living in "the darkness of the shadow of death." But Zechariah says that, in addition to a promise of liberation from this "shadow of death," Christ brings "knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of sins," making us "free to worship him without fear." No human being, regardless of how fortunate in matters of health or wealth or domestic comfort, is free of impending death and occasional realizations of that inevitability. The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews mentions this terror in chapter 2. He speaks of the "fear of death which keeps us in slavery all our lives." And we recall the emotional passages in some of the Psalms about the burden of death, Psalm 90 for example, along with poignant words from Ecclesiastes. So in the Apostles' Creed we affirm our conviction that there will be for us a "resurrection of the body and life everlasting." The trauma of our earthly death will be really a kind of "birth trauma." This doctrine may well be, in our day and age, the hardest to accept of all Christian teachings. At the same time it is one of the most attrac-tive. Some historians attribute the rapid spread of early Christianity to the news of Christ's bodily resurrection and to people's strong desire to participate in it. Our Guilt We also affirm at the end of the Creed our belief in "the forgiveness of s!ns," a doctrine of enormous consola-tion. On the face of it, our guilt is irremovable because offenses against God are against the Infinite and we are only finite. Recall Psalm 65 with its doublet: "Too heavy R~view for Religious for us our offenses; but you wipe them away." The heavi-ness of guilt can be a force for good as well as evil, but it is still a burden. Guilt is one of the most powerful forces in human behavior. It can accompany both a suspicion of our own culpability and a state of actual culpability. It entails, as the dictionary says, a felt need to repay or requite the persons offended. It is related to feelings of remorse and shame, an awareness and regret over our responsibility for evil. Psalm 65 notes, "We are overcome by our sins." Guilt can cast a shadow over a whole life. Nevertheless, we know it can be relieved, at least in part, by forgive-ness. We need to accept for-giveness as well as bestow it. If we try, instead, to wipe our own offense from our memo- The heaviness of guilt can be a force for good as well as evil, but it is still a burden. ries, the psychological damage may be difficult to assess. Pope St. Clement wrote that it is better to admit one's sins than to harden one's heart. Guilt can drive us to inflict grave harm on ourselves and on others. It can also drive us to do good things. Acquittal or forgiveness removes punishment, but it does not remove the historical fact of guilt. That fact keeps us grateful for forgiveness. Guilt seems different from shame in that it is internal while shame is more external, or per-haps one relates to offenses against God and his law while the other relates to offenses against society and its conven-tions. Shame and guilt sometimes overlap, and in a moral society would do so more frequently. A theological problem about forgiveness may occur to us in connection with Christ's telling the Good Thief on the cross, "This day you will be with me in paradise." It is 65.4 2006 Kneale ¯ Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation easy to see how Christ as a Divine Person could forgive the sins that Dismas committed against God, but it is not easy to see how Christ could forgive sins committed by a thief against his victims--and for Christ to do so without the victims' prior consent. One would think that such forgive-ness belongs also to the victims. Is Christ the spokesman of forgiveness for all victims of the sins of robbery even though he himself is not (or does not seem to be) one of the direct victims? In a parallel question, can Christ forgive the sins we commit against ourselves even if we do not? The answer has to be yes. But on what grounds must we say so? There are probably two or three ways here to try to answer the question. First, incarnational. Christ is not a mere human person; his personhood transcends all human per-sons, and he can speak for us all (just as in his two natures he can speak for human beings as well as for God). He is "the Son of Man" as well as one of the three Persons, so that he is not only our spokesman before God but also the spokesman to all people and for all people. Second, evangelical. Christ tied his gospel message intimately to the forgiveness that we must exercise toward one another. Insofar as his message is successful and insofar as we are with him, we forgive each other and leave vengeance (or the popular term "closure") to God. The Our Father, both in context and content, empha-sizes that point. Also, when in Mark 12:34 Christ praises the scribe, it is because he sees the intimate connection between love of God and love of neighbor. Third, eschatological. It seems that one of the main purposes of the Last Judgment is to demonstrate the justice of God. It is no doubt mysterious, but every thief, including the Good Thief, will have found that justice has been done for his victims, and the victims will find it so to. The word "trespass" in the Our Father is a good choice, since our sins are like trespassing on the rights of God. Review for Religious God is offended but not harmed by our sins. Of course, the reason why he is offended by our sins is that these sins do harm to us and often to our neighbors, all of whom God loves. Loving us, he does not want to see us or anyone else harmed. The adage "Love me, love my dog" can be extended to God's desire that all people love one another. Our Insatiable Longing Is there not at least a third affliction shared by all man-kind, namely, an appetite for more, feeling we can never have enough in this life? We want not only an immortal and guilt-free life, but we want it to be unencumbered in all respects, wholly and completely fulfilled. Thoreau's famous Walden aphorism has it that "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation," and Virgil wrote: Sunt lacrimae - rerum, et mentem mor-talia tangunt--there are the tears of things, and the realities of death bear on one's spirit. Paul gives a Christian slant to Virgil in Romans 8:21: "It was not for any fault on the part of creation that it was unable to attain its purpose [that is, was subject to futility]; it was made so by God. But creation still retains the hope of being freed, like us, from its slavery to decadence, and to enjoy the same freedom and glory as the children of God. From the beginning till now the entire creation, as we know, has been groaning in one great act of giving birth--and not only creation but all of us." We frequently sense that we are hemmed in by our finite circumstances since we aspire to much more than We often shield ourselves from deeper aspirations and real fears by pursuing and possessing material things. 379 65.4 2006 Kneale ¯ Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation we have. In fact, we possess a capacity for the Infinite (whether we are aware of the Infinite or not). Our life-long dissatisfaction with having an ever greater number of good things in this life should make us aware of this capacity. We, though, often shield ourselves from deeper aspirations and real fears by pursuing and possessing material things. And nonbelievers may try to fulfill such deep aspirations by a life of the mind and an appreciation of the arts--which, after all, are finite too. It was popular a generation ago to refer to the con-ditions of our earthly life as "the human predicament" and to our life as one of "exile." A real pessimism envel-ops some people. The Rumanian-French aphorist E.M. Cioran drew this depressing conclusion: "Some people still wonder if life has a meaning. In fact it all comes down to knowing whether it is bearable." But the Creed promises that our reward is everlasting. All longings will be met, including the desire for meaning. Our Loneliness "The holy Catholic Church" and "the Communion of Saints." We are convinced that we are not alone. It is true that our uniqueness as individuals separates us from all other people. But, as St. Paul implies, the parts of one's body, the leg or the ear, are not individually lonely. When we as individu-als are fully incorporated in the Body of Christ, we will have found a cure for all loneliness, both existential and social. The Church Glorious will be sociable. At the beginning of the Creed, we are assured that God is not lonely: there are three Persons in God. That revela-tion is a source of great consolation, a consolation apparendy denied to Jews and Muslims (whose God is understood as very lonely). In the Christian vision, as Alfons Deeken SJ put it years ago, "God exists as a fellowship and friendship of three Divine Persons. In the Trinity each Person has his existence Review for Religious only in relation to the others, and it is only in existing for the others, in the process of infinite giving and receiving of love, that each One is fully himself. Self-being does not decrease through self-giving. Thus the Trinity, as the source and model of all personhood and community, shows us that the high-est perfection of a person is not self-assertion, isolation, and independence, but rather openness and loving commitment to others" (Growing Old, and How to Cope with It, Paulist Press, 1972). Prayer Suggestion There is a prayer tradition that we choose a prayer formula such as our Creed, and we find ourselves in God's presence as we dwell on individual words or phrases of the prayer formula. Where we find relish and consolation, we remain until we feel that we should move on to another word or phrase. Then, when we have come to the end of our prayer time, we simply pray through the whole Creed in the usual way. In the light of the reflection by Brendan Kneale FSC, we might use the last part of the Creed for our daily prayer in this fashion over some days. We might also use the whole text for our prayer in this way. 65.4 2006 ARMAND NIGRO God's Invitation 382 l~is something awesome. It verges on the incred-le, even the ridiculous. Mmighty God, Creator and Lord of the Universe, wants to be involved and commu-nicate with us. God invites us to spend time with Him, to realize He is truly our Abba, as He is for Jesus, and to taste and relish that relationship This is an invitation to faith, to wait on the Lord, believing that God will reveal Himself to us and share with us His gracious purposes. It is God's invitation to prayer. God Acts In Us If we are open to it, God directly acts in us, speaks to us in every created experience, especially in the sacred Word in Scripture. Every sensible reality, from raindrop to wild weed to human smile, is a partial revelation of God, a finite shape of God's creative love. Every word in Holy Scripture is a humanly conditioned word of God, ever alive, full of meaning and power for us. Armand Nigro SJ is retreat director and pastoral minister at Holy Spirit Center; 10980 Hillside Drive; Anchorage, Maska 99507. Review f~r Religious Take a serious look at this revelation in passages like Psalm 81, Isaiah 55, Hosea 2 and 11,Jeremiah 1, Matthew 11:25, and John 14 and 15. Listening To God This astounding revelation is not merely for our minds; it is a call for us to experience and live in it. But this will never take place unless we take time to listen to God, to savor God's word and let it soak into us. Unless we do this, we'll never really know God. The danger is not just that we not take time to listen to him, but that we may even ignore what we hear. "Don't harden your hearts," God pleads in Psalm 95. But why should God care at all? Let's face it, if I were God, the last thing I'd want to do is be bothered by peo-ple like me. "To hell with them if they won't listen! No skin off my nose if they behave themselves or not. They are just not worth troubling over, especially for a God who has infinitely better and more important things to think about." God's Answer God's answer to this is: "But you are not God. I am. And My thinking is not your thinking and my ways are not your ways (Isaiah 5 5). You are My son, My daughter. I want to be your Abba (Father and Mother to you). This is what I want. This is important to me. Won't you believe me? Won't you let me?" Incredible--absolutely incredible! 65.4 2006 SE!~q D. SAMMON Sexuality and Celibate Chastity: Friends Not Foes living chastely Priest and author Ronald Rolheiser tells of a curious young man finding himself seated next to a woman religious on a plane trip. He asks her a number of questions, mostly about celi-bate chastity. He remarks, "What intrigues me about you, Sister, is your obvious zest for life. Now imagine how much more satisfying that life would be if you also had sex." And her response? "What impresses me about you," she says, "is your sincerity and the fact that you are searching for love. But love and sex are not the same thing. Now imagine how much richer your life might be if you were open to that possibility." How easily people can amiably use mutually intelligi-ble words and not understand each other at all! The word sexuality encompasses much more than genital sex. It includes our way of being in the world as a man or woman, the attitudes and characteristics that we call masculine and Sefin D. Sammon FMS writes again from Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.E 10250; 00144 Roma, Italy. Review for Religious feminine. The word and the reality remind us that we are social beings, that we need and desire friendship and affection. These are God-given ways to be holy. Sexual and spiritual energy should be friends and not foes. Both aim at union with God and others. Human sexuality has more to do with self-transcendence than with self-fulfillment. The human life cycle neatly outlines the discussion of sexuality and celibate chastity. Forming an identity and developing closer relationships are different for you and me at twenty than at forty-five. Twenty years later these opportunities and challenges are different again. Over a lifetime we change in our self-understanding, our knowledge of how the world works, our understanding of our faith in Jesus Christ and our way of living that faith. Why would we not also change in our understanding and appreciation of our sexuality and our celibate chastity? Talking about intimacy, sexuality, and the vow of chas-tity is difficult. People lack effective words or a sense of comfort, and mutual understanding fails to occur. When asked why we chose a life of celibate chastity, we might answer, "For the sake of the kingdom; in order to love everyone and not just one person; to be more available." These answers are "not bad,".but they leave most of us and our listeners unsatisfied. When I use the phrase celiba{e chastity here, I will mean vowed chastity as it is lived within religious insti-tutes today. Celibate chastity is at the very heart of the way of life we call religious, it is not just an ascetical practice, though it may feel that way at times. And, while it is intimately related to our mission, it did not come into existence to make religious congregations' apostolic work more efficient. Celibate chastity is a defining char-acteristic of our way of life and needs to be seen as such. God has reached out to us in Jesus. Jesus has called us to 65.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity Foreclosing ouf identity= sets thestage fqr later problems with.intimacy follow him. The relationship we have with him must be central to our lives. Have you ever asked yourself: "Where am I going in life?" "How am I using or wasting my talents?" "Does my presence in this religious community make any dif-ference at all--would I be missed if I were not here?" Such questions are related to both identity and intimacy, particularly challenging issues for young religious. They need to form a first or provisional identity as they move from their late teens to their late twenties. They need also to face questions of intimacy in their lives. Identity formation gets underway when we ask, "Who am I and what do I cherish or hold dear?" In answer-ing we move though three phases. First we explore our life ¯ options; next we see that we must choose one from among a variety of attractive possibilities; finally we must decide, com-mitting ourselves to a particular identity. Understandably, this process is influenced by culture and custom. The manner in which men and women approach it varies. Nevertheless, exploring options and making difficult choices are part of the life history of almost all who have achieved an identity instead of having one thrust upon them. Some among us foreclose identity. Overwhelmed by the number of options or lacking the wherewithal to succeed in one or another, we quicHy step into an identity that is ready-made, like a shirt that comes ready-made through the mail. We keep it whether it fits well or not. Foreclosing our identity sets the stage for later prob-lems with intimacy. There is hope, though, for, if we have Rt.vie~v for Religious not formed an identity early, we are given other oppor-tunities over the years. Times of transition give us new chances. At midlife, for example, certain reassessments about life can be made. Identity and Intimacy Why spend all this time discussing identity? Because of its relation to intimacy. This word has been defined too narrowly in the past. I suggest this description: Intimacy occurs when we are sure enough about ourselves as per-sons, are so much at home with ourselves, that we can risk closeness with someone else.~ During our early adulthood we are young in our understanding and experience of intimacy. Some would suggest that, while deep loving relationships are possible for young people, they are more the exception than the rule. For most of us mature intimacy is just not possible until later in life. Uncertainty and confusion often sur-round young adult sexuality, and the rich spirituality that lies at the heart of mature celibate chastity is often not available until the middle years. When men and women religious move through their early adult years, intimacy questions arise, and genital-sexuality questions as well. Today the media and a good many people see genital restraint as constricted and par-tial living that leads to a lonely life ahead. How, then, do we prepare those in formation for the challenges they will face? How do we help them grow into a celibate and chaste way of loving others? How do we help them understand, from our own experience, the joys and satis-factions of celibate chaste living? In their late twenties and early thirties some sisters, priests, and brothers fall in love for the first time. This experience, sometimes more infatuation than genuine intimacy, can be an important step toward building lov- 6Y.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity ing adult relationships with other men and women. This outcome can occur, ho.wever, only if they can talk about the relationship. Unfortunately these relationships often remain hidden, shrouded in secrecy. We all need some privacy in our relationships, but, if secrecy overshadows any of them, trouble usually lies ahead. You and I benefit from time together with friends and so does our community. It is natural to look forward to being with people whose very presence is life-giving for us. Religious life itself has always included caring relation-ships that grow over time. Witness the great friendships down through the centuries, friendships that flourished even when rules warned against them. The tendency of most of us is to share our friends with others. Secrecy in a relationship is something quite differ-ent and becomes an obstacle to mature celibate chastity. Secrecy robs people of the opportunity of getting advice from someone outside of the relationship, someone who can keep them honest about what is transpiring. All of us risk deluding ourselves about relationships, particu-larly those with romantic overtones. The decisions we make about them may be flawed. And in these matters people do make decisions. If two religious end up in bed together, they should not claim that angels carried them there. Rather, they need to admit that they made a series of decisions that led to this outcome. We need privacy for some relationships to grow, but we must also must set limits if we are to live with integrity. This is true not only in the lives of priests and religious, but in everyone's life, married or single. Living my life in keeping with the commitments that I made means that my love will not be expressed genitally, but in reality it may be no less intimate. In our sexuality as in so many other areas of our lives, we do well to remember that we are unfinished and incom- Review for Religiozts plete. In making prudent life choices about sexuality, we in turn make many other decisions. With midlife we become more aware that limits have been part of all our best choices. Friendship Any intimate relationship stretches one's identity. But is that not what needs to happen as we move through the stages of our life? We need to make ourselves known, risk our self-definition, and allow others to come close to us precisely so that we can - be known, influenced, and possibly changed as a result of the rela-tionship. Many situa-tions call for the risk of our self-understanding. Close friendships allow - ~ us to relax the stance which we usually assume when fac-ing the world and most other people. Friends reach a part of us that is inaccessible to others; they know us as others do not. Friends are not frightened by one another's weak-nesses, and so they feel free to share their fears, concerns, difficulties. As a consequence they learn to be more at home with themselves, their qualities, their preoccupa-tions. In community life people can risk self-definition, and most do. Some, however, stay on the fringes, moving in and out of the community's life but refusing to let other members have any claim on them. If a weekend activ-ity is planned, fringe members will encourage the others to make their plans, saying they will fit in if they can. Whereas for most of us absence from community activi-ties occurs from time to time, for fringe members it is a way of life. They have difficulty with intimacy; by not Any intimate relationship stretches one's i&ntity. 65.4 2006 Sam,non * Sexuality and Celibate Chastity 390 allowing the group to come close to them, they avoid the "difficulty" of being changed by their presence. They protect their self-definition, and they perpetuate their isolation, living alone in the midst of the group. Their relationships fail to flourish. What they may point to as intimacy is often a pseudo-intimacy. The consequences of refusing to risk self-definition are grave. The persons deny themselves one of life's greatest gifts, the experience of friendship. Situations involving cooperation and competition can help us to stretch our self-understanding. Working together with others on a task, we become aware of per-sonal gifts and abilities not recognized previously. We may discover that we have skills that help a group com-plete an assigned task. Athletes have similar experiences. In difficult games they may discover unknown talents and learn endurance as they make an all-out effort to win. The experience of intimacy can be a help to prayer. A corollary is that people may apply their fear of human intimacy to God as well, keeping God at arm's length so that even God does not disturb supposedly well-thought-out plans. Such plans are far from the indifference sought in making a good discernment. Only when I am indiffer-ent am I free enough to appreciate what is in God's heart for me. If I pray regularly and enjoy intimacy with God, God's desire has a good chance of becoming my own, for my own benefit. Authentic discernment demands that I risk intimacy with God, talking over my mixed feelings, my fears, in a closeness that could change my self-defini-tion and my life. Do not, however, confuse self-disclosure with inti-macy itself. True intimacy includes caution and selectiv-ity. It is altogether different from telling one's life story in great detail to a total stranger at a social gathering-- something most of us back off from in embarrassment, Review for Religious excusing ourselves for a moment, with the hope that upon our return the person will be just as animatedly engaged with someone else. Real relationships take time. Some parts of ourselves, shared easily at the right time in a relationship, could not have been spoken about earlier. Though friends are people with whom you and I share confidences, they are much more than that. Over time a history develops between two friends. They prove themselves mutually dependable. Eventually they realize that they valued each other long before they ever thought of anything like an evaluation. Friendship between Men and Women Using but a few words, the psychologist Carol Gilligan has put into perspective the differences between men and women. "It all goes back, of course, to Adam and Eve," she says, "a story that shows, among other things, that if you make a woman out of a man, you are bound to get into trouble." When it comes to relationships, men and women have differences in style and expectation. In a number of cultures men learn early in life how to be part of a team. As they grow up, teamwork continues to be important for them both in work and play. The bonds that men develop, then, depend more on solidarity than self-disclosure. It is the things they do together that bind them. When they do not have those things to do, many men stop com-ing together. Among women, relationships are usually more important than anything they might do together. Women tend to value their friendships with other women especially for the emotional support and understanding they receive; they spend time together exploring their personal experience and inner world of meaning. Men tend to be uncomfortable when they sense that a woman friend wants them to reveal more about them- I391 65.4 2006 Sammon * Sexuality and Celibate Chastity 392[ selves than they care to. Women tend to be disappointed that their male friends are not so forthcoming in emo-tional sharing as they would like them to be. Men and women, though, agree strongly on this: in cross-gender relationships, the issue of sex has to be resolved before the friendship can deepen. If a man and woman in a rela-tionship have a strong sexual attraction to one another and fail to talk about these feelings with someone else, trouble often lies ahead. Men and women, of course, differ also in other ways than we have mentioned, but friendships continue to flourish between them. With friends we do not have to be altogether consistent; we can think and feel differently on alternate days with little consequence. During periods of significant personal change, friends can and should be specially aware and considerate, not exaggerating per-sonal ideas of how things are "supposed to be." All people haveboth a masculine and a feminine side within their personalities. Every culture has its gender images, but rigid adherence to them can be quite prob-lematic, leading to distorted emotional development and difficulties with intimacy. Early in life most women are unaware of their masculine side, and the same can be said of most men and their feminine side. For a relationship of mature intimacy, the masculine and feminine aspects in us must have a certain level of integration. This is true regardless of sexual orientation. During their twenties and thirties, men and women struggle with intimacy in different ways. A man often sees a danger in closeness, fearing it will limit his inde-pendence. He shies away. A woman is often apprehensive about separation. At this time in their lives, while men are having difficulty with closeness in a relationship, women are finding it hard to be separate and be their individual selves. A failure to integrate masculine and feminine sides Review for Religious gives rise to several consequences. A woman finding her masculine side threatening shies away from demonstrat-ing her natural competence in one area of life or another. A man fearing implications of his more intuitive feminine qualities gives the mes- - . sage that he is unavail-able for relationship. He can appear sulky, with-drawn, overly sensitive. Midlife is a good time for doing this work of integration. Increasingly aware that we have lived at least half of our earthly life already, we become less concerned about gender image and we grow in our ability for genu-ine closeness and in our self-knowledge and acceptance. Some aspects of ourselves defy greater self-knowl-edge. These shadow traits, often obvious to others, are hidden from us. When a man projects the positive quali-fies of his own feminine side onto a woman, she becomes highly desirable to him--the object of his fantasies and sexual longings. This situation becomes, in time, suffo-cating for a woman. As she develops her own personality in the relationship, she finds this same man now blaming her somehow for his unhappiness and negative moods. When a woman projects her unconscious masculine side onto a man, she overvalues him, seeing him as a hero and guide. Over time, however, she begins to see her earlier savior and guide as the source of all her feelings of belittlement and disappointment. Projection does little or nothing to foster mature intimacy. It fosters mutual fascination and infatuation, which can be important steps toward mature intimacy, For a relationship of mature intimacy, the masculine and feminine aspects in us must have a certain level of integration. 65.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity but relationships built on this foundation do not last. In such a relationship the persons are actually in love with themselves. 394 Sexual Orientation In any discussion about human sexuality and celibate chastity, we need to say a word about sexual orientation. There have always been, are now, and always will be homo-sexually oriented .men and women as members of religious congregations. Among this group are persons of exemplary celibate chastity; others have stretched the meaning of the vow of chastity beyond recognition. But the same can be said of their heterosexual brothers and sisters. I believe that some recent discussions about the area of sexual ori-entation have taken the wrong focus. Rather than empha-sizing people's heterosexuality or homosexuality, we would better direct our energies towards helping everyone called to religious life to live lives of celibate chastity. The area of sexual orientation is complex. There are many different approaches in discussing the matter. Some use the term "transitory homosexuality" to describe a sit-uation in which a person finds himself or herself sexually attracted to a member of the same sex but is not, in fact, homosexually oriented. If this is the case with a novice, what the formation personnel need is understanding and compassion. Others would contend that more than a few people, while defining themselves in the main as hetero-sexual or homosexual, find that their sexual feelings and fantasies are more accurately described as falling along a continuum. Formation personnel and other religious need to be at home with their own sexuality and orienta-tion and, of course, with their choice to live in a celibate chaste way. Of particular concern in recent years has been the abuse of male children at the hands of the clergy and Review for Religious male religious. There is no empirical evidence linking homosexuality with this behavior called pederasty. As tragic as sexual abuse is for all involved, wrong would not be righted nor children protected by policies based on the faulty notion that homosexuality and a predisposi-tion to abuse children are linked. Mention is sometimes made about the destructive effect that a gay subculture can have when it is present in a house of formation, a seminary, or a religious com-munity. Subcultures, be they sexual or otherwise, have no place in religious life. When they do emerge, however, it might be more profitable to seek the reason for their exis-tence rather than simply insist that they cease to exist. In consecrated life our primary identity must be our identity as religious persons. No other identities--family, intellectual, interpersonal, sexual--none of these nor any other can take precedence over our identity as religious persons. That identity more than anything else shapes our faith, our self-understanding, and our journey of self-transcendence. Spiritual Growth If sexuality lies at the center of the spiritual life, the spiritual life is likewise at the heart of genuine celibate chaste living. For our celibate chastity, Jesus Christ must rest at the center of our lives. For that to happen, we must accept Jesus' love for us in a special way. The rela-tionship that each of us has with him and its pattern of development are unique. Everyone's spirituality must be tailor-made to reflect these realities. As religious all of us have been presented with formulas and plans of action that carry with them some guarantee of success in the spiritual life, but unfortunately those formulas and plans of action tend to ignore the unique relationship that we each have with Jesus. They may even get in the way. 65.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity 396 To ensure that our life with God is at the heart of our celibate chastity, we need be ready for spiritual awaken-ings, willing to explore the longings that are present in them. Spiritual awakenings may be like sexual awakening at the age of puberty. They may be startling or more gradual. Our desire for God grows. Finally we become vividly aware that God's love is given to us freely with no strings attached, without our having earned it. The idea of having to earn God's love is just out of the question. To be involved with Jesus Christ means embracing the paschal mystery. He asks us to imitate him, not admire him. When you and I dedicate our celibate lives to him, to closeness to him, we must realize that it includes suf-fering and death. Relationships do not just happen; they take time and effort. Throughout the ages spiritual writers have insisted that personal prayer is essential to a relationship with the Lord. For that bond to become strong, moments of prayer must eventually become regular and longer, ide-ally an hour each day. More than a few in religious life, however, will plead a lack of time. That claim rings true, because the activity.of some of us today borders on the pathological. It is the single greatest threat to our inte-rior life and leads only to greater self-preoccupation, an overemphasis on efficiency, and restlessness. Those who are overly busy are less likely to encounter Jesus in the marketplace of everyday life; they lack sufficient inte-riority. An obsession with efficiency leaves little room for spontaneity, for an openness to wonder. Restlessness, compulsively seeking one experience after another, inter-feres with developing a spirit of solitude, hospitality, and genuine prayer. By way of contrast, the fruits and gifts of the Holy Spirit are evident in the lives of those who pray regularly. Numbered among those fruits are charity, a spirit of joy, Review for Religious patience, forbearance, faith, and reverence for oneself and others. The gifts include wisdom, understanding, coun-sel, knowledge, piety, fortitude, and fear of the Lord. Are these fruits and gifts of the Spirit present in our lives? If not, we need to wonder about how seriously we take our relationship with Jesus Christ. We need to decide what we need to change in our lives in order to practice what we espouse publicly. Our Christian life, at its heart, is about a relationship with Jesus Christ. That relationship is the solution for my restiveness, the answer to my ques-tions, the source of my joy. There will always be people in our world who con-sider those who live our kind of life to be naive and foolish. And we are. Naive, because the choice does not follow social convention; foolish, because to embrace and live well a life of celibate chastity leads inevitably to a revolution of the heart. Bernard Lonergan SJ calls it "an otherworldly falling in love. It is total and permanent self-surrender without conditions, qualifications, reserva-tions." Living such a life bears great fruit. We discover the true meaning of passion, becoming more deeply spiri-tual and sexual at the same time. Over time we become more at home with ourselves and with God. For the per-son who embraces fully the challenge of a life of celibate chastity, the description "deeply spiritual and profoundly human" becomes eventually the only one that is apt. It tells the whole story. Let us pray that we have the cour-age to make it our own. References David Finkelhor and Associates. A Sourcebook on Child Sexual Abuse. Newbury Park, Calif.: Sage, 1986). Bernard Lonergan. Method in Theology. London: Herder and Herder, 1972. James Nelson. Intimate Connection: Male Sexvcafity and Mastwline Spiritualily. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988. 397 6Y.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity Ronald Rolheiser. The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christhm Spirituality. New York: Doubleday, 1999. --. Forgotten among the Lilies. New York: Doubleday, 2005. Lillian Rubin. Intimate Strangers: Men and Women Together. New York: Harper and Row, 1983. --. Just Friends: The Role of Friendship in Our Lives. New York: Harper and Row, 1985. Sandra M. Schneiders. Selling All: Commitment, Consecrated Celibacy, and Community in Catholic Religious Life. Mahwah: Paulist, 2001. Sean Sammon. An Undivided Heart: Making Sense of Celibate Chastity. Staten Island: Alba House, 1993. Sean Sammon. "Celibate Chastity: An Affair of the Heart." Pastoral Review, April 2001. John Sanford. Invisible Partners. Ramsey: Paulist, 1980. 398 Reflection/Discussion Questions 1. After reading Sammon's article, are we able to give a more adequate answer to the question, "Why do we choose a life of celibate chastity?" 2. Have we found that our experiences of intimacy with others has been a help in the fervor of our prayer life? 3. Let's explore the implications of this sentence: If sexuality lies at the center of the spiritual life, the spiritual life is likewise at the heart of genuine celibate chaste living. Review for Rdigious ANNETTE M. PELLETIER "Bride of Christ": Timely Sign in Signless Times? ~fohodi lceo sutartn adti nthge i nC laitnheo tloic g Uetn aiv ceurspi toyf ocfo fAfemee irnic tah,e a young woman student, noticing that I was a religious sister, tapped me on the shoulder and asked earnestly, "Sister, are there any other sisters on campus? Sisters are seldom seen these days. W-here are they?" I said, "Oh, yes, there are sisters on campus, both as professors and as students. You might not see them, but they are here." Some time later, another young woman student, the leader of the women's vocation discernment group, invited me to accompany them on their fall retreat, to talk with them about the meaning of "bride of Christ," and to say something on "the chastity bit." Her question jolted me. How long had it been since I had thought of myself as a "bride of Christ"? The other question encour-aged me. Young Catholic women are asking, "Where are 399 Annette M. Pelleder IHM wrote two articles for us a dozen years ago. Her address is Immaculate Heart Convent; 6600 Little Falls Road; Arlington, Virginia 22213. 65.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Cl~rist" How curious that ~chastity,: maligned and misunderstood in contemporary ~ulture, is a virtue tha~t youth see and wonder abouL 4001 the sisters?" The tone seemed to say we are missed or at least missing. They are also wondering about that "chas-tity bit." Are Catholic religious women really "brides of Christ"? It seems to me that, at least on one campus in the United States, women university students are asking what it means for a Catholic woman to be consecrated to God as a religious sister. Could such interest or curiosity be a new sign in our times? Among religious women, post-Vatican II theologi-cal reflection on the identity and mission of the conse-crated life abounds. Vatican II's decrees Pe~fectae caritatis (1,5) and Lumen gentium (42) and, more recently, Pope John Paul's Vita con-secrata (3,4,5) situated the consecrated life at the heart of its mys-tery and mission, a gift from God to the church for the church. The International Congress on the Consecrated Life (Rome, 2004) por-trayed religious life in the postmodern era as a way of life imbued with a Passion for Christ, Passion for Humanity (Pauline Books and Media, 2005). Sandra Schneiders's trilogy, Religious Life in the New Millennium, examines the "qualitative dif-ference between questions religious ask today in compari-son with two decades ago. Selling All (vol. 2) retrieves and explores consecrated virginity as symbolic of the "unitive and transformative bond" between the Christian woman and Christ.4 In reference to the "chastity.bit," the body, as symbol that spea.ks its own "language," is the subject of theological reflection. Thus, the physical reality of the Review for Religious virginal body retains its place in our time as a timeless sign of the "kingdom come" and "coming" in every age and stage of history. Consecrated virginity has been and remains "exceptional gift of grace., a special symbol of heavenly benefits" (PC 12). How curious that chastity, maligned and misunderstood in contemporary culture, is a virtue that youth see and wonder about!6 Paradoxically, the youths' queries suggest that the way of life that is the "most perfect expression of the gospel on earth" (VC 18) has evolved into a symbol without a sign. Current theo-logical reflection digs deeply into the nature of symbol. Symbols implicitly convey meaning and affectively draw us into their world where relationships are effected. Certainly these youthful seekers' questions merit an answer. And what could be a more appropriate source for instruction and inspiration than the signs and symbols of the church's liturgical rites for this way of life? Relying on the ancient dictum lex orandi, lex credendi, lex agendi (as the church prays, the church believes and acts), we will examine how the signs, symbols, texts, and gestures in the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women" (here-after RPW) illuminate what it means to be a "bride of Christ.''1 The nuptial metaphor was applied to consecrated vir-ginity in the early church. Since apostolic times certain women freely dedicated their virginity to God, and the church "set her seal on this high vocation by. conse-crating those who followed it by a solemn prayer" (RPW ix). Gradually this public, solemn blessing was expanded and enriched with ritual gestures to more clearly manifest the meaning of a Christian woman's total commitment to Christ, the Bridegroom of the church. As the centuries passed, however, embellishments distorted, romanticized, or detracted from the original meaning of the rite. Vatican II's Sacrosanctum concilium occasioned the restoration of 401 65.4 2006 402 the splendor, dignity, and symbolism of the ancient "Rite of Consecration of Virgins" as well as the formulation of two distinct and separate rites, "Religious Profession of Men" and "Religious Profession of Women" (SC 9). Unlike the "Rite of Consecration of Virgins," the "Rite of Religious Profession" includes consecrated celi-bacy and poverty and obedience as well. We will restrict our focus to the meaning of nuptial metaphor (bride of Christ) in the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women." Basic to this consideration is that the body itself is a sym-bol. The body merits attention as the place of sacramental encounter, "the place of symbolic convergence--through gestures, words, postures, . . . and silences" (Chauvet, 152)--for making us believers. The body means some-thing. What one does with one's body or what is done by others to the body has significance. The choice for consecrated chastity makes the body stand for a religious meaning. Body gender carries inherent meaning in human relationships, human personhood. Who were the "brides of Christ" in early Christianity? This article cannot do justice to the copious literature ancient Christian writers devoted to Christian women virgins. Ambrose, Jerome, and Augustine used nuptial metaphors from Scripture in describing Christ and the church, the soul and God, and the Christian virgin and Christ. The Christian woman's choice to follow Christ by renouncing marriage, childbearing, and child rearing endowed her with a new status in the ecclesial community. As "bride of Christ" she could be no one else's bride. The permanent state of virginity has been seen as a life "more blessed than the martyrs," and "a fleck of divine gloW in a dark world." The virgin was honored by the commu-nity as uniquely holy and pure "the way God is holy and Review for Religious pure." Christian virgins--not unique in the practice of virginity in the ancient world--were unique in embodying a permanent state of exclusive dedication to Christ. Virginity of this nature was unknown in antiquity. It was seen in the Roman Empire with suspicion and con-sidered a threat to both the family and the state. Christian virgins testified to their chosen state in life "with such passion that they were ready to die rather than renounce it" (Schneiders, 183). In fact, the women's choice of vir-ginity was a radical act of personal autonomy rare during this period in history. The nuptial metaphor was a par-ticularly effective declaration of a unique and influential status. These women were exempt from the social norm of being married to a husband "because they were already married--to Christ" (Schneiders, 183). The bridal meta-phor expressed the ultimate form of discipleship practiced by women. What was their role in the Christian community? Christian women virgins, then, had a highly sym-bolic presence and endowed an ecclesial community with a certain prestige. The sacredness of the human body bridged this world and the next. As the Roman Empire began to crumble, Christian virgins exemplified "conti-nuity in its most pure state" (Brown, 271), a certainty of the reality of the heavenly kingdom come. This distinct embodiment of a relationship with Christ witnessed to the certainty of eternal salvation in an uncertain world. The virgin's espousal to Christ was an embodied sacrality. The church's official recognition of this state of life abrogated the paterfamilias right and duty to arrange (or oblige) a daughter's marriage. This new and unique state of life testified eloquently to a spiritual intimacy with Jesus the Lord. Local churches welcomed them and honored a way of life eloquently embodying the holiness of God. 403 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Gbri~t" 404 Liturgical rites acknowledged their consecration to God as bride of Christ. Christian women who responded to this form of dis-cipleship were solemnly blessed by the bishop. Depictions of the "veiling of virgins" inscribed in the Roman cata-combs indicate that a blessing ritual designated the new status of a Christian woman now publicly recognized as a bride of Christ. Borrowing from Roman marriage customs, the bishop solemnly veiled the virgin in the assembly of Christians in the local church. Henceforth the bishop would be her special protector. The words of the episcopal blessing and the act of veiling conveyed the meaning of the ineffable mystery of bodily consecration to God. This was a singularly significant event for Christian communities immersed in the uncertainties of the declin-ing empire. To Christians the virgin's body heralded the future status of all the disciples of Christ who awaited a new heaven and earth where men and women "neither marry nor are given in marriage" (Lk 20:35). Christian virgins embodied the hope that "the things of the resur-rection stand at the door." Gradually the varying rites were compiled and pre-served in the Roman Pontifical. As the historical con-texts changed, consecrated virgins left their families and formed small communities of women. These evolved into monasteries and more recently into mobile apostolic reli-gious congregations. Consequently the theological rich-ness of the rite was obscured by romantic embellishments depending on the cultural context and ethos of the reli-gious congregation. So the revision of the Roman Ritual mandated by Vatican II occasioned the restoration of the ancient "Rite of the Consecration of Virgins" and the cre-ation of two others, the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women" and another for men (SC 80). These two new rites were to manifest a "more mature theology of the Review for l~eligious religious life and its connection to the mystery of Christ and the church." "Bride of Christ": A Timely Sign in Signless Times? How, then, does the "Rite of Religious Profession" incorporate nuptial imagery and remain linked to the ancient origins of the consecrated life? How does the new rite express the ineffable mystery of a bridal bond to God that surpasses maternity, paternity, friendship, and even discipleship? According to Schneiders (192), nuptial spirituality remedies "the ontological inequality" between the divine Jesus and the human virgin. "One of the most striking, not startling features of nuptial spirituality is the sense of equality with Jesus that the mystics express" (103). John of the Cross's Living Flame of Love and Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle employ nuptial images to express the union of the soul with God. Schneiders notes that Christian spirituality embraces nuptial imagery for men and for married couples, for example, the mysticism of the celibate John of the Cross, married mystics like Catherine of Genoa, and also St. Paul in texts referring to the church of Corinth (2 Co 11:2) (199). Since the religious life stands as "an abiding enact-ment" of the way of life of "the supreme consecrated one, Jesus Christ" (VC 22), the liturgy must convey this. This way of life itself witnesses to the church far beyond any apostolic service? The liturgy strives to enunciate the full meaning of this way of life. This meaning remains a challenge for religious today: the rediscovery of their life's symbolic and transcendent meaning.3 The rite deals with discipleship, communion of life, service, mission, witness, union with God. The parts--the Call, Examination, Solemn Prayer for Candidates, Words 6~.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Christ" 4061 of Profession, Solemn Blessing, Bestowal of Insignia-- announce and enact this "new and special consecration" (VC 31, RPW 22-77). True to the origins of consecrated virginity in the church, the Rite of Profession "begs God's grace for them by its public prayer and puts them in God's hands, blesses them and unites their offering with the Eucharistic Sacrifice" (RRP 1). But what signs signify the "special grace of intimacy of spousal communion which distinguishes this state in life from all others" (VC 16)? How does the rite "recall that wonderful marriage made by God which will be made fully manifest in the age to come, and in which the church has Christ alone for her spouse" (PC 12)? The inclusion of the Rite of Religious Profession in the Mass links it with essential life in the church. A short analysis of the rite can shed light on the bridal image of a consecrated woman disciple. The words of the Opening Prayer insert religious pro-fession into the heart of the mystery of the church. In the "Rite of Temporary Profession," the presider acknowl-edges that the Lord has "inspired our sisters with the resolve to follow Christ more closely," and he asks that "they may be able to offer you the perfect gift of their loving service" (RPW 286) In the "Rite of Perpetual Profession," the opening prayer praises God because "the grace of baptism has borne fruit in the lives of your ser-vants so that now they strive to follow your Son more closely" (RPW 288). Since these and other texts consis-tently refer to the candidates as "servants," both disci-pleship and mission are integral to the consecrated life. Similarly, ritual elements such as the Call, the Request, the Examination of Resolve, the Litany of the Saints, and the Act of Profession are reminders that religious profes-sion announces the Christian woman's resolve to embrace a way of life that makes present the risen Christ in history Review for Religious (VC 19). The candidates solemnly express their desire to publicly proclaim this radical form of discipleship (RPW 64). Their own words effect the transformation of their lives (Schneiders, 100). Words profess the invisible and ineffable mystery of this "new and special consecration" (VC 31). At this time the professed becomes a public sign and prophetic voice of the church as bride (VC 15,19). The liturgy endows the human word with the power to take baptismal consecration to the nth degree. Henceforth the professed stands for and in the eschaton: the great wedding banquet has already begun. The heavenly Bridegroom is here and waits to be met (Mr 25:1-13). Where, then, does the rite incorporate the nuptial metaphor? Bridal imagery that existed in the ancient "Rite of the Consecration of Virgins" was not dis-carded when the Roman Missal was revised. It was integrated into the rite along with the other two evangelical counsels, obedience and poverty. Canonically the religious life is a stable form of life which "manifests in the church the wonderful marriage brought about --- by God, a sign of the future age"; the consecrated person's "whole existence becomes a continuous worship of God in charity" (canon 607, ~1). And so the rite enacts the choice of Catholic women to live their baptismal consecration radically. The evangelical counsels manifest embodied chastity chosen for the sake of the kingdom, individual ownership renounced by poverty, and personal autonomy relinquished through obedience (PC 5,6). Religious profession announces the Christian woman's resolve to embrace away of life that makes present the risen Christ in history. 407 65.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Christ" 4O8 How and where is nuptial symbolism incorporated into the rite? The Liturgy of the Word offers various various biblical texts that express nuptial imagery. Nuptial imagery captured the intimacy between Yahweh and the Israelite community, particularly in prophetic literature. Hosea's voice echoes across the centuries bridging cov-enants: "I will betroth myself to you forever" (Ho 2:14). Similarly, Wisdom literature speaks of "Love as strong as death" (Sg 8:6-7) and the call of the beloved, "Rise my love and come" (Sg 2:8-14). Thus the word proclaimed awakens the memory of a vital relationship in the past that is to be enacted in the here and now of today. Nuptial themes are also evident in other elements of the rite. In the Request or Call, the presider asks the can-didates what they ask of God and his church. The reply, "We ask for perseverance in the following of Christ our Bridegroom in this religious community all the days of our lives" (RPW 59), links discipleship with the bridal image. After the public pronouncement of vows and the signing of the document of profession on the altar, the presider prays for God's blessing on the professed in the name of the assembly and praises God for this gift to the church (RPW 69,70). Nuptial imagery is woven into the text of the prayer as God is praised and thanked for the ancient covenant by which the human family was made "your bride radiant with your own likeness" (RPW 72). Then the new covenant in Christ is recalled and imaged in and through the church, which was formed "into his bride [and loved by him] with so great a love that he gave himself up for it" (RPW 72). The prayer concludes with an acknowledgment of God's loving wisdom: You have singled out many of your daughters to be disciples espoused to Christ and to receive the honor of his love. Holy Church shines with their rich variety, Review for Religious a bride adorned with jewels, a queen adorned in grace, a mother rejoicing in her children. Then the presider prays for the professed that they always be one with you in loving fidelity to Christ, their only Bridegroom . May they not fear him as their judge, but hear the voice of their Bridegroom lovingly inviting them to the wedding feast of heaven. (RPW 72) The words are followed by gestures and symbols that illuminate the invisible-to-the-eyes consecration. Depending on local custom, the professed are presented with a ring as "insignia of profession" (RPW 73). In Western cultures the wedding ring stands for this radical realization of the bap-tismal bond. As the ring is presented, the presider says: Receive this ring, for you are betrothed to the eternal King; keep faith with your Bridegroom so that you may come to the Wedding feast of eternal joy. (RPW 73) Nuptial imagery is reinforced as the choir and people respond singing: I am betrothed to the Son of the eternal Father, to him who was born of the Virgin Mother to be savior of the entire world. (RPW 75) Similarly, the "Rite of Temporary Profession" retains the ancient practice of the Presentation of the Veil to symbolize the new state of life conferred by the act of profession (RPW 34).4 The presider entrusts the newly professed with the veil, saying, "Receive this veil, which proclaims that you belong entirely to Christ the Lord and are dedicated to the service of the Church" (RPW 34).s Meanwhile the choir and people intone the refrain from the Song of Songs (3:3), "I have sought the Lord whom I love with all my heart" (RPV¢ 35, 36). The assembly echoes in song what is affirmed by the candidate and con-firmed by official representative of the religious congrega-tion. Distinct from the order of Christian virgins in the 4O9 65.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Cbrist" 410 early Church, this new and unique consecration is lived in community life, not in the privacy of a family home. Clearly, every element of the rite is "theologically expressive of the mystery and event being celebrated." Gestures and symbols act as visible signs of the invisible reality of interior consecration. The liturgy conveys the meaning of an ineffable experience "in such a way that it becomes accessible to thought." As already mentioned, by the 4th century the veil.(flammeura) had been brought into the liturgy from Roman wedding ceremonies. The velatio (veiling) of virgins signifies that the virgin's body is "conse-crated by the divine Spirit," "dedicated to the Lord," "con-secrated to God," "consecrated at God's altars.''6 The rite signifies a new relationship of the Christian woman with Christ and with the Christian community, mediated by the bishop, as 'representative of the local church. The new sta-tus of the Christian woman virgin, bride, and disciple of Christ always stood out in the ecclesial community.7 Thus, the chastity and the meaning of "bride of Christ" coincide in this rite's blend of baptismal conse-cration and radical discipleship. Lex orandi informs lex credendi and transforms lex vivendi. Our catechesis on the meaning of the "bride of Christ" has relied on the lit-urgy to illuminate the meaning hidden in shadows. The Christian woman religious is both bride and disciple.~ In the crisis of symbolism in Western cultures, the symbolic value of the veil, ring, or any distinctive form of dress fares badly. We

Issue 59.2 of the Review for Religious, 2000. ; Celibate .Chastity: A Symposium Religious Life Questions Witnessing Hispanic Catholic Report MARCH APRIL 2000 VOLUME 59 NUMBER 2 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call to holiness by making available to them the spiritual legacies tbat flow from the charlsms of Catbollc consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis Univers!ty by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: foppema@slu.edu Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP P.O. Box 29260; "Washington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2000 Review for Religious Permission is herewith gianted 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, arid copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~ 0 ]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 Barbara J. Soete SSND James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC MARCH APRIL 2000 VOLUME 59 NUMBER 2 con en s 118 131 139 c Oib te chastity: symposium Bowling Alone, Living Alone: Current Social Contexts for Living the Vows Mary Johnson SNDdeN couples the social context of community living with new possibilities for the meaning of the vows, particularly celibate chastity, so as to provide a radical gospel-based witness to countercultural values. Celibate Life Offers Insights Keith Clark OFMCap gives evidence that a celibate life well lived communicates to our culture a powerful message about the nature and meaning of sexuality, the unique nature of Christian marriage, and the motivation for the church's ministry. Discerning Our Celibate Way in Our Culture David L. Fleming SJ spells out some of the implications of discernment--making decisions with a lover's instinct--for living celibate chastity, which is defined as a way of loving. 148 156 What Is Religious Life's Purpose? Justin Taylor SM and Albert Dilanni SM question whether the basic purpose of religious life had been obscured long before Vatican II and still calls for clarity now. Must Hermits Work? Kenneth C. Russell provides insight into the place and value of work in the traditions of eremitical life in the Western church and draws some conclusions for today. Review for Religious 175 Mission: Not Do We Have One But Do I Live One? Rol~ert J. Murray OS~, emphasizes the need to live the valu'es reflected in mission statements for the health of the congregation. 180 188 The Easter Faith of Catherine of Siena Roland Calvert OSFS explains the paradox of Easter faith found not in Catherine's writings but in the activities of her life. Foucauld's Evolving Response tO God's Call Cathy Wright LSJ pictures the unfolding of the vocation of Charles de Foucauld and points to what it says to us about understanding our own vocations. 193 repor U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1999 Kenneth G. Davis OFMConv, Eduardo C. Fernfindez SJ, and Ver6nica M~ndez RCD present a panoramic of the year's events within the U.S. Hispanic Catholic community. 116 Prisms 209 Canonical Counsel: Location of the Novitiate 214 Book Reviews March-April 2000 116 ~e sometimes put more into preparing for a special event than we put into the actual celebration. We have been preparing during these past years to celebrate the new millennium--our efforts inspired by Pope John Paul II's Tertio Millennio Adveniente. Now that we have entered into the year 2000 we may find ourselves forgetful of the reason for our preparations. The bishops' conferences in many countries have identified various ways that priests, lay people, and religious may enter together into special celebrations that grace our liturgical year. Personally we are faced with the more day-to- day question: What are we doing to celebrate this jubilee year? First we need to recall for ourselves the obvious. What is this jubilee about? The heart of the jubilee year is our cherishing and rejoicing in the fact that the Word was made flesh, God became man, Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary, was born two thousand years ago. And our world has never been the same. Each of us is called anew to our following of Jesus. How well do we know him? Despite the frequency with which we are exposed to the acronym WWJD, do we feel confident in acting out our response to the question "What would Jesus do?" The very title we proudly bear--Christian--suggests that others can expect to see in us a face of Christ, his action, his love, and his forgiveness. Perhaps, first of all, we need a renewed effort in this jubilee year to foster our friendship with Christ. As we search out the ways helpful to us for growing in our knowledge and love of Jesus (for example, spiritual reading, Bible study, prayer, Eucharist, volunteer service projects), we may find that Jesus' reference to the jubilee text in Isaiah 61 as he proclaims his own mission in Luke 4:18-19 can become our entrance into a way of celebration: Review for Religious The spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord. The context for such a mission for Jesus and so for us is "to be anointed," "to be sent." The biblical concept of jubilee involves, above all, a call from God. As we make attempts to find ways that we can celebrate, more than rushing to take on pious devotions or vol-unteer ministries, we need to listen to the call of God in our life. A litde more reflection time--listening time--is a pervading essential of a jubilee year. Jubilee and sabbath are intimately connected since jubilee is God's expansion of the sabbath rest. But rest in relation to God is not defined as inactivity; rather, sabbath centers us on taking time for our relationship with God, for enhancing that relationship. In a jubilee time we respond to God's initiative in our way of cele-brating rather than assume the initiative ourselves. Our behavior, then, would be like Jesus'--who describes himself as sent. For Jesus, the initiative is always God's. Our celebrating jubilee begins with our taking the time to be a listener, our being available to God's initiative, our making the effort to enhance our relationship with God. Just as jubilee is related to sabbath, so jubilee is also related to Sunday, the day of Jesus' resurrection. Jubilee celebrates a new begin-ning: drawing on new reserves of resources (for those who feel empty and poor), seeking new visions (for those who are blind or in the dark), enjoying new freedom (for those who suffer from feeling lim-ited and bound). The jubilee ideal for the Israelite people was spelled out in such concrete actions as returning land to original settlers, setting free the slave or servant, and letting the land lie fallow. Every action looked to a newness of life, a renewed beginning. Jesus assumed this dimension of the jubilee ideal as his mission and gave it divine meaning in his resurrection. We, the followers of Jesus and the recipients of his Spirit, continue to follow his example as we cel-ebrate jubilee: we listen to God, we follow God's lead, we imitate Jesus, we act like Christians. Maybe a jubilee year !s a time for us to confound G.K. Chesterton's witty and yet poignant judgment: "Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has not been tried." Our celebration means that we determine to act like Christians, day in day out, all year long. Th~ world around us cer-tainly would be different. We would know a jubilee. David L. Fleming SJ 117 . March-April 2000 MARY JOHNSON Bowling Alone, Living Alone: Current Social Contexts for Living the Vows celibate chastity a symposium The meaning of the vows, sociologically speaking, is drawn from the human context in which they are lived. Sociologically speaking, their significance lies, not in interior inspiration and dedication, but in how they appear different from other ways of life and ways of liv-ing. Religious vows are liv~d in many social contexts. This discussion focuses on two of them, the societal and the communal. For the first, I shall turn to Robert D. Putnam's influential article "Bowling Alone: America's Declining Social Capital" (1995). For the second, I shall refer to the provocative talk given by Sister Doris Gottemoeller RSM at the Wernersville symposium in 1998 and later published in Review for Religious (March-April 1999) and to relevant data from my recent study of women's institutes in the United States. Mary Johnson SNDdeN, an associate professor of sociology at Emmanuel College in Boston, participated in the symposium titled "Celibate Chastity: God's Invitation to Love in a Sexually Confused Culture" held 22-24 October 1999 at the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth in Wernersville, Pennsylvania. This and the next two articles come from that symposium. In this written version Mary Johnson has refocused her original presentation, developing and broadening the topic in the light of the subse-quent papers and discussions. Her address is Sociology Department; Emmanuel College; 400 The Fenway; Boston, Massachusetts 02115. Review for Religious Bowling Alone Harvard Professo~ Robert Putnam, in "Bowling Alone," draws a riveting picture of the result of the loosening of communal bonds across U.S. society in the last thirty years. A commentary on his research in the Chronicle of Higher Education (Heller, 1996) notes that "scores of iournalists have picked up on the implica-tions." Policy makers and government officials, too, have listened to him. Putnam has twice been invited to the White House for brainstorming sessions on the breakdown of American communi-ties. Currently he is writing a book on the subject, doing cross-national research, and participating in workshops that seek solutions to widespread civic disengagement. Putnam notes that "American social scientists of a neo- Tocquevillean bent have unearthed a wide range of empirical evi-dence that the quality of public life and the performance of social institutions (and not only in America) are indeed powerfully influ-enced by norms and networks of civic engagement." He says that these norms and networks are elements of the "social connected-ness" that constitutes the social scientific concept of "social cap-ital." He defines the concept thus: "Social capital refers to features of social organization such as networks, norms, and social trust that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit." He continues: "For some reason, life is easier in a commu-nity blessed with a substantial stock of social capital. In the first place, networks of civic engagement foster sturdy norms of gen-eralized reciprocity and encourage the emergence of social trust. Such networks facilitate coordination and communication, amplify reputations, and thus allow dilemmas of collective action to be resolved. When economic and political negotiation is embedded in dense networks of social interaction, incentives for opportunism are reduced. At the same time, networks of civic engagement embody past success at collaboration, which can serve as a cul-tural template for future collaboration. Finally, dense networks of interaction probably broaden the participants' sense of self, devel-oping the T into the 'we.'" Putnam then provides a sweeping overview of the "declined" in social capital in the United States since the 1960s. He begins with politics. Putnam points out that, from the early 1960s to 1990, voter turnout has declined by a quarter in national elec-tions. Since 1973, attendance at town meetings has declined by a third. He states that decline is evident in studies of the numbers March-April 2000 Johnson ¯ Bowling Alone, Living Alone "attending a political rally or speech, serving on a committee of some local organization, and working for a political party." He comments on the loosening of bonds in nuclear and extended families and in neighborhoods. He continues by citing evidence of decline in religious involvement, labor union mem-bership, parent-teacher association involvement, and volunteer-ing in civic, fraternal, and women's organizations like the Red Cross, the Boy Scouts, the Shriners, the Jaycees, and the League of Women Voters. He states that, "after expanding steadily throughout most of [the 20th] century, many major civic organi-zations have experienced a sudden, substantial, and nearly simul-taneous decline in membership over the last decade or two." Putnam concludes this section of his article by referring to the metaphor in his title, which has become a symbol of the dis-integration of communal bonds in the society. He says: "The most whimsical yet discomfiting bit of evidence of social disengage-ment in contemporary America that I have discovered is this: More Americans are bowling today than ever before, but bowling in organized leagues has plummeted in the last decade or so. Between 1980 and 1993 the total number of bowlers in America increased by ten percent, while league bowling decreased by forty percent. The broader social, significance, however, lies in the social inter-action and even occasionally civic conversations over beer and pizza that solo bowlers forg6. Bowling teams illustrate yet another vanishing form of social capital." Putnam gives evidence of some countertrends: the rapid and dramatic rise in membership in certain groups like the Sierra Club, the National Organization for Women, and the American Association of Retired Persons. However, while the political clout of these organizations is considerable, the nature of involvement is vastly different from the organizations discussed previously. Putnam says: "For the vast majority of their members (Sierra, NOW, AARP, and so forth), the only act of membership consists of writing a check for dues or perhaps occasionally reading a newslet-ter. Their ties, in short, are to common symbols, common leaders, and perhaps common ideals, but not to one another. From the point of view of social connectedness, the Environmental Defense Fund and a bowling league are just not in the same category." Putnam identifies two other countertrends: the growth in non-profit organizations, and in support groups. But he argues that these do not fill the role that civic organizations do. He cites soci- Review for Religious ologist Robert Wuthnow's national, study of support groups: "Small groups may not be fostering community as effectively as many of their proponents would like. Some small groups merely provide occasions for individuals to focus on themselves in the presence,of others. The social contract binding members together asserts only the weakest of obligations. Come if you have time. Talk if you feel like it. Respect everyone's opinion. Never criticize. Leave qui-etly if you become dissatisfied. We can imagine that [these small groups] really substitute for families, neigh-borhoods, and broader community attach-ments that may demand lifelong commitments, when, in fact, they do not." Putnam has reflected on causes of and solutions to the breakdown of American communal life. He calls for reinventing community life, but, as an interview arti-cle in the Chronicle of Higher Education says, "the Internet will not do the trick. Nor will nostalgia for a vanishing America. 'Some people have interpreted what I have said as a nostalgic call to return to the 50s. That is not what I say.'" He continues: "It is not just social capital, period. It is social capital that cuts across the existing cleavages in American society. That is, it is not enough that we all start bowling again. There have to be bowling leagues in which people of different races are connecting with one another." He concludes his interview by asserting: "This is the single most important problem facing America. If we can solve this one, if we can get more people engaged in community life in contexts that respect American pluralism, many of our other problems--to begin with, our politics--will be different." Bowling teams illustrate yet another vanishing form of social capital. Beginning the Conversation Putnam's portrait of a society bowling alone has struck a deep chord in the national psyche of Americans. It has caused many to reflect on the fact that our democracy is dependent on a vibrant civic life held together by strong communal bonds. I would argue that Sister Doris Gottemoeller's article "Community Living: Beginning the Conversation" has had a similar effect. Her article has struck a deep chord in the religious psyche of Catholic sis-ters, causing many to ponder what community means to the way March-April 2000 12I Johnson ¯ Bowling Alone, Living Alone of life and mission of apostolic religious in this country. The com-munal bonds that Putnam studies appear weak in a variety of local institutions--family, neighborhood, civic organization, and the like. Both articles point us to a consideration of the quality of communal bonds in local communities of religious. The intent of Sister Doris's article is to "break the silence" about living in community. She believes that "community living may be the 'Achilles' heel' of contemporary apostolic religious life." She says, "Often the mere mention of the topic brings about an awkward silence, embarrassed dismissals, or defensive equivo-cations." She cites a number of reasons for the present silence about the discussion of community life and then raises six questions to begin the conversation: What are we talking about when we talk about community living? What is its theological basis? What can we say about a spirituality for community? What is the role of leadership in creating and sustaining community? What are some special challenges to living community life today? What can we do to renew our community life? I want to focus on the first question here since I believe that it is foundational to .further discussion. Without clear terminology, discussion can lose its way. Sister Doris offers this definition: "Community living is what happens when two or more people relate to one another in a significant, mutually beneficial, and ongoing way." She elaborates on what she means by each of these elements and then concludes that "we are tal~ng about good-faith efforts to live a principal value of religious life. With few excep-tions, it will include a common residence." Building the Structures I begin with Sister Doris's first question bechuse, while much of our rhetbric about ourselves refers to our life in community, I am not convinced that we have a commonly accepted definition. And our inability to arrive at such a definition has implications for ourselves and those who want to join us as sisters. A case in point: A front-page article in the Sunday New York Times (16 January 2000) discusses the efforts of the Sisters of Mercy of New York, New Jersey, and Brooklyn in using modern media tools (a Web site and an advertising campaign) to recruit a new generation of sisters. The article is illustrated with a graphic (recently sent to college campuses in poster form) that includes a catchy picture Revlew for Religious and caption. At the bottom are the words "Sisters of Mercy-- women religious who respond to God's call each day through ser-vice, prayer, and community life." This descriptive is similar to dozens of others used by con-gregations throughout the United States in recruitment efforts. My question now is: What do we mean when we promise new sis-ters community life, and what do they expect to receive when they come? Numbers of women interested in entering, and numbers of newer and not-so-new sisters as well, express a desire to live and pray and share household tasks and support for ministry with sis-ters under the same roof. That is their definition of "community." These women are neither statistically nor substantively insignifi-cant to the present and future of religious life. But it is clear that nowadays the definition of community is often being adapted to mean province life, congregational life, parish life, a circle of inti-mate friends, family members, prayer partners, support and prayer groups within congregations, coworkers, and national and inter-national groups. These broader (or narrower) definitions of com-munity are shared by other numbers of religious. This is a serious issue that has to be addressed. It is one more example of Putnam's finding that communal bonds that have united people to one another on the local level are disintegrating, even while new kinds of linkages are being established. This is not to say that people do not still espouse ideals. But, as Putnam found, they often do so in the abstract or at a distance, through periodic meet-ings, newsletters, or the Internet. But, we have to ask, is this level of engagement adequate to sustain a way of life and mission and to socialize the newer sisters, the majority of whom desire com-munal bonds within communities? This is also not to imply that the relationships with other groups are not important to and essen-tial for life and mission. But, as Putnam said about social con-nectedness, "the Environmental Defense Fund and a bowling league are just not in the same category." Similarly, a group of friends that meets quarterly, a prayer group that meets monthly, and a support group that meets weekly are just not in the same category as a community that lives under the same roof and inter-acts daily. Another question, whether the daily interaction of the community is life-giving, or death-dealing, is an important one, but a different one. Often the two questions are conflated, thus bringing conversation about community to a dead halt. ~larch-April 2000 Johnson * Bowling Alone, Living Alone The work of sharply defining and rebuilding community is essential to the mission and future of apostolic religious life in the United States and other nations where religious life struggles to free itself from the hegemonic hold of middle-class values. This effort is as radical as previous clear and unequivocal claims that the preferential option for the poor means the materially poor. Because many people were willing to work to prevent the word poor from being stretched to meaninglessness and the resultant loss of its prophetic power, we now have a new generation of young Catholics in the United States who claim, in a survey our research team recently conducted, that concern for the poor and the belief that God is present in a special way in the poor are essential dimensions of the Catholic faith (Dinges et al., p. 13). That work, of almost three decades ago, toward a clear and unequivocal def-inition of "the poor" has galvanized energy and commitment to the poor today, especially on the part of the young. In sociology there are dozens of uses for the term community. M1 members of the church, whether single or married, clergy or religious, find themselves embedded in all kinds of groups-fami-lies and parishes and prayer, work, neighborhood, ethnic, national, and international or global groups--which they sometimes describe as their "community." Those social networks will only increase and multiply in the years ahead as technology becomes even more sophisticated. The time seems to be right, especially in the midst of conversations about new forms of religious life, for a case to be made by those who believe that local community life with strong communal bonds is fundamental, not incidental, to apostolic religious life and its mission. This need becomes more acute in light of data given below, data I collected recently in my national study (funded by Lilly Endowment) of women's institutes in the United States. (The .publication of the data from the entire study is forthcoming.) Gathering data from apostolic, monastic, and evangelical orders, the survey was responded to by 70 percent of the women's institutes, institutes that represent 84 percent of the sisters in the United State~. The survey indicates that there are 18,052 com-munities (local houses). The vast majority are apostolic commu-nities. The unit of analysis here is the community, the local house. The table reads as follows: 49 percent of the religious houses in the United States have one sister residing in them, 20 percent of the houses have two sisters, and 9 percent have three sisters; 2 percent Review for Religious of the houses have more than 20 sisters residing in them. Community Size Percentage of houses Number of sisters 49 One 20 Two 9 Three 7 Four 4 Five 6 6-10 2 11-15 1 16-20 2 Over 20 Do these data surprise you? What explains them? How does your congregation compare? What has been lost and gained in this new configuration of houses? Surveying the sisters who entered religious life from 1966 to 1998--the post-Vatican II entrants, not a statistically or substan-tively insignificant generation--I asked the following questions. If you had your preference right now, with whom would you prefer to live? No one 8.8 percent An ecumenical group 0.7 percent An interfaith group 0.4 percent Married couple(s) 0.1 percent Single lay person(s) 0.9 percent Men and women religious 3.8 percent Sisters of my own institute 64.1 percent Children 0.2 percent Teens/young adults 0.1 percent Family members 0.3 percent Intercongregationally - 5.3 percent Combination of my sisters and one of the above 15.2 percent If you bad your preference right now, with how many sisters would you prefer to live? With none 11 percent With one other sister 14 percent With two other sisters 12 percent In a group of 4-7 sisters 45 percent In a group of 8-10 sisters 6 percent In a group of 11-15 sisters 2 percent In a group of 16-20 sisters 4 percent In a group of more than 20 sisters : 6 percent March-April 2000 ~obnson ¯ Bowling Alone, Living Alone Which of these data surprise you? What might explain these data? What further discussions do we need to have in light of these data? How do these issues of community relate to mission? What place does community hold in the life of apostolic congregations? Living in Community In light of Putnam's data, it seems that the creation of com-munal bonds is truly countercultural; that is, it goes against the prevailing value of social disconnectedness and weak, superficial, or nonexistent bonds among people and groups on the local level in the wider society. Countercultural living is one of the hallmarks of religious life. Can these issues be addressed in this light? One challenge to the conversation has to do with the social and communal contexts in which we live. The vows are not only lived within a wider society, marked by looser communal bonds and a religious life characterized by primarily monadic, dyadic, and triadic configurations. The vows are also lived against a hege-monic middle-class culture in which individualism, privatism, and materialism are cornerstones. Another challenge is the personal. Some sisters have had to move into various communal arrangements over the years because of ministry. But sometimes ministry concerns can serve to eclipse .any conversation about community. Some sisters have not been community builders or sustainers in the past. Can these issues be revisited again at this new moment? The challenge is compounded by the fact that many sisters holding key positions in the min-istries of leadership, formation work, vocation work, academia, pastoral work and counseling, national conference work, parish and diocesan work, congregational service, and so forth live alone. Can we be certain to include them in this conversation, even if we have sometimes avoided this issue altogether because they are our friends? Sometimes, when people do live with others, there seems to be a sense that, because of their work, the fewer persons living in the house, the better. Greater numbers of people are seen as deen-ergizing people for mission rather than energizing them. One hears gasps, even groans, when someone says that she lives with several sisters. Memories of the past rise up and seem to choke any attempt to talk about living with more than two other people, an arr.angement that might better accommodate needs of miriistry Review for Religious and hospitality, congregational responsibilities, household tasks, and the maintaining of "breathing room." Can we get to this level in the conversation? The inability to discuss some of these issues is all the more .troubling given the fact that the Catholic Church in the United States continues to grow. It now stands at 62 million people, the largest religious body in the nation, with 20 million of its members in their 20s and 30s. It is paradoxical that, as the church grows, the size of religious houses shrinks. At the same time, vocation and formation personnel continue to plead for more space for possible aspirants and newer sisters. Celibacy in Culture It is against the backdrop of these social and communal con-siderations that I present a brief overview of recent studies in human sexuality. The intended and unintended consequences of uncoupling the vows from community living (a phenomenon now several decades old) need, I' am convinced, to be analyzed regard-ing the mutual relationship each of the three vows has with com-munity. That is, how does celibacy shape community and community shape celibacy? How does poverty shape community and community shape poverty? And so forth. For the purposes of this symposium, we shall focus on celibacy. The studies in human sexuality point to new possibilities for the meaning of this vow: that, together with community, it can provide a radical gospel-based witness to countercultural values. Groups who live this vow well, sharing together the depth of a nongenitally expressed intimacy, give witness to one of the deep-est yearnings of this culture. The celibacy of a group gives proof to the whole society that its yearnings for intimacy can be ful-filled, that it is possible to love deeply and celibately and to do so together, without harsh lonliness. Celibate groups witness to the fact that the journey does not have to be made in isolation, that even this seemingly lonely vow is to be shared. Communities with strong communal bonds and deep celibate love witness also to a love that can cross the seemingly uncrossable social lines of gen-eration, race, and social class, to name just three. It is especially to the young that we must go with this news since they are the objects of so much manipulation about whom to love and how to love. Some of them say that because of this they are afraid to love. We, March-April 2000 127 - Johnson ¯ Bowling Alone, Living Alone whose public identities are so clearly tied to a unique way of liv-ing love, have a corporate responsibility to speak about what we have learned about love to a society paradoxically satiated by sex-ual excess and starved for intimacy. While no studies of human sexuality are perfect because of people's tendencies to overreport or underreport sexual practice, we can glean, from data collected in the following studies, some insights as to how to share the gift that has been given us. The first attempt at a systematic look at issues of human sex-uality was conducted by Alfred Kinsey. Considered a pioneer, Kinsey began his research in the 1930s, and his assertions stood for almost four decades. His work, however, was not without problems. He did not use a sample; he relied upon volunteers to serve as respondents, and so their responses were not representative of the population as a whole. In later years Masters and Johnson, too, used volunteers, involving their work in the same difficulty of being nongeneralizable. Nongeneralizable work can, however, provide important insights on other levels. Sociologist Lillian Rubin, in the United States in the late 1980s, interviewed a thou-sand people between the ages of thirteen and forty-eight about their sexual practices. One significant finding was that sexual activ-ity begins early among today's teens and that teen sexual practices are similar to those of adults. The National Health and Social Life Survey (NHSLS) of the 1990s was the first national scientific study of sexual practices. Rather than enlisting volunteers, it used probability sampling to find its respondents. A thumbnail sketch of some of the findings follows. First, there has been and increase in the level of pre-marital sex, especially among women. Over 95 percent of U.S. men and women getting married ~oday have been sexually active before marriage. One in five women have reported being forced to perform sexual acts against their will. The perpetrator was often known by the women; sometimes it was someone they loved, including their own husbands. On the other hand, only 3 percent of men reported that they had forced women to perform sexual acts. The researchers, struck by the gender gap, hypothesized' that the gap was due not only to underreporting by the men but also to their failure to recognize their behavior as coercive. The survey also found that 2.8 percent of men and 1.4 percent of women identified themselves as gay, lesbian, or bisexual. This Review for Religious stands in contradiction to the Kinsey report of 1948, wherein 10 percent of the population was estimated to be homosexual. Groups challenged the NHSLS findings, arguing that the percentages are too small. The research team responded by saying that, although larger percentages of gays, lesbians, and bisexuals are found in urban areas and in other enclaves in the United States, the survey findings reflect national, not local or regional, reality. The researchers analyzed their data according to religion and level of education. The Catholic data here indicate that the median number of sex partners since age eighteen was three. Thirteen percent of the Catholics had no sex part-ners in the previous year, 72 percent had one sex partner, 13 percent had 2 to 4 sex partners, and 3 percent had 5 or more sex partners. Which of the above findings surprise you? Which do not? How can discus-sions about sexuality improve our rela-tionship with and commitment to all of the people of God? Beyond these questions, it seems to me that further discussion on living the vows in community might be helped by the following questions: ¯ In light of the studies on human sexu-ality, how do we talk about celibacy and how do we support celibacy? ¯ What kind of norms and structures are in place in those communities which exhibit strong communal bonds? ¯ In those communities, how are the following values manifest: personal and communal prayer? celebration and mealtimes? ecological sensi-tivity? hospitality? concern for social justice and the poor? a sim-ple lifestyle? loving support? trust and joy? concern for the ministry and apostolic call of each sister~ fidelity to the call of the wider congregation and to the people of God? ¯ What are the forces, besides ministry or mission, that have pushed some people to live alone or live with their best friend? ¯ How can we resolve issues about community of the past so that we can move toward envision.ing community for the present and future? ¯ How can we unite our efforts to build strong commu-nities and to learn how to live together with the efforts of other groups, especially couples and families, who are also trying to How can discussions about sexuality improve our relationship with and commitment to all of the people of God? 129 March-April 2000 Johnson ¯ Bowling Alone, Living Alone r learn how to live together, to resolve conflicts peacefully, and to enjoy life together? ¯ How can we unite our efforts to balance ministry and community with the efforts of so many in the soci-ety who yearn for a healthier balance of work and family life? These conversations may not be easy becatise they will require crossing a major, though subtle, divide between those who see liv-ing in community as essential and those who see it as incidental. By not engaging in these conversations, however, we uninten-tionally contribute to negative effects on recruitment, retention, and mission. In the midst of wide-ranging and sometimes obfus-cating discussions on new forms of religious life, the voices of those who are committed to the radical gospel-values contained in the vowed apostolic life as it is lived in community have been eerily silent. Perhaps the time has come for many more sisters to break the taboo. References Dinges, William, Dean R. Hoge, Mary Johnson, and Juan L. Gonzalez Jr. "A Faith Loosely Held: The Institutional Allegiance of Young Catholics." Commonweal, 17 July 1998, 13-18. Gotternoeller, Doris, RSM. "Community Living: Beginning the Conversation." Review for Religious 58, no. 2 (March-April 1999): 137-149. Heller, Scott. "Harvard Professor Examines America's Fading Sense of Community." Chronicle of Higher Education, 1 March 1996, A10. Putnam, Robert D. "Bowling Alone: America's Declining Social Capital." Journal of Democracy 6, no. 1 (January 1995): 65-78. Many foreign missionaries depend upon people like you who donate subscriptions for them to Review for Religious. To start a subscription for a deserving missionary, please send $24 to: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Blvd. ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108 To pay by credit card, phone: 314-977-7363. Review for Religious KEITH CLARK Celibate Life Offers Insights poerhaps the most countercultural statement that will come ut of this conference is its title. This may be the only gath-ering that states boldly that we live in a "sexually confused cul-ture." My experience of the past twenty years suggests that an ever increasing number of people with backgrounds in an ever widen-ing array of disciplines have attempted to pronounce the last word in just about all areas of human sexuality. We sit here and suggest that our culture is sexually confused. Audacious! I have no "last word" to offer on the topic. The most recent word I have spoken to myself is this: I want to write to the Holy Father and ask him to change the discipline of mandatory celibacy as a prerequisite for presbyteral ordination in the Roman Church. My reason is this: The witness of a celibate life well lived is thor-oughly obscured in our society, in our church, by the assumption on the part of most that those who are committed to a celibate life have made the commitment reluctantly in order to achieve the status of ordination. Since ordination does not have that much status in the eyes of most people, there is little impetus to con-sider seriously either a celibate lifestyle or ordination. The thou-sands of women and men religious who are committed to a celibate life are somehow lumped with those who are assumed to be reluc-tant celibates for the sake of some other pursuit. Keith Clark OFMCap presented this paper at a symposium titled "Celibate Chastity: God's Invitation to Love in a Sexually Confused Culture," held in October 1999 at the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth in Wernersville, Pennsylvania. His address is St. Lawrence Friary; 301 Church Street; Mount Calvary, Wisconsin 53057. March-April 2000 Clark ¯ Celibate Life Offers Insights I would make my request of the Holy Father not because I think celibacy has no relevance to our culture, but rather so that the celibate life well lived will better communicate to our culture what our culture so desperately needs to understand. A celibate life well lived can communicate to our culture a powerful message about the nature and meaning of human sexu-ality, the unique nature of Christian marriage, and the motivation for the church's ministry. In order to live a celibate life well, a priest or religious must engage in prayer and ministry in a way that fosters that life. These are the points I intend to develop. The Nature and Meaning of Human Sexuality To understand the nature of human sexuality, we have to go beyond exclusive concentration on the study of genetic markers, synapses in the brain, and the other fascinations of scientific explo-ration in order to understand how human beings are moved to come together in a sexual encounter and commitment. My experience suggests that I am sexual on three levels. First, I know myself to be sexual on the biological level. I have a biolog-ical sexual apparatus which works. It is entirely instinctual. And ir works no matter how I understand or misunderstand it. My bio-logical sexual apparatus is clearly designed to bring me together with a female member of my species for the purpose of making other human beings. (See the Nova series program The Miracle of Life.) The impetus I receive from my biological level to come together with another human being is pleasure. Genital sexual activity is pleasurable. I identify this impetus as my biological sex-ual urge. It can be, and is, the subject of scientific inquiry. I know myself to be sexual on the biopsychological level. In most instances, this is experienced as being sexual in an emotional way. It is that amazing level of the human being which allows one's body to affect one's psyche, and one's psyche to affect one's body. The blush in the cheeks in response to embarrassment in one's psyche is possible because of our biopsychological makeup: In terms of my sexuality, the biopsychological level is that in me which allows some things to have sexual significance for me and which, therefore, stir my biological sexual apparatus. This is the seat of romantic interest. This level of sexuality is both instinc-tual and learned. I am born with the capacity to recognize some things as having sexual significance, and I learn some things that Review for Religious have sexual significance for me. I learn these things, not because somebody sits me down and talks to me, but because of the "minute displays of emotion" (Erik Erikson) which I pick up from my sur-roundings. What has sexual significance varies from one culture to another. (See the movie Walkabout.) The impetus I receive from my biopsychological level to come together with other human beings is emotional fascination. Romantic sexual activity is exciting. I iden-tify this impetus as my biopsychological sexual drive. It can be, and is, the subject of scientific inquiry, especially today, since this level includes one's sexual orientation. Most discussions of human sexuality stop after genital sexual urges and romantic sexual drives have been spoken about. These are the levels we humans share with the higher forms of animal life. Whatever else is said about human sexuality is frequently thought to be the in the realm of religionists and ethicists, taking the form of advice and instruction on how to ride the beast which has been described in considering the biological and biopsychological levels. But, even in the higher forms of animal life, there is another level: the level of sexual need. In the animal world, the sexual need is that the species continue. This sexual need instinctually regulates or moderates the activity of the urges and drives. The biological urges and the biopsychological drives of male dogs are activated only when the need of the species can be met, when there is in the vicinity a female dog in heat. It is filling this sexual need that gives meaning to all the sexual activity. At the level of sexual need, we human beings differ from the higher forms of animal life in two ways. First, we are spiritual beings, and our personal needs are not entirely subjugated to the needs of the species. We have also a personal sexual need, that is, our need for intimacy with other human beings. Second, in human beings the sexual need for the species and the personal sexual need for intimacy do not instinctually moderate our sexual urges and drives. Because we are persons (spiritual), we have an intellect and will. We must moderate our sexual urges and drives by insight and freedom, or they will not be moderated. Because the activity of our biological urges and our biopsy-chological drives is not instinctually moderated, human beings can engage in genital and romantic pursuits without any reference to the personal need for intimacy or the need of the species to con-tinue. Thus, people have invented contraception and abortion, which divorce sexual activity from the need of the species, and March-April 2000 Clark ¯ Celibate Life Offers Insights have invented free love and sexual promiscuity as well, which divorce sexual activity from the personal need for intimacy. The gratification of people's sexual urges and drives is accepted as ade-quate meaning for sexuality. "If it feels good, do it." Urges and drives impel people to behave in ways that will fill their sense of need. If the gratification of their sexual urges and drives alone brought sexual fulfillment, ours would be the most sexually fulfilled culture in the world. In fact, human sexual activ-ity can find its meaning only in the filling of the human sexual need for intimacy. Intimacy is the "simultaneous fusing and coun-terpointing of personalities" (Erikson). It is spirit touching spirit. It is allowed to arise in human life through the dynamics of self-awareness, self-disclosure, and listening in prayer. Among the ways those dynamics can be expressed are genital and romantic pur-suits. But, among married, single, and celibate people, intimacy can arise without genital and romantic pursuits. A celibate life well lived reveals this meaning of human sexu-ality. Celibacy is not merely abstinence from genital and romantic pursuits; that by itself will not lead to personal sexual fulfillment in intimacy. A celibate life well lived is the pursuit of intimacy, sex-ual fulfillment, in ways which do not include romantic and geni-tal pursuits. It is a way of loving people, not because I am urged or driven to do so because they have sexual significance to me, but because they are deserving of love whether they appeal to me or not. The celibate man or woman stands as a support to spouses in their pursuit of intimacy, whether at the moment the spouses are romantically driven or genitally urged or not. The celibate woman or man stands as a support to all people in their pursuit of con-nectedness with other human beings for reasons quite distinct from their attractiveness to us. The Unique Nature of Christian Marriage Although a celibate commitment is most often spoken of as a distinct contrast to married life, the two states of life are intimately related within the believing Christian community. The marriage of Christians is different from the way other people marry. Christian marriage is a sacrament because it is a vis-ible sign of what cannot be seen. Christian marriage is not merely a response to the genital and romantic feelings the spouses have for each other. The commitment of spouses to each other is a com- Review for Religious mitment to be there for each other for life, no matter what. It is a sign of how fully Christ has taken us all to himself. A celibate commitment is not a sacrament: it points to some-thing that can be seen, but might not be recognized for what it is. The celibate commitment points to what is unique in the com-mitment of Christian married couples. The committed celibate within the believing community asks all people to recognize the unique basis for Christian marriage. The Motivation of the Church's Ministry in the World A committed celibate life is a lifestyle, not a ministry. That lifestyle, however, points to that which is the basis of all church ministry. The church's ministry is caring for one another within the community and taking care of our world. It is based on the min-istry of Jesus, who said, "I have come, not to be served, but to serve." Church ministry to its members and to the rest of the world is not based on the driven components of human love, nor is it merely philanthropy called for by the needs people have. It is based on Jesus' commandment to love one another as he loved us. Again, the committed celibate life points to something that can be seen (the ministry), but might not be recognized for what it is. There is, accordingly, an argument from "fittingness" to be made for a celibate commitment in the ordained ministers who preside at our Eucharists and who order the church's ministry. A church might well want to select those who will lead and order our ministry from the ranks of those who say by their lifestyle, and not just their words and actions, that ministry is about loving people for reasons other than their attractiveness to us. Prayer and Ministry, the Sources of Strength for Celibate Living The great fear ] hear from young people is that a committed celibate life would be a lonely life, while marriage is a life filled with intimacy. I think that, in general, human lives are neither lonely nor intimate. Life has lonely moments and intimate moments. Married people stand ready to enter fully and vulnera-bly life's intimate moments, and to find God there concretely. Celibate people stand ready to enter fully and vulnerably life's lonely moments, and to find God there concretely. March-April 2000 . !36- ! Clark * Celibate Life Offers Insights Let me share with you my entering a lonely moment and find-ing God concretely. I was sitting in my office in Milwaukee, prepar-ing a continuing-education report for the provincial council. I began to daydream: I was before that council, not to give a report, but to receive a new assignment. I was being congratulated on my performance in the job I was leaving, and then the provincial asked me what job I would like to do next. I said, "I really don't care. But please, gentlemen, give me a job I can do well that will have some significance in your eyes." The daydream faded, and I sat at my desk pondering what I had heard myself say to the provinci.al council. I was not pleased with what I recognized. What I had said seemed rather mean and cheap. I wondered if the approval of others might be what moti-vated much of my behavior, or all of it! I could feel myself blush at this bit of self-awareness. I was surprised at myself, and I was having a difficult time accepting myself as I now knew myself to be. I felt very fragile. But I stayed with this line of thought and emo-tion, and seemed to reach an even greater depth, where I inwardly smiled sheepishly while disclosing to God who and how I was. At that depth I realized that God was not surprised at my motiva-tion. God had known it all along. It was news only to me! And I realized that God was not having a difficult time accepting me. God had for years accepted me as I was. There was a knock at my office door. I said, "Come in." It was Jeannie, supposedly my secretary, but really the one who runs the office. She was incredibly efficient and competent. I looked at her and, for the first time, wondered whether she sometimes felt as fragile as I did. If she did, I was much more open to accept-ing her that way. I was able to connect with her more intimately than I could have before. It was as if, with the mask of my own self-sufficiency stripped away, I could see beyond the efficiency (and self-sufficiency?) of another and get a glimpse of the perhaps fragile human being who lived there. It is not only this kind of self-awareness, self-disclosure, and listening in prayer that can bring a person to a moment of intimacy with God; so can ministry. Committed celibate persons can have as many moments of intimacy in their life as any married or single people can. There remains, however, a crack in the sidewalk that celibate people might trip on. I learned about this while visiting a couple to give them a chance to talk about a Capuchin they knew and loved who Review for Religious had suddenlY left the community with the intention to marry a young woman from town. As we were preparing to have a drink at their kitchen table, Don said, "I think you and my wife ought to go sit on the porch swing and talk for a while." So we did. Mary and I had talked for a short while about Ralph's departure when she said suddenly, "You don't belong to anybody, Keith Clark, and you never should! Ralph used to belong to all of us, but now he belongs to Jennifer." I thought often about Mary's observation, and I realized that the human desire to belong uniquely to another human being is a desire which will not be fulfilled in my life. About me no one will ever say "my husband" or "my father." And even if they say "my priest" or "my Capuchin," it does not ring true. I will never belong uniquely to any human being. And this is a void where I might fall. I need to fill ~hat void by developing my sense of belong-ing uniquely to God. I find I do this most readily in ministry. I learned a lesson from the full-sized red Hawthorne bicycle that my father gave me right after World War II ended. The bicycle was too large for me. My legs were too short for my feet to reach the pedals. My father put wooden blocks on both sides of the pedals, which allowed me to reach them. Even at the young age of six or seven, I knew that to have a new bicycle was very exceptional. The "war effort" had taken most of the steel available in the nation, and production of peacetime products like bicycles was just getting underway. I knew, too, that I was uniquely the object of my father's love. He did not buy other people a bicycle; other fathers in the neigh-borhood were not buying bicycles for their children. This gift from my father was unique. It took a few lessons from my father to get me up and pedal-ing. He would run alongside me, holding on to the back of the bicycle seat until I had gotten up enough speed to keep the bicy-cle from falling over. Eventually I mastered it. The bicycle stood up well to my use and occasional abuse of it. It lasted well into my newspaper-carrier days, when we added a large basket over the front wheel. I have thought of that red bike often. It taught me a lesson about gifts and how they are to be used and enjoyed. If I had let A committed celibate life is a lifestyle, not a ministry. 137 March-April 2000 Clark ¯ Celibate Life Offers Imigbts I used to think that God gave me gifts so I could do things for other people. that bicycle stand on the front porch to be admired but not used, I do not think I would have made my father very happy. If I had waited until I had a paper route before I used it, I think my father would have been disappointed. Even telling him over and over how much I loved the bicycle and how grateful I was would, I am sure, not have been enough to please him. He gave me the bicy-cle to use and to enjoy. It was a long time before I understood that the gifts I receive from God are much like the bicycle I received from my father. I used to think that God gave me gifts so I could do things for other people. I missed the fact that my gifts are unique and that they are a sign of God's unique love for me. For a long time I was afraid to enjoy using them. Now I allow myself to enjoy using my gifts. I can listen to people and can understand a lot of what they tell me. Sometimes I can even say the needed word, the right word, in response to them. It is a gift from God. Sometimes a seminary student coming to me for spiritual direction feels much better after we have talked. When he leaves my office, I realize that I was able to hear and understand him because of the skills and talents God has given me through my life's experiences. I know that no one else could have done for that student exactly what I did. Some people could have done more than I did; oth-ers could have done something different but equally helpful. But no one could have done just what I did. I sit back and enjoy what I have just done. Then I tell God, "Thank you," knowing I am loved uniquely. Culture and Counterculture These things could be more easily understood and more inte-grally and effectively practiced if we lived in a world of real mean-ing. Until such time as our culture moves into that real world, we continue to live our lives of celibate commitment as a "value radi-ation center" (Van Kaam) so that the values of the real world do not become completely obscured by the understandings and practices of the less-than-real world in which we and others unavoidably continue to live. Review for Religious DAVID L. FLEMING Discerning Our Celibate Way in Our Culture In this third presentation of the 1999 Wernersville symposium, want to gather together the themes of the two previous pre-sentations and then point out the work ahead of us. The topic I have been given has three clear parts, from the words contempo-rary culture, celibates, and discern. Our two previous presentations have clarified our understanding of the first two terms, culture and celibates. Let me highlight several points. Mary Johnson SNDdeN has given us a snapshot picture of our culture and its attitude toward chastity. She began by pointing out difficulties in making an assessment. We, along with other peo-ple, may be overly impressed by flurries of sound-bite judgments proffered by the media or by generalizations stated by pulpit ora-tors. "All college-age students do . " "In our country everyone. ¯." Trying to go beyond impressions towards what we call factual information, we find some security in statistics and in popular polls. But, even with a carefully constructed statistical study, there remains the difficulty of overreporting or underreporting, espe-cially if the issue is a delicate one, such as sexuality and sexual behavior. For example, when reporting sexual mores, it seems that men tend to exaggerate their sexual knowledge or activity because of a macho stance, and that women tend to be reticent about sex-ual activity because of fear, shame, or a sense of propriety. Johnson stressed that there have been three significant statis-tical studies Of sexuality and sexual behavior in the United States: David L. Fleming SJ is editor of this journal. March-dlrri12000 . Fleming ¯ Discerning Our Celibate Way the Kinsey studies in the 1950s, a much smaller but somewhat more sophisticated study at the beginning of the 1990s, and the apparently best-balanced report from the mid 1990s. From these reports we learn something about behavior patterns in our times. When certain reported behaviors surprise or shock our own sense of morality and that of our church, we must be careful that our first response is not to deny the evidence. Once we take note of that caution, what might we observe about the value and living of celibate chastity as reported in our contemporary culture? In the current U.S. culture, we have widespread evidence that sexual activity is no longer considered to be restricted to marriage. Because of the easy avail~ibility of contraceptive pills and condoms, sexual activity is no longer tied to the possibility of pregnancy; rather, it is considered just one more among desirable and plea-surable human activities. A more frightening result of this atti-tude equating sexual activity with recreational pleasure is the easy and frequent acceptance of abortion. We are not surprised that in the reporting of behaviors we note a true gender gap. Men readily report that the woman is a consensual partner, whereas women indicate that they feel pres-sured or coerced by the male. Statistics, then, provide evidence of a gender gap, especially in reading the other sex's behavior signals. In our culture there is a great deal of confusion around the terms intimacy and sexuality. Often the two are identified. But sex-uality can be acted out with little sense of intimacy. Intimacy, on the other hand, does not need to be expressed sexually. Young peo-ple, especially, are looking for intimacy and use sexuality as its mistaken route. Studies give evidence of this behavior pattern. What does celibacy or celibate chastity mean to people in our U.S. culture? It is evident that the celibate vocation is not esteemed or looked upon as a kind of ideal. Rather, in our times, it more readily signifies, especially for large numbers of young adults, sexual dysfunction or pedophiliac tendencies or stunted personality growth. We must be aware, then, that our contem-porary culture has little regard for chastity or celibacy. Its sign value has to be significantly rethought and expressed anew in order to be seen and understood for what it is and what we who live it want it to be. In his turn, Keith Clark OFMCap presented a contemporary picture of the meaning and living of chastity and celibacy. Chastity is the pursuit of consistent behaviors--for marriage, one set of Review for Religious behaviors, and for those professing celibate chastity, another set of behaviors. We need to look at the sexual makeup of the animal species, acknowledge the commonalities we have as human beings, and then carefully pay attention to how we humans go beyond the reproductive drive and mating seasons common to the animal species. We realize our human need for insight into sexual behav-ior and for our exercise of freedom in regard to it. Once again we note that there is the human need for intimacy and that this is not identical with genital activity. Clark stated clearly his notion of celibacy. "A celibate life well lived is the pursuit of intimacy, sexual fulfillment, in ways which do not include romantic and genital pur-suits." Celibacy as a Christian vocation means that we pursue a way of loving people, not because we are so urged or driven, but because people are deserv-ing of love. They are children of God. Both presentations stressed the importance of "norms" for appropriate behaviors in living celibate chastity in a community or group lifestyle. Cultures as large as an ethnic group and as small as a particular religious congregation have developed their own parameters for acceptable behaviors in connection with the affectio~is. These cultures get expressed in norms that guide the consistent behavior of group members. Members of a group have a responsibility to observe the norms expected of participants. We who live celibate lives as members of a priestly order or as members of a religious congregation need to have norms that are agreed as guides for the behavior expected of the whole group. After looking at our contemporary culture with the help of Johnson and getting, with Clark's guidance, a sense of a con-temporary expression of lived celibate chastity, we focus now on the word discern, which is meant to be the connective between the two terms. How do we discern the living of celibate chastity in our culture? What is it to discern? I believe that celibacy, properly under-stood, has a necessary connection with the ability to discern. Celibacy or celibate chastity understood in a Christian manner is a way of loving, a way of relating to others. It is not enough to Members of a group have a responsibility to observe the norms expected of participants. March~April 2000 Fleming ¯ Discerning Our Celibate Way say that celibacy means not being married or that to be chaste means just not engaging in or enjoying sexual activity. It is not enough to equate celibacy with a certain ritual purity. To limit our chastity ideal to these kinds of description fixes us in a pagan or pre-Christian understanding. Sad to say, many older explanations about the vow of chastity, and some contemporary ones too, could well have been written by a good pagan. Celibacy cannot be ade-quately defined in terms of what it is not or what it lacks. Celibacy is understood and lived in terms of what it is and does. Celibate chastity describes a way of loving, loving the way that Jesus loved. Because celibacy is a way of loving, there is a true sense that we are always growing in our life of loving celibately. We cannot lose our chastity; we never "had" it so that we could lose it. We are always growing into being a chaste lover, a lover like Christ. We grow in our loving chastely, or we find ourself becoming less of a chaste lover. We make choices of behaviors that enhance our life-direction (which is meant to be a growing more and more to love as Jesus loves), or we find ourself slipping (all too humanly, through selfishness or focus on self) into more and more limited ways of loving. We do not need to be a loving person to make a decision. Individualism rampant in U.S. culture is the seedbed of a lot of decision making. Even in religious life we sometimes hear glowing reports about the new growth in our understanding of the vow of obedience based on human decision making. We say that we have moved from a kind of infantile dependence to a relationship where authority's only role is to support the individual's decision. Yet, if we understood how obedience and chastity are intertwined, and that discernment is not possible where love is not involved, then we might not be so self-satisfied with our own share in the indi-vidualistic decision making often observable in religious life. Evaluated from a religious point of view, personal decision making is not deserving of praise if love of God has had no play in it. Discernment and obedience can be understood and practiced only by one who loves. Perhaps questions about authority/obedience are more about the love quality of religious life than about respon-sible decision making. When people make decisions about sexual activity, they can decide to use this person for their pleasure. They can decide that treating someone in this sex-object way is what pleases them. What they want to do and what feels good decides their choices in this Review for Religious typical American individualistic stance. People live as though they are the center of their world, and this stance acts as the foundation of their choices. In order to discern, however, we need to be a loving person, one who lives in an expansive (always open to other people's inter-ests) world. People who are caught up in an individualistic way of thinking and acting are incapable of making a discernment. Why? Because discernment is a sensitive listening to God speaking to us through interior movements, that is, feelings and inspirations. Discernment is a lover's instinct. Probably most of us have had the expe-rience of this kind of interior commu-nication between ourself and a close friend. No words are spoken, but a lot gets communicated. When persons are dear to us, we know what pleases them and what annoys them. We listen, not to any externally spoken words, but to the person, and we can respond instinctively--if we are people who love. ls this kind of sensitivity, so familiar to us in our human loves, possible between God and ourself?. In the Judeo-Christian tradition, it has always been recog-nized that discernment is a gifting of God. St. Paul identifies dis-cernment as a special gift to members of the Christian community through Christ's sending of the Spirit. A number of holy men and women have shared their insights into the gift of discernment, how to pray for it, how to grow as a discerning person, and how to make a decision-making process a true discernment. St. Ignatius Loyola especially is renowned for the practical application of dis-cernment procedures for an understanding of What spirit is mov-ing us and for a method of coming to a decision through such a discernment of spirits. Discernment is about making practical life-dealing decisions not just with prayerful prudence, but with our will attuned to the will of God our Father. We are trying to love the way Jesus loved. Jesus prayed a lot; he prayed in order to deepen his relationship with God and so to express his love. The dialogue of prayer is a dialogue of love. Prayer is not discernment, but without prayer there is no discernment. Why? Because discernment is a grace given to a lover. VCe see it clearly in Jesus. Discernment marks Jesus' choices. In the crisis moment in Gethsemane, Jesus in agony Discernment remains always a gift, a growing in a lover's sensitivity. 143- Marcia-April 2000 Fleming ¯ Discerning Our Celibate Way pours out his prayer and in love can say, "Not my will, but yours be done." One who loves has a sense of, a feel for, what pleases the one who is loved. To be a discerning person means that we must be a free person: free of self-will, free of prejudice, free of being locked into doing what is expected (to be accepted, to save face, and so on). We see this freedom in Jesus. Discernment remains always a gift, a growing in a lover's sensitivity, just as Jesus grew in his sen-sitivity to his Father's will up to the end: "Into your hands, I com-mend my spirit." In other words, we never just "have" discernment, as it were, as our possession. We need always to acknowledge dis-cernment as a dynamic grace or gift. As Jesus' special gifting of the Spirit to us, his followers, discernment is always to be rever-enced, esteemed, and lived in our choices. Discernment affects our living of celibate chastity on three levels: (1) the body or the physical, being at home with our sexual makeup; (2) the soul or the psychological, being at home with our affections; and (3) the spirit or the spiritual, being at home with God. Let me develop each of these levels. 1. As people who are trying to love as Jesus loves, we need to love our own incarnation, that is, we must love our own bodili-ness. Acceptance of our sexuality helps us to be like Jesus. For Jesus was sexual and celibate and a man who loved. Jesus is so much at home with his body that he keeps it with him forever. And that is his promise of resurrection for us. To be at home with our body, then, is a Christian attitude to grow in and to deepen. We make the choice to love the body that God gave us. In our culture we know how much we try to run from or deny the failings connected with bodiliness, for example, the whole process of aging. With a cul-ture that wallows in sexuality, especially its genital aspects, we may think that our countercultural stance should be to run from or deny our own sexuality in order to bd the good celibate. But our Christian viewpoint sees sexuality and the way it shapes our relat-ing and our loving, all our life long, as a gift of God to us. Living in gratitude for God's gift, we find that being at home with our own body is the only way for us to love as Jesus loves. 2. We celibates must also be at home with our affectivity. There is no such thing as loving in the abstract; we love the flesh-and- blood people that come into our lives. To love in general is not to love at all. Yet, when we try to love the people that God brings into our life, we find difficulties with the way they dress, the way they talk, even the way they sexually attract us or not. I have always Review for Religious admired the healthy quality of the bawdiness found in Chaucer or in Shakespeare as representative of the peoples of their times. We--especially people vowed to chastity--need to laugh at our affective responses sometimes so embarrassing to us and so little under our control. We may even be surprised at a sexual response we feel in prayer or even at communion time. This is the moment to recall that we are God's creation, enfleshed, with all its humor, distress, and bedazzlement. We thank him for being the ones in whom he delights. We need to give over anew the whole of our life to God and so not let our discerning focus get distracted on self. Always we as celibates--a unit of body, soul, and spirit--need to own and not to deny our affections. We must be in touch with how affective or not we are naturally, from family upbringing, community customs, and ethnic culture. Whatever the limits of what we have inherited, we--growing by the grace of our celibate calling as sensitive lovers--gradually learn how to make various appropriate adaptations. Does Jesus ever seem frozen in the face of others' affective love, whether expressed by Mary Magdalen or by the beloved disciple? Think of John lean-ing on Jesus' chest at the Last Supper or of Mary Magdalen's fierce bearhug in the resurrection garden scene. Growing always in a lover's sensitivity is especially to be valued by a vowed celibate who desires to relate affectively to all. Married couples teach each other how to make love all their lives long. We as celibates must keep our eyes on Jesus in order to keep growing in our way of loving. Our prayer should lead us deeply into the Gospels so that Jesus keeps teaching us how to love. Our being affective people, or not, affects our ministry. In fact, there is little exaggeration in saying that ministry without. affectivity is useless in terms of evangelization. We may be able to do "good things," but for what.purpose if we do not touch peo-ple with love from a God who is Love? 3. We Catholics are fortunate because we understand that God loves us in affective ways. Our Scriptures, our sacraments, our prayers speak out God's way of loving us in the most tender of human expressions. Even more, God loves us in intimate ways. This good news we bear in our very persons as loving celibates: We as celibates must keep our eyes on Jesus in order to keep growing in our way of loving. March-April 2000 Fleming * Discerning Our Celibate Way God wants to be intimate with us. Our spiritual life is a life of love, intimate love with God. Two examples from Scripture bring this fact home to us. I am indebted to the late Father Carroll Stuhmueller CP for his long-time insistence on the meaning of the Hebrew word rahamin. In the Old Testament, especially in the prophetic writings, God is often described in English translation as merciful, tender-hearted, or compassionate. These words attempt to signify the meaning of rabamin. The Hebrew word seems best understood in this way: the feeling that a mother has for the child in, and of, her womb. God wants us to know that the relationship he has to each of us is like the feeling a mother has for the child of her womb. What is this feeling? Is it pity or mercy? No, it is one of pride and 10ve for the child of the womb. That is how God feels towards us. God loves us and takes pride in us. We cannot deny the intimacy of this Hebrew word. That kind of intimacy God claims towards us. We celibates are meant to find a home in this love. In a more theological way I would like to reflect upon the word covenant. Perhaps we are familiar with the covenants of Middle Eastern people of whom the Israelites were a part. A covenant is an agreement between two parties (usually unequal), and the expectation involves certain ways of acting toward each. Covenant is a central theme of the relationship between God and his chosen people. The biblical covenant that God established was marked according to the Semitic cultural tradition by the ritual of killing an animal and sprinkling its blood upon the altar (rep-resenting God) and upon the Israelite p.eople. The blood was a symbol of life, not death; the sprinkling of blood on the altar and on the people signified the familial union. The action said: We share the same blood. When Jesus on the night before he died wanted to establish a new covenant, he retained the same symbol: blood. But it is his own blood that Jesus gives, his flesh for our food and his blood for our drink. This blood is life-giving and makes us who feed on his Body and his Blood belong to the same bloodline as God. Jesus could not make it any clearer that we truly are brothers and sisters to one another; we share the same blood, Jesus' blood, the blood of the Son of God. We call upon Jesus truly as our brother, and together with him we call God Abba-Father. The reality of this new covenant is an intimacy of unity, Jesus God bringing us into the very life of the Trinity. As celibates, day after day in our Review for Religious Eucharist we come forward with hands stretched our to receive and to be taken in by the most intimate love of God, a God embracing us into the divine life of love. What distinguishes us who are called to a life of celibate chastity? We are called to a special way of loving. When we celi-bates are truly at home with our bodies (with our sexuality), with our affections (with our soul), and with our spirit (God's Spirit, now ours), we are free to be the discerning people who, in a sex-ually confused culture, live God's invitation to celibate chastity peacefully, happily, and apostolically. The Silence That Is Not Silence at All Unobtrusive as dawn, the lake balances perfectly between East and West. An early hiker rounds the corner, headset clamped on. Juncoes tsk tsk and give way. Starlings catcall. Merganser, all white hood, skims a straight arrow line, alights with a velvet swoosh pursues prey through clear water soundless. Lichen stained alders circle the shore, haloed with smudges of alizarin catkins. Aments upon aments. A Lent retreatant, I come for the annual fast from stimulation, rededicate to silence or at least to the diminishment of stimulants. Make way for tumult. Here are the Big Ego geese. Indignant honking, they want to be noticed. Chest beating, a squall of identity. Hannah J. Main-van der Karnp March-April 2000 147 --- JUSTIN TAYLOR AND ALBERT DIIANNI What Is Religious Life's Purpose? For thirty-five years since Vatican Council II, we have constantly ?asked questions about identity: What does it mean to be a religious, a monk, a Dominican, a Jesuit, a Marist? It might then seem superfluous to ask about the purpose of religious life. But it is our conviction that pre-cisely this question must receive a more adequate answer before we can come to proper conclusions about how to structure our religious life and truly renew its spirit. The main goal of religious life is to place God at the center of our lives. That is the meaning of religious consecration, and it is best symbolized in the vow of chastity, in which we make a gift of our very hearts to God. Religious consecration is all about the service and worship of God, about affective and effective love of God for God's sake. Religious life is a way of being with ¯ God that takes the form of a gift and an act of worship. It evokes the image of St. Francis lying prostrate on the ground throughout the night calling out repeatedly, "My God and my all,." In other words, religious life needs to Justin Taylor SM, a Marist priest from New Zealand who resides at the Ecole Biblique in Jerusalem, does teaching and writing on biblical topics and on spirituality. Albert DiIanni SM wrote for us in 1993 and 1996; his address is Marist Vocation Office; 27 Isabella Street; Boston, Massachusetts 02116. Review for Religious be religious, and this means that it must be theocentric. Religion can be about many things, but first and foremost, as Hegel said, "religion is about God." This may seem to go without saying. But we are saying it and stressing it because we all tend to substitute something else for the love of God. Nothing else will do, not even love of neighbor. The question we ask is: Have we not, long before Vatican II and after it as well, tended to substitute--for a focus on the glory and love of God--either a personal ascetical spirituality or a social morality? We grant, of course, that both morality and asceticism find their place in religion, but we maintain, too, that religion cannot be totally or even primarily reduced to them. Could it be that this tendency to substitute something for religion--whether it be self-improvement or the improvement of other individuals, society, and the world--is what underlies the malaise we currently perceive in religious life? We stress that this problem does not arise out of Vatican II. It already existed before Vatican II and may have caused what the council had to say about religious life to be misunderstood. It is a problem that lies deeper than the distinction between traditional-ists and so-called "change-oriented" religious. Both of these groups, as we shall see, may have given way to the very same error. In her recent book The Fire in These Ashes, Joan Chittister insists that the sole purpose of religious life is "only to seek God" (p. 45). She writes: "We have too often been seduced., by other explanations for religious life, all of them valuable and all of them true to a certain degree. We have sought to be 'relevant.' We have set out to be 'incarnational.' . We have given ourselves untiringly to the 'option for the poor.' We have devoted our-selves to 'the transformation of social structures.' We have evan-gelized and renewed and revised and reformed until we dropped from exhaustion. And all of those commitments are good and necessary and worthy of attention. But, through it all, one thing and one thing only can sustain religious life, can nourish reli-gious life, can justify religious life: The religious must be the person who first and foremost, always and forever, in whatever circumstance, seeks God and God alone, seeks God and God alone in all of this confusion, in all of this uncertainty and, what-ever the situation, seeks God--and God alone." She concludes: "Otherwise, religious life is just one more social institution to be succeeded by social institutions after it, rather than centers March-April 2000 149 Taylor and Dilanni ¯ Reli~ous Life's Purpose of contemplation where, we can hope, the mind of God can touch the mind of humanity" (p. 47). "A center of contemplation where the mind of God can touch the mind of humanity"--is this not a beautiful definition of reli-gious life? For Joan Chittister, contemplation of God is the pri-mary center and focus of religious life. But she is not thinking of a selfish, isolated sort of contemplation cut off from society or the world. Rather, for her, contemplation of God has an effect upon the mind of humanity, changes it and urges it to become engaged in the task of approximating the kingdom of God on earth in works of peace and justice, especially in favor of the poor and the marginalized. This call to contemplation, which is now being stressed by many authors, indicates that the crisis of religious life is deeper than people think. It is rooted in a crisis of faith. By this we mean that there has been a change not only in the depth and intensity of our faith, but also in its actual content. And this is hardly new. It has been present in the church for a long time, as attested by Henri Bremond in his Histoire litteraire du sentiment religieux en France, a magisterial eleven-volume study of mysticism in France in the 17th century. Bremond did not write with a view to commenting on religious life in the 20th century, but his volumes are full of relevant insights. Bremond (an ex-Jesuit turned diocesan) keeps coming back to one particular issue: Why, throughout the period of which he writes, was the Jesuit mainstream in France especially, antimystical? Why, with the notable exception of Louis Lallemant and his school, did the Jesuits begin to focus their spirituality more and more away from God and more and more toward the human? In the course of his writing, Bremond suggests some more or less peripheral reasons, but in the end he expresses a suspicion that the Jesuits, even in the 17th century, were intuitively sensing a crisis of faith. They were sniffing the presence of an incipient atheism in their contemporaries and perhaps in their own hearts. They were beginning to fear, at least subconsciously, that the pure love of God as the chief reason for a devout life was not going to motivate people of their time and place much longer. This, suggests Bremond, is the reason why they felt the need to recommend prayer not so much as adoration and thanksgiving before God, but especially as a means of growth in virtue, a means to inoral and ascetical self-improvement, a way to ensure one's personal eternal salvation. Review for Religious It is clear that this crisis of faith is not restricted to the Society of Jesus in the time of which Bremond writes. The same crisis has continued in a perhaps even stronger fashion in the 20th century. Both before and after Vatican II, religious have tended to recom-mend religious life to the world--and perhaps to themselves--in terms of what it could "do for" themselves or for others. Religious life was considered legitimate and desirable because it was useful, however that usefulness might be conceived, whether in terms of a surer way for the individual to attain tleaven or in terms of a service to society. Both of these stances, however, place religion and religious life on a less-than- full theocentric plane. Viewed in this way, the crisis of faith did not begin in the post-Vatican II era. It was in full swing well before the 1960s, but at that time social and ecclesial structures and a gen-eral feeling of success (at something) kept people going. Once those supports were taken away or seri-ously weakened, its real proportions were revealed. It has been said that, before Vatican II, religious used to "skip the world" and focus too heavily on our individual other-worldly salvation. This is a legitimate criticism if properly understood. To the extent that there was overemphasis on our individ-ual otherworldly salvation, religious life was already ¯ anthropocentric or egocentric, and not theocentric. For a program of self-improvement, even in view of obtaining eternal life, is not specifically Christian, but broadly Stoic. The concentration on obtaining eternal life even became obsessive for a number of people, and priests in confessionals encountered peo-ple so absorbed in themselves and their salvation that they became paralyzed by scrupulosity. For this and for other reasons, an under-standable dissatisfaction set in with regard to a form of devout life whose focal point was one's own perfection. Unfortunately, however, the remedy that was often prescribed compounded the ailment. In line with the self-improvement ten-dencies, the constitutions of many religious congregations before Vatican II propounded a twofold goal for religious life: saving one's own soul and saving the souls of others. After Vatican II, the notion of salvation was expanded beyond an eschatological salvation to include also, and at times almost exclusively, the liberation of peo-ples or the social betterment of humankind. Neither of these This call to contemplation indicates that the crisis of religious life is deeper than people think. I51-- March-April 2000 Taylor and Dilanni ¯ Religious Life's Purpose focuses, however, whether on personal improvement and salva-tion or on social liberation, is properly religious in the sense of having to with the worship and love of God. Neither of them makes God the pivotal center of our lives. If this is true, where should we seek the remedy? If there has been a shift in our faith in this century and before, what then should be the content of our faith? We believe that the religious hunger is ultimately the hunger for transcendence or, more con-cretely, the hunger for God. It is a hunger which, in fact, is often felt most keenly by the poor. The world points to something beyond the world: its Author. Our first response to the world must be gratitude toward the author of that world--paying homage to God. Religious are called to be involved totally with God, to be bridges to others to enable them, not to negate this world, but to transcend it and reach God. The world is extremely important-- the Word became incarnate for the sake of the world--but in itself it is still not enough for us, us of the restless heart. In whatever manner we decide to refashion religious life, we must not lose this central insight, which is at the heart of the religious quest. The "kingdom of God" promoted by the Jesus of the synoptic Gospels certainly demands an effort on our part to improve the world, but it also involves a transcending of the world, and this transcen-dence will consist, as always, in union with God. In fact, without such a reference to the Transcendent, it is questionable whether an urgency to improve the world has sufficient meaning. Again, with Joan Chittister, "The religious must be the person who., seeks God, and God alone" and--we could add, with Vita consecrata (§3, §20)--helps other members of the church in their search for God. It is in this latter task of spurring others on to transcendence that some form of identifying religious garb has its importance. St. Thomas Aquinas asks why religious congregations are called "religious." Our reflections thus far have perhaps prepared us to understand and receive his answer: "Religion is the virtue by which we perform the service and worship of God. Hence, reli-gious are so called because they dedicate themselves totally to the service of God, as if offering God a whole-burnt sacrifice" (Summa theologiae, 2a-2ae, q. 186, a. 1). Here Thomas speaks of a "virtue of religion," a kind of habit. This habit of mind, heart, and action has to be part and parcel of every genuine approach to God, for it is basically about awe in the presence of the "tremendous and fas-cinating mystery." "This tremendous lover" is what Francis Review for Religious Thompson called Christ, and the adjective is striking. It refers to a lover who fills us not with fear but with awe. Our response to God is one of wonder, adoration, and gratitude in the face of a Love that bends down to us, a love that is gratuitous and that we did not merit. What makes religious life distinct from other forms of Christian life (granted that there is no complete cut-off, but many a gradation) is that it is a way of life which is organized and centered on the.service and worship and love of God and which would make no sense on any other terms. From a worldly point of view, it might even be called a useless life; it is worthless except to the eyes of faith. We believe, with Vita consecrata, that chastity is at the heart of the matter. Chastity is the baseline of religious consecration, not primarily a way of being freed for ministry, although it is also that. Through it we consecrate to God our hearts and our sexual-ity, our capacity to love and be loved, and our capacity for repro-ducing ourselves and so assuring a sort of afterlife. It is therefore the point at which the service and the love of God meet in the center of the consecrated person. Religion, as a virtue, is not the same as charity, so that serving and worshiping God are not specifically the same as loving God. But the two are very close, and both are needed. Without love, religion quickly becomes fanaticism; without awe before God, love can be too facile and presumptuous. In the golden age of French spirituality in the first half of the 17th century, the great masters differ a little on where they place the emphasis, St. Francis de Sales placing it on love and Pierre de B~rulle on religion. In any case, they agree that religious life is essentially theocentric. St. Thomas's "whole-burnt sacrifice" strikes the note of throwing all of oneself into a life given to God in a fire of generosity. Abandoning calculation and self-service, a person stakes all on the single-hearted quest of God, and God alone. That is a goal in the pursuit of which a life is well lived and the world well lost. The above remarks raise at least two questions about love of God which require some discussion. We are speaking of a "pure love of God." But is it possible to love God selflessly, for God alone, and not for ourselves? Not in the sense that I could leave myself totally out of any act of the will: whatever I will, I will also as my own good. But it is possible in the sense that there can be a degree of selfless love in an act of the will, and that this selfless love can grow in future acts. In praying I make all sorts of different March~April 2000 Taylor and Dilanni ¯ Religtous'ous L~Life's Purpose "acts," including petition for myself and others. But what makes prayer (any prayer) true prayer, and love of God true love, is that overriding everything else is the love of God for God's sake, the willing of God's good, and the ultimate submission of my will to God's. And that is "pure love." Note that this is not something rare and extraordinary. Selfless love is part of every authentic human love. It is part of the Lord's Prayer, where we say: "Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done." In any genuine human love, I will love the beloved without thinking of my own good and even, at times, to my apparent detriment. M1 lovers would deny the name of "love" to a mere desire to get their own satisfaction. In every true love there is selfless devotion toward the beloved, that is, "pure love," some-where. And selfless devotion, it seems, has always been the touch-stone of a religious life properly lived. The second question concerns the relation between the two commandments of love of God and love of neighbor. Above we wrote that not even love of the neighbor can be substituted for love of God. Love of the neighbor does not replace love of God; it does not even, strictly speaking, express love of God. God is to be loved for God's sake. On the other hand, love of the neighbor is the acid test of the genuineness of our love of God. St. John's for-mulation could not be bettered: "Those who say, 'I love God,' and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen cannot love God whom they have not seen" (1 Jn 4:20 NRSV). To remove all excuse for illusion on this topic, the Letter of James (2:15-16 NRSV) affirms th~it a mere sentiment of goodwill is not enough: "If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace, keep warm, and eat your fill,' and yet you do not supply them their bodily needs, what is the good of that?" If love of the neighbor is not a substitute for love of God, the reverse is also true. Loving God does not give us an excuse for not loving our brothers and sisters, really and concretely. Christians are called to live for the glory of God and not pri-marily for their own good, not even for their own salvation here or in eternity. The emphasis has to be on the primacy of the love of God. The truth is, however, that the more genuinely we love God, the deeper and more effective will be our love of neighbor, especially the poor and the unloved. The great lovers of God--that is to say, the saints--have been those who have done. most in the Review for Religious way of love and service of their brothers and sisters. There is no risk that following the call to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind will distract us from serving others or from working for justice in the world. Rather, when we go to God, we find One who loves justice and who is on the side of the poor and the weak. This God demands that we too pursue justice and come to the aid of the needy. In loving God we go outside of ourselves in a radical way. We encounter the transcendent Being who loves the created world and invites us to become active within it. There is no competition between the two commandments of love, but rather reciprocity. If love of the neigh-bor is the acid test of love of God, love of God overflows into love of neigh-bor and makes it truly love. For jus-tice without love may quickly become tyranny, while mere "humanitarian-ism" may become bureaucratic, offi-cious, and quite unloving. On the other hand, love of God makes love of neighbor tenderhearted, generous, and selfless. For, in our living communion with God, we discover that God loves us all and that for this reason we must love others and strive to bring peace and justice into the world. What is.the upshot of all this? What does it mean in practical terms? If all this is true, it may mean that the ongoing renewal of religious life needs to be reviewed. It may mean that we must go back to the drawing board and ask ourselves whether we have made changes on the basis of an inadequate notion of the purpose of religious life. It may mean that, while many good things have occurred in terms of a structural renewal of our lives, the spiri-tual renewal is yet to begin--one that may cause us to take a sec-ond look at those structures. Our structures of prayer, our living of the vows, and our community life must be fashioned so that, primarily, they foster our love for God. To achieve this we must grapple with this question: .Are we perhaps in need of a shift in our faith, one that moves away from the many forms of anthro-pocentrism of the last few centuries, and centers religious life more directly on the pure love of God? Chastity is the point at which the service and the love of God meet in the center of the consecrated person. March-April 2000 KENNETH C. RUSSELL Must Hermits Work? Maust hermits work to earn their living? Must they leave side their regime of silence and prayer to earn money, even though this is a Catch-22 situation, with solitude calling them away from society and work drawing them back into it? By taking a job, manufacturing a product, or providing a service, they trou-ble themselves with any number of people so as to have enough income to get away from people and indulge their own hermit's desire to be alone and untroubled. Are they not then better off depending on some form of fixed income, on the largess of the religious congregations to which they may belong, or on the charity of the faithful? It would seem so. But is this kind of dependence legitimate? What does the his-tory of the eremitical life in the Western church say about this? How do the principal texts on the solitary life deal with the eco-nomic, psychological, and spiritual aspects of work? What features remain constant in the tradition? What shifts take place? In this brief overview, which makes no claim to be complete, we begin with the teachings of the pioneers in the Egyptian desert as these are recorded in the alphabetical collection of Sayings of the Desert Fathers and in John Cassian's Institutions and Conferences. We then turn our attention to a few representative medieval texts, primarily from the 12th century, a period marked by a widespread revival of the eremitical life. Kenneth C. Russell last wrote for us in November-December 1998. His address remains 40 Landry Street, Apt. 1505; Vanier, Ontario; t~6~ K1L 8K4 Canada. Review for Religious The Sayings of the Desert Fathers Although the classical picture of the hermits in the Egyptian desert as hardscrabble peasants used to a tough life has been chal-lenged of late, it seems clear that, whatever the truth about their social status and educational background, they earned their keep by the work of their hands. The Sayings tell us that the solitaries plaited ropes (Sayings 184, 39), made baskets (105, 1) and hired themselves out as laborers to bring in the harvest (82, 47; 191, 2).' At least one monk strung necklaces of small dried peas to pay for his food. We are told that Abba Serinus spent his time harvest-ing, sewing, and weaving (191, 2). The monks worked because they had to. They did not share the conviction of the excessively spiritual groups of the time that considered work to be below the dignity of those called to per-petual prayer. Several stories seem to satirize the "angelic" atti-tude of these Messalians, as they were called. One concerns Abba John the Dwarf, a prominent desert figure, who in his youth announced to his brother his intention of living a carefree life of ceaseless prayer like the angels who do no work. After a week he was back knocking on his brother's door, hungry and begging to be let in. When this brother, in no hurry to admit him, got around to answering the door, he told young John: "You are a man and you must once again work in order to eat" (73, 2). The same point is driven home in the story of a monk who, while visiting a small eremitical community, sees the brothers working hard and cautions their leader, Abba Silvanus, not to seek "the food which perishes" (John 6:27). Silvanus allows him to spend the day reading, but does not summon him to dinner. When the hungry monk asks why he was not called, the elder answers: "Because you are a spiritual man and do not need that kind of food. We, being carnal, want to eat, and that is why we work" (187, 5). In these words of practical economy, it is obvious that work not only feeds the monk but keeps him grounded in the real-ity of the world and human nature. The Egyptian hermits lived apart from society, but they were not disconnected from the larger world. A brother was advised by Abba Poemen to do some manual labor "so as to be able to give alms" (148, 69). This readiness "to work for charity's sake" (87, 4) also set the Egyptian monks apart from the Messalians or Euchites, who regarded themselves as the most fitting recipients of any handouts. March-April 2000, Russell * Must Hermits In one story some Euchite monks answer Abba Lucius's query about what kind of work they do by announcing, rather smugly it seems, that they do not touch manuhl labor, but obey Paul's instruc-tion to pray without ceasing. Lucius asks how perpetual their prayer can really be if they must interrupt it to eat or sleep. For his part he demonstrates that work and prayer are not incompatible and shows how his charity toward the poor fills the gaps in his own prayer schedule. "When I have spent the whole day working and praying, making thirteen pieces of money more or less, I put two pieces of money outside the door and I pay for my food with the rest of the money. He who takes the two pieces of money prays for me when I am eating and when I am sleeping" (102, 1).2 But work that enables a monk to support himself and make a contribution to the well-being of others can also prove a distraction. What is supposed to support the spiritual life can become an end in itself (64, 10). It can assume an importance it does not deserve (44, 1 I). This is surely why Abba Silvanus threatens to leave his little community when his disciples and some other brothers move the fence to enlarge the garden (188, 8). This story also implies that at some point work becomes a guarantee of security, which challenges the hermit's dependence on divine providence. Abba Serinus, who worked at a number of tasks, avoided this trap by insisting that "in all these employments, if the hand of God had not sustained me, I should not have been fed" (191, 2). In the same vein, Silvanus is confident that as long as he does his part God will provide (188, 9). Given the tendency of work to become a goal in itself, it is not surprising that when a monk asks Abba Biare what he must do to be saved, the elder advises him to reduce his appetite, dwell in his cell, and reduce his quota of manual work (37, 1). Any kind of work can upset a hermit's life if it assumes too great a place in it. But certain kinds of work were regarded as essentially distracting. Agriculture per se was considered an exte-riorizing activity that draws a monk's attention away from God. Even the gardening that is mentioned in the Sayings was suspect. It was, at best, on the borderline of the acceptable. When Abba Silvanus had to water the garden his disciple usually cared for, he hid his face lest the sight of the trees should distract him (187, 4). Underlying what we have seen so far concerning the eremit-ical understanding of work is the conviction that a monk should pay his own way and contribute to some extent to the welfare of oth-ers. But neither of these obligations demands that all monks must Review for Relig4ous work. Some monks, surely, had the means to sustain their life with-out daily labor. A number of these could probably count on the support of their relatives and friends. Would this modest support not give them more time to pray and meditate? Is there not a mod-icum of good sense even in the extremist position of the Messalians? Why is work itself so important? We must note, first of all, that living on any form of income other than daily labor is explicitly rejected in the Sayings. A monk who is disturbed by the haggling involved in selling his wares asks one of the senior monks whether he may give up work if he finds another means to survive. The elder replies: "Even if you do have what you need by other means, do not give up your manual work" (168, 1). The monk is instructed, in fact, to work as hard as he can. The "word" given here is exemplified in the story of Abba Achilles, who edifies his visitors when they discover that he has been working and meditating all night. "From yesterday evening till now, I have woven twenty mea-sures, although I do not need it; but it is for fear God should be angry and accuse me, saying, 'Why did you not work when you could have done so?' That is why I give myself to this labor and do as much as I can" (25, 5). The Sayings generally do not emphasize the noneconomic value of manual labor. They do, however, present work as a basic element of a hermit's life. When Abba Poemen holds up one of the elders as an example, he observes that "in Abba Pambo we see three bodily activities: abstinence from food until the evening every day, silence, and much manual work" (158, 150). When Poemen lays out the basics of the eremitical life for an inquirer, he begins by saying that "living in your cell clearly means manual work" (160, 168). We know then that, according to the Sayings, work is an asceti-cal activity linked with meditation which should not be set aside even if other means of support are available. It seems clear, how-ever, that manual labor was so tightly tied to economic survival in the experience of most Egyptian solitaries that they felt no need to reflect in depth on the role it played in their lives. It was simply a fundamental but unobtrusive activity of their uncomplicated regime. To get a deeper insight into the role that work plays in Any kind of work can upset a hermit's life if it assumes too great a place in it. 159 March-April 2000 R~ssell * Must Her~nits Work? the eremitical life, we must turn to the elaborations on life in the desert which John Cassian offers us in his Institutions and Conferences. --- 160 Cassian's Institutions and Conferences The presence of Messalians (Syriac for "those who pray" but do not work) is more strongly felt in John Cassian's writings than in the Sayings. The need for daily work seems, therefore, to be less the plain, indisputable fact of life it is in the Sayings and more a deliberate option. Cassian takes Paul the Apostle as the exemplar of work. If Paul, who had the right to live off his mission, worked, how can monks refrain from doing so? Paul worked, Cassian notes, not for the sake of introducing some healthy variety into his life, but to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow even though he might have lived off his savings or from offerings received from others (Institutions 10.8; p. 270).3 Since Cassian uses Paul's injunction to the Thessalonians to work with their hands and to be at peace (1 Th 4:11), it is clear that he sees manual labor as an antidote to distraction (10.7; p. 269). Work concentrates the mind and shuts out external noise. It lifts the individual above the turmoil of the emotions. This is so important to John Cassian that he connects a story illustrating this point to St. Anthony himself. Anthony, we are told, was challenge'd by a brother who argued that his own life was superior to the discipline of the desert. He lived near his rel-atives, benefited from their support, and so was able to give all his time to prayer and reading. Anthony countered his claim to be free of care by showing that he was, in fact, emotionally tied to the economic ups and downs of his supporters. Anthony goes on to say that "this most lukewarm condition [is] depriving you of the fruit of your own hands and the just reward of your labor" (Conferences 24.11.3; p. 833).4 Once again Paul's example is put forward as the ideal. It is his example, Anthony maintains, which compels monks to work. Indeed, were it not for Paul's example, Anthony argues, he and his fellow monks would take the easy route and live off the alms of their relatives. Anthony goes on to chide the healthy monk for living off alms that should by right go to the weak. He then makes an astounding statement which radically opposes the notion that, while others must work, monks are exempt from labor because Review for Religious they pray. He insists, on the contrary, that everyone else in the world relies on the compassion of others, "with the sole exception of the race of monks which, in accordance with the Apostle' s precept, lives by the daily toil of its hands" (Conf24.12.3; p. 834). Anthony reminds us that, according to tradition, the monk gives alms, he does not receive them. In Anthony's opinion, authentic solitaries do not live off their relatives or near them. On the contrary, they flee society and live outside civilization's jurisdiction in the wastelands beyond the fer-tile Nile valley. This withdrawal not only shelters them from the hubbub of village life, but makes farming--the kind of work with which most Egyptian monks were probably familiar--impractical. Cassian regards farming as an unsuitable activity for a monk for several reasons. First, it draws the mind away from the focus on God which should be the monk's principal concern. Second, the fatigue brought on by hard work in the fields drains away the energy a monk needs for his spiritual pursuits (Conf 24.12.4; p. 835).s The third reason, however, is the most important. Not only is farm labor hard, it is also periodic; as a con-sequence, a monk who does this work is at loose ends for long periods of time. Cassian makes this last point evident in the story of some farming monks who grew restless whenever they visited the hermit colony of Skete. They literally could not sit still. Cassian says that they had not learned how to quiet their inner being because they worked outdoors and their thoughts were scattered everywhere by their bodily activity (Conf24.4; p. 828). For John Cassian, therefore; work is primarily associated with the spiritual goal of the monk. The hermit works because work provides the best conditions for prayer. The monk does certain kinds of work because certain tasks can be done day and night, day in and day out, without undue fatigue and without requiring a great deal of attention. The uncomplicated procedures associated with rope making and the like help him to pray. They keep the monk alert and centered so that he is able to resist both sleep and the listlessness and distractedness typical of acedia (Inst 2.12; p. 210). The example of Abba Paul, who had no economic reason to do handwork, shows just how essential Cassian thought manual labor actually was. Abba Paul's basic needs were met by the garden he Authentic solitaries do not live off their relatives or near them. March-April 2000 R~ssell ¯ M~t Hermits Work? tended and the palm trees near by. It seems, in fact, that his idyl-lic little oasis was so far out in the desert that the hermit had no way of getting his wares to market. Nevertheless, he collected palm branches and set himself a daily quota of weaving. At the end of the year he gathered the baskets he had made into a great pile and burned them. Then he started all over again. Abba Paul did not work to feed himself or to provide for the poor. So what was the point of his manual labor? Cassian says that his example proves that a monk can neither stay put nor achieve perfection without manual labor. Abba Paul worked solely to purify his heart, to keep his thoughts on course, to persevere in his cell, and thus to overcome acedia (Inst 10.24; pp. 274-275). In other words, he worked because it steadied and grounded him. The handwork with which he occupied himself night and day while praying centered him in a way that the gardening he did to support his life could not. Work serves prayer as long as it remains a subordinate ele-ment in the monastic regime. But, once a monk begins to think of himself as a "hard worker," he is in danger of feeding his human ambition by measuring his own worth in terms of the profit he makes or the tasks he performs. The monk, in effect, imports the world's notion of success into the desert. Once work itself becomes the goal, it usurps the priority that belongs properly to prayer. This is vividly illustrated in Cassian's tale of an elder who comes upon one of these superachievers wearing himself out try-ing to break up a stubborn boulder. The exhausted hermit thinks he is doing "good work," but the senior monk sees that a demon is urging him on (Confg.6.1-3; pp. 333-334). The point is clear: work that does not serve prayer can turn even the sorry resources of the desert into vehicles of human ambition. Jerome's Letter to Rusticus Before we leave the earliest teaching on the place of work in the eremitical life, we should take note of the list of possible tasks St. Jerome lays out in his letter to Rusticus,a young man on the brink of a monastic vocation.6 Although he counsels Rusticus not to live with his mother, and does mention at one point that by working he will be able to pay for his food, practical necessity is not the principal reason Jerome gives for working. It is primarily a matter of keeping busy and thereby holding the devil at bay. Review for Religious Some of the jobs which Jerome recommends are the familiar crafts of the Egyptian desert: weaving baskets and tending a small garden plot. To these Jerome adds the cultivation and grafting of fruit trees, beekeeping, the weaving of fishing nets, and, signifi-cantly, bookcopying. The copying of manuscripts was, to a great extent, a physical task like the other jobs mentioned. The parchment had to be pre-pared, inks mixed, pens cut, the pages lined, the text written out, and, finally, the manuscript bound. But there was an intellectual dimension to this activity. Jerome mentions that copying texts feeds the mind. He then goes on to remember his own brief stay in the desert when he fought off temptation by working hard to learn Hebrew. We have here, I think, the seeds of a conception of "work" quite different from that of the tradition of the Egyptian desert. We have moved out of the world of small peasant farmers into the cul- ¯ tivated world of the Roman gentleman. Although, while in the desert, Jerome may have earned his keep by some simple hand-work, it is clear that his real work was studying and writing. The same may be said, to some extent, of Cassian. From this time on we see a certain tension between the idea of work as a physical, money-earning activity and work as an intellectual activity for the betterment of the individual. Should someone who can do the higher work lay it aside to do a less spiritual and less humane task for the sake of earning money? Must a hermit work? Are the eremitical life and work in the sweat and blood, money-earning sense of the word compatible? The old question subtly reemerges between the lines, as it were, when Jerome, a man of scholarly inclination, lists the kinds of work suitable for a solitary. Grimlaic's Rule for Solitaries The 9th-10th-century Regula Solitariorum, by Grimlaic, rep-resents a literary dividing line between the Egyptian tradition's insistence that hermits must work to earn their living and the belief that solitaries have the right to turn to others for support.7 After noting the spiritual value of work as a means to. avoid idleness, Grimlaic summons up the example of St. Paul and the Fathers to insist that solitaries must work to support themselves and to help those in need. Indeed, he says that the greater part of the day should March-April 2000 Russell * Must Hermits Work? A hermit's food, drink, and clothing are paid for either by his personal labor or by the offerings of the faithful. be given to "holy work." He has in mind some task which can be performed mechanically while reading or praying.(Regula 39; 629). Grimlaic retells Cassian's story ofAbba Paul, who lived too far out in the desert to make the manufacture of baskets and ropes practical, but who nevertheless set himself a quota of manual work every day. He also borrows from the same source the story of the superspiritual nonworldng monk who was brought down to earth by Abba Silvanus's failure to call him to dinner (39; 630). He further emphasizes the importance of manual labor by laying out the Benedictine schedule of work and accept-ing the principle that, if poverty demands it, more time should be given to labor (40; 631).8 Obviously, there had always been elderly or infirm hermits who were unable to imitate the example of St. Paul "and the holy fathers" which Grimlaic so strongly emphasizes. Nonetheless, it seems to me significant that Grimlaic should undermine his argument by noting that Augustine maintains that the occasions on which Paul himself depended on alms demon-strate that those who are unable to do manual labor may receive their sustenance from others (39; 630). Grimlaic states this principle and then backs away from its implications. He insists that solitaries should work with their own hands even if they have some other means of support (39; 630). The idea that it might be legitimate for solitaries to rely on oth-ers for their keep recurs, however, immediately after Grimlaic defends the importance of work in passages borrowed ~rom Cassian and Benedict. It is no longer an exception to an almost inviolate rule. He simply states that a hermit's food, drink, and clothing are paid for either by his personal labor or by the offerings of the faith-ful (41; 631). He notes that he has demonstrated that it is legiti-mate for solitaries to live off alms. The argument isbased on more than Christian charity toward the needy. Hermits are compared to the priests and levites of the Old Testament, who received tithes so that they might be free to minister to the Lord without the distraction of earthly preoccu-pations (41; 631-632). The Christian clergy, like the ministers of Review for Religious the Old Testament, have nothing of their own, but merely admin-istrate and distribute what they receive from the people. The assimilation of solitaries to the clergy, which was becom-ing more a reality as monasteries were clericalized, is complete in Grimlaic's quotation from a rule for canons in which monks and hermits are said to rightly receive material support from the church because they have followed the evangelical counsel to renounce wealth (41; 632). Without this support they would have to shift their focus from God to the business of securing the necessities of life. But what of the traditional obligation of hermits to help the poor? The Regula Solitariorum deals with this issue by comparing hermits to the apostles in the Jerusalem church. The apostles them-selves owned nothing, but acted as channels through which each of the faithful received what he or she needed. Solitaries are to have the same detachment toward material things and to see to it that the poor share in the offerings which come their way (41; 632). What has happened to the concept of work in this transition from a reference to the fact that the fathers earned their living by the work of their hands to the declaration that hermits have the right to live off alms? The Regula Solitariorum is not saying that hermits need not work, but rather that they need not earn their living by the work they do. The profitability of work is not the sine qua non of the eremitical life. When the Egyptian abbas talked about work, they were refer-ring to an activity by which they avoided idleness and earned money. In the works which follow the Regula Solitariorum, the financial benefits of work will fade into the background. There will be a strong tendency to value work solely as a means to escape the boredom idleness brings on. A Camaldolese Rule for Hermits The shift in what is meant by "work" is evident in a 12th- 13th-century rule for hermits which plays a part in the history of the Camaldolese.9 It is interesting that, when the customary warn-ing against idleness is given and the hermit is told to combat this by "doing some work," the works suggested are actually spiritual and penitential practices (34; 297). When the rule does refer to manualia exercitia, the emphasis is on when manual labor may not be done (35; 298). March-April 2000 155 Russell ¯ Must Hermits Work? The kinds of work mentioned--gathering wood, gardening, collecting straw--are to be done in groups of three or more (36; 298). What the rule seems to have in mind when it talks of work (the noise of which must not disturb the quiet of the hermitage) is the maintenance necessary to keep the hermit colony functioning. There seems to be no notion of profitability whatsoever. Indeed, the emphasis on the recitation of the Psalter indicates the influence of Cluny (37; 298). Liturgical prayer has become the monk's real work. A hermit is simply too busy and too often weak-ened by fasting to work. During Lent, for example, some work (aliquid; manualia quaedam) is scheduled for only two afternoons a week (35; 298). Guigo I's Carthusian Customary The "customary" (or custom book) of what Would later be called the Grande Chartreuse, written by Guigo I, shows that bookcopying was to the Carthusians what weaving and braiding had been to the Egyptian solitaries, that is, the perfect activity for the hermit's cell. Guigo I notes, therefore, that anyone who is capable is taught to do this work (222)'.~° The production of manuscripts seemed particularly apt to these priest-hermits because it was a way for them to preach the word silently (224). The profit motive is not mentioned, but surely the produc-tion of a commodity that was in demand supplemented the support the inner circle of monks received from the outer ring of conversi, who did the manual labor that today we call blue-collar work. Guigo's complaints about the cost of running the place suggest that the community was on a tight budget (210). However, if there was anything left over after expenses had been met, it was Jaot given to the poor directly but sent to the neighboring village for distribution. In this way the Carthusians made it unprofitable for the poor to trek to their door (210). .I.t/k/ Peter the Venerable's Letter to Gislebertus Not all hermits and recluses shared the Carthusians' deter-mination to keep people at a distance. Some of them surrendered to the inclination to escape the monotony of their life by turning outward. Their effort to lighten the burden of their solitary rou-tine by a bit of pastoral counseling may seem prudent to us, but in Review for Religious fact it made the return to solitude all the harder. It had another damaging consequence: it brought them more money than they needed. The extra, of course, was said to be for the poor, but watching the coins pile up could easily lead to avarice or turn the hermit into a local benefactor. It is not surprising, there.fore, that Peter the Venerable, the great abbot of Cluny, advises Gislebertus, a monk of his who has recently become a recluse, to make sure that there is no extra cash in his cell. He insists that Gislebertus not become a distribution center of offerings to the poor. If someone in authority tells him that he must perform this function, the abbot uses his authority to veto the plan. It makes no sense to Peter that someone who has been freed from the worry of meeting his own needs should be entangled in concerns about the needs of others (35).~ Since we are told that his monastery provided Gislebertus with food, clothing, and his hermitage, it is clear that he did not have to earn his living (35). When Peter, therefore, proposes some sort of manual labor, he is suggesting a means of refreshing the'mind and exercising the body. He is recommending manual labor as a relief from the hard work of reading, prayer, and meditation (38). ¯ For Peter, as for Guigo I, the best work for a hei'mit is book-copying. He too is enthusiastic about its pastoral benefits (39). But, if a hermit cannot do this work because his eyes are bad or because it gives him a headache, or if he simply wants to have something more than just bookcopying to do, Peter recommends that he make coinbs, needle cases, small wine flasks, and the like. He even mentions that, if a swamp is nearby, the recluse may imi-tate the ancient monks and make baskets (39). At this point, it seems to me, the text veers toward the romantic. Work has become a hobby, purely a means of avoiding idleness. The task which Cassian said the Egyptian

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

Issue 38.3 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bl-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St Louis Umverslty 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. © 1979 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.: $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 May, 1979 Volume 38 Number 3 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOtZ REL~C~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Principles of Prayer Robert F. Morneau On February 22, 1979, Bishop Morneau was consecrated to serve as auxiliary bishop of the Green Bay Diocese, His latest article for our pages, "Spiritual Staying Power," appeared beginning p. 664 of the September, 1979 issue. He wrote: "'As of December 19th my writing career has been threatened." On that date he was appointed bishop-designate. Growth in all forms of relationships, be they with God or with one another, calls for an ongoing communication process. Prayer is one such process involving dialogue between God and the human person. In order to be meaningful that process must be grounded on certain principles de-scriptive of universal conditions, consequences and causes of meaningful prayer. This paper culls out several principles of prayer as articulated by various spiritual authors. These authors, experiencing prayer at different levels according to the uniqueness of their personality structures, share in written form some truths that provide an explication of prayer experiences in general. These truths when understood in context may well enlighten our own experiences or at least cause us to desire them as we journey to the Father. In so doing we can grow in our dialogical relationship with God. A three-step method will be used: 1) a statement of a principle of prayer; 2) a series of quotations from which the principle was drawn, or of quo-tations used to demonstrate the validity of the principle; and 3) a com-mentary developing some implications buried within the principle and/or quotations. Though principles are significant and advantageous in providing a perspective and pointing out a direction, experience itself is the central concern. Hopefully, as the reader journeys beyond the principle into the 321 322 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 197913 experience which it ~luciidates, he will find deeper meaning in it and be able to come into contact with the principal Reality underlying all real princi-ples. Ten Principles of Prayer 1. Prayer is Essentially Loving Attention1 Thus the individual also should proceed only with a loving attention to God, without making specific acts. He should conduct himself passively, as we have said, without efforts of his own, but with the simple, loving awareness, as a person who opens his eyes with loving attention,z Attention animated by desire is the whole foundation of religious practices? shall not dwell upon this because I want to say something about the way in which think those of us who practice prayer may profit, though everything is profitable to soul that loves the Lord with fervent desire, since it instills into it courage and wonder.4 Two essential elements of authentic prayer are contained in the defini-tion of prayer as loving attention: awareness of the presence of the Other and a h.eartfelt, concerned response. Distraction within consciousness and indifference of the heart are obstacles to meaningful communication with God. If, on our part, we are called to love with attention, this is consequent upon God's loving attention toward us. God made us; he is attentive to the smallest detail of our lives; he loves us completely. An affirmative answer must be given to Blake's deeply religious question: ~'Did he smile his work to see?" The Father's loving attention has been revealed in Jesus, the Word incarnate. A coming-to-visit verifies God's love and awareness. Further verification is found in the sending of the Spirit into our lives, the Spirit of love and knowledge. Because of this personal Grace we are enabled to truly pray. 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 per-fectly well what he means, and that the pleas of the saints expressed by the Spirit are according to the mind of God.? Defining prayer in terms of loving attention is simple but not simplistic. Its simplicity lies in its directness and succinctness; it is not reductionistic ~SeeJo 17;Ro 11:33-36. ~The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, (Tr., Kavanaugh, and Rodriguez, Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1973), p. 622. 3Simone Weil, Waiting for God, introduction by Leslie Fiedler (New York: Harper Colophon Books, 1951), p. 197. 4The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E. Allison Peers (London: Sheed and Ward, 1944), Vol. I!, p. 363. ~Ro 8:26-27. Principles of Prayer / 323 because neither love nor attentiveness is easily attained. Prayer, like all great acts, defies full analysis because it contains too much mystery. Only knowledge of prayer from the inside, i.e., through experience, allows for even surface knowledge of such a powerful event. 2. Prayer is Proportionate to the Qualit~ of One's Love6 Farewell, farewell! but this I tell To thee, thou Wedding Guest! He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who Ioveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who Ioveth us, He made and Ioveth all.7 He knew that without prayer true love was impossible, and he learned from living that without love prayer became self-centered and barren.8 I repeat that if you have this in view you must not build upon foundations of prayer and contemplation alone, for, unless you strive after the virtures and practice them, you will never grow to be more than dwarfs. God grant that nothing worse than this may happer~for, as you know, anyone who fails to go forward begins to go back, and love, I believe, can never be content to stay for long where it is.8 The spiritual life demands balance. How one relates to God in prayer is intimately related to how one encounters his neighl~or. Scripture is trans-parent on this point: he who says that he loves God and at the same time shows hatred to his neighboris a liar:1° The person who spends an hour in prayer while fi~glecting the obvious needs of people close at hand must seriously examine the authenticity of such prayer. Indeed, the reality check for one's prayer life is fraternal charity.~1 Prayer and love are ~ymbiotic. Since our God is Love, we must be in close contact with him if we are to share that gift with others to its fullest. The reverse is also true: unless we share the love given in prayer, the gift dries up or simply engenders pride. As in all provinces of life, the principle of interdependence applies directly to the spiritual life, too. Integration of prayer and' love, contemplation and virture, liturgy and the apostolate are called for. Isolation and fragmentation here create a false spirituality visible to everyone except their possessor. A vision of integrated spirituality and a discipline of courageous action is true imitation of Christ. 81Jo 2:9-11; Lk 4:42-44. 7Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.'" SMurray Bodo, Francis: The Journe~ and the Dream (Cincinnati: St, Anthony Messenger Press, 1972), p. 64. 8St. Teresa, II, p. 347. ~°1 Jo 2. ~Spiritual Renewal of the American Priesthood (Washington, D.C.: Publication Office United States Catholic Conference, 1973), p. 48. 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 3. Genuine Prayer Demands Some Self-Control of Body and Spiritt2 ¯. we shall not fail to observe the fasts, disciplines and periods of silence which the order commands: for, as you know, if prayer is to be genuine it must be reinforced with these things--prayer cannot be accompanied by self-indulgence?'~ Oh, who can tell how impossible it is for a man with appetites to judge the things of God as they are.j4 We shall have overcome a considerable obstacle when prayer and penance condition each other, for their unity will be able to become the guarantee of their orientation. If it is necessary to deprive oneself of food and sleep, it is not to establish a perform-ance or glorify oneself over an exploit, but to allow the spirit to give itself freely to prayer, since, if it is less strongly captivated by the things of earth, it will be able to give attention to what is above it.15 When the body or the spirit is not free but addicted to various sub-stances or objects, the process of prayer is threatened. A body satiated with food and drink becomes listless and weary; a mind constantly filled with the flood of stimuli is so preoccupied as not to be receptive to other realities. Prayer is premised upon the ability to say '~no" to one level of reality so as to be able to say "yes" to the workings of the Spirit. Asceticism is a condition which creates space and time for dialogue with God. Certain exercises, such as fasting, periods of extended silence, volun-tary mortification, are means by which that space and time become real. The "if-then" principle applies to spirituality as it does to all of life: if the farmer wants the fall harvest, then he must willingly do the spring plowing and planting; ira person wants to listen and respond to the Lord, then time and space must be created for the encounter to happen. Strong and deter-min~: d desire lies at the root of such discipline. Self-control extends one step beyond asceticism. Once the emptiness has been created through exercises done out of love, then the soul must wait on the Lord who will come in his time and in his manner. Waiting for God is at the heart of prayer and is already a deep form of prayer; self-control makes that waiting possible and grace makes it sacred. Although not speaking of prayer, C. S. Lewis describes well this aspect of what is, after all, part of the human condition: "Then came the worst part, the waiting." ~ 4. In Prayer, 1 Must Bring This Me to the Living and True God~7 I enter into the presence of God with all my load of misery and troubles. And he takes me just as I am and makes me to be alone with him?~ ~ZGa 5:16-26: Mt 4:1-17. ~3St. Teresa, I1, p. 16. ~4St. John of the Cross, p. 364. ~Fran~ois Roustang, S.J., Growth in the Spirit, (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1966), p¯ 232. ~nC. S. Lewis, The Last Battle (New York: Collier Books, 1956). p. 13. ~rjg 6:13: Ro 7:14-25. This principle of prayer was presented in a gu.ided retreat by Fr. William A. M. Peters, S.J. ~SRaissa's Journal, presented by Jacques Maritain (Albany, N.Y.: Magi Books, 1974), p. 225. Principles of Prayer / 325 If you're approaching him not as the goal but as a road, not as the end but as a means, you're not really approaching him at all?9 I can testify that this is one of the most grievous kinds of life which I think can be imagined, for I had neither any joy in God nor any pleasure in the world. When i was in the midst of worldly pleasures, I was distressed by the remembrance of what I owed to God; when I was with God, I grew restless because of worldly ~iffections.z° Any genuine conversation requires that each participant have an ade-quate level of self-knowledge and is familiar with the content under discus-sion. Where either is wanting, communication breaks down. Prayer, which is essentially a form of communication, contains the same requirements: we must know our real self and have some notion of who God is as well as understand the experience that is being ~;hared. Because of a drive to come off 'qooking well," it is difficult to bring the true, real self to God without a kind of editing. Because God can be conceived in ways that are distor-tions of his true nature, it can easily happen that we attempt to pray to gods that do not exist. One of the greatest causes for sterility in prayer stems precisely from a misconception of God and a failure to be in touch with our true identity. Psychologists are helpful in depicting for us a variety of selves with which we must deal: Each of us seems to have three self-concepts. The personal self-image is how the individual pictures his most inner self ("how 1 really am"). The social self is how he thinks others see him, and the pattern of responses he learns in order to be a social being. The Meal self is made up of the goals set by parents, the culture, and other sources ("how I should be"). Often, these three conflict, creating problems for the individual trying to satisfy them all.z~ Each person must examine which of these selves is operative not only in the interactions of one's daily life but also as one comes before God. To play a role or function in the presence of the Lord prohibits encounter with our deepest self. To demand that the ideal self be actualized before its due season (perfectionism) leads only to a guilt trip every time we must turn to prayer. God says to us, "Come as you are"--no need for formal dress here. C. S. Lewis knew that God cannot be captured by our finite reason: "My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has .to be shattered time after time.''z2 Yet we can come to some knowledge of the living and true God. As Christians we attain to this through faith and the knowledge of Jesus Christ. In Jesus our God is made visible. Gifted with the Spirit, we make our journey to the Father in and through Jesus. His life, death and resurrec-tion is a summary statement of the Father's love and forgiveness. Thus all ~9C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World. 1955), p. 21. 2°St. Teresa, I, p. 48. 2~John H. Brennecke and Robert G. Amick; Psychology: Understanding Yourself(California: Benziger Bruce & Glencoe, 1975), p. 43. "~C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (New York: The Seabury Press, 1961), p. 52. 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 197913 of our prayer passes through and is enriched by the Lord as we speak to and listen to the Father. .Authentic prayer demands authentic, real persons. Our real self must be continually ferreted out; our real God must be longed for and awaited in silence and solitude. Only when real people meet can dialogue take place; the dialogue of prayer is no exception. 5. Prayer's Primary Focus Is on God, Not Self or Events2:~ I get nowhere by looking at myself; I merely get discouraged. So I am making the resolution to abandon myself entirely to God, to look only at him, to leave all the care of myself to him, to practice only one thing, confidence; my extreme wretchedness, my natural cowardice leaving me no other way to go to God and to advance in good .24 it is not my business to think about myself. My business is to think about God. It is for God to think about me.z~ You could, if you wished, deny that Mister God existed, but'then any denial didn't alter the fact that Mister God was. No, Mister God was; he was the kingpin, the center, the very heart of things; and this is where it got funny, You see, we had to recognize that he was all these things, and that meant that we were at our qenter, not God. God is our center, and yet it is we who acknowledge that he is the center. That makes us somehow internal to Mister God. This is the curious nature of Mister God: that even while he is at the center of all things, he waits outside us and knocks to come in. It is we who open the door. Mister God doesn't break it down and come in; no, he knocks and waits.2n Focusing and centering are concepts and experiences that are empha-sized in spirituality and psychology. Through this activity we realize that what is at the core of our consciousness radically affects our thoughts, feelings and actions. Often, a violent struggle takes place deep within our interior as various persons, forces, and things vie for centrality. Prayer deals directly with centering. Oi)r experience indicates how easily self-centeredness moves in or how daily anxieties and worries can become so strong as to exclude any awareness of a loving, caring God. Self-transcendence is no easy task; trust that the Lord will provide is more easily thought than experienced. Only in grace can the obstacles blocking encounter with God be removed. Jesus' prayer and life were centered on the Father and the doing of his will. Often in the early hours and before major events we see Jesus explicitly turning to the Father in deep, familiar communication. These explicit moments were indications of an implicit, hidden life of union. How else explain the intimacy of the last supper discourse? Yet Jesus, in his humanness, must have struggled at times to keep proper focus. We need but ponder the agony in the garden to realize that the struggle we have with ourselves and our fear of suffering were part ~aPs 23: Ga 2:17-21. Z4Raissa's Journal, p. 83. Z~Waiting for God, pp. 50-51. ~nFynn, Mister God, This is Anna (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1974), p. 174. Principles of Prayer / 327 of our Lord's experience as well. The lives of the saints are the records of people who struggled to center on God in spite of their own selfishness. Augustine's ongoing conversion, Teresa of Avila's admission that for years her prayer was superficial, John of the Cross' constant challenge to mortification lest the self dominate--all manifest the eternal conflict between the ego and divine love. Marvelously God has withheld rest so that we can never be at full peace unless we center on him. George Herbert saw this and recorded it magnificantly: When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, Let us (said he) pour on him all we can; Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span. So strength first made a way; Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure: When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure, Rest in the bottom lay. For if I should (said he) Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature: So both should losers be. Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness; Let him be rich and weary, that at least, if goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast.~7 6. Silence, Solitude and Surrender are Conditions for Pra~er2s When it happens, therefore, that a person is conscious in this manner of being placed in solitude and in the state of listening, he should even forget the practice of loving attentiveness I mentioned so as to remain free for what the Lord then desires of him The beginning of integrity is not effort but surrender; it is simply the opening of the heart to receive that for which the heart is longing. The healing of mankind begins whenever any man ceases to resist the love of God.n° Good as is discourse, silence is better, and shames it. The length of the discourse indicates the distance of thought betwixt the speaker and the hearer, if they were at a perfect understanding in any part, no words would be necessary thereon. If at one in all parts, no words would be suffered,n~ ZrGeorge Herbert, "'The Pulley." 28Lk 22:39-46; Mt 6:5-6. ~°St. John of the Cross, p. 623. n°Caryll Houselander, quoted in Maisie Ward, Caryll Houselander: That Divine Eccentric (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1962), p. 279. n~"Circles," Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson (New York: The Book League of America, 1941), p. 106. 32~i / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 This SSS Principle (Silence, Solitude, Surrender) establishes the dis-positions allowing for union with God. Simply by looking at their opposites we realize how important they are. Constant chatter impedes prayer ("In your prayers do not babble as the pagans do." Mt. 6:5); crowding our lives with activities and people stifles the inner agenda; clutching desperately to our own wills thwarts the realization of the Father's will. In a culture that is activistic and grasping, the qualities of silence, solitude and surrender are not easy to come by. We must recognize the influence of the external environment on the internal milieu. Diligence and discipline are required if we are to grow in a rich, interior silence; courage and trust, if we are to dwell alone with the Other; love and generosity, if we are to accomplish the Lord's will freely. The attainment of a given end necessitates using an appropriate means. The house of the Lord is attained by traveling the path of silence, solitude and surrender. The path is narrow, perhaps peopled by few. Desire for union with God provides the enthusiasm to set out and continue on the journey. The greatest tragedy is to ignore the voices that call us to love, to dwell with many and not to have the One, to retain a false freedom at the cost of life. 7. The Tone of Prayer is One of Reverence and Awe:~" Then prayer is a witness that the soul wills as God wills, and it eases the conscience and fits man for grace. And so he teaches us to pray and to have firm trust that kve shall have it; for he beholds us in love, and wants to make us partners in his good will and work.3'~ Earth's crammed with heaven And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes-- The rest sit round and pluck blackberries?4 First, therefore, I invite the reader to the groans of prayer through Christ crucified. through whose blood we are cleansed from the filth of vice-- so that he not believe that reading is sufficient without unction. speculation without devotion, investigation without wonder, observation without joy. work without piety, knowledge without love, understanding without humility '~21s6:1-9: Ps 118:5-7. :~Julian of Norwich: Showings. translated from the critical text with an introduction by Edmund Colledge. O.S.A. and James Walsh. S.J. (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 253. '~Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Aurora Leigh.'" Principles of Prayer / 399 endeavor without divine grace, ¯ reflection as a mirror without divinely inspired wisdom?5 A personal attitude toward a particular person or object is known as tone. Hostility, lack of openness and prejudices are negative attitudes creating an atmosphere (tone) of fear and discomfort; gentleness, respect and affability are positive attitudes promoting a climate (tone) of warmth and joy. The interior manner by which we approach God is of great impor-tance in prayer. Julian of Norwich writes that, when one is comfortable in coming to the Lord, deeper experiences of prayer are possible: And so'prayer makes harmony between God and man's soul, because when man is at ease with God he does not need to pray, but to contemplate reverently what God says.3s Though our tone is important, of greater significance is the manner in which God comes to us in prayer. God's attitude flows from his nature, a nature which is summarized in the word love. And love's cousins are reverence and awe. What mystery here !--that our God is so gracious and courteous in his visitations to us. Julian of Norwich shares her experience of God's tonality: Of everything which I saw, this was the greatest comfort to me, that our Lord is so familiar and so courteous, and this most filled my soul with delight and surety?7 When entering into prayer it is of great profit to ask for the Spirit of reverence and awe, that same Spirit which empowered Jesus as he ad-dressed the Father in silence and solitude. Reverence and awe are essen-tially gifts and are to be asked for. When gifted with these gentle attitudes our prayer takes on an entirely different quality. Without these gifts our hearts are stifled and our service cool. The reverent feel deeply and serve generously; the awe-filled see with wonder and hear with trembling. 8. God's Activity in Prayor is Fat" More Important Than Out" Activity:~s ,, Prayer is a personal response to God's presence. It is more something that God does to us, rather than anything we do. This means that God first makes himself present to us. Prayer is our awareness of and then response to God?~ In this interior union God communicates himself to the soul with such genuine love that no mother's affection, in which she tenderly caresses her child, nor brother's love, nor friendship is comparable to it. The tenderness and truth of love by which the immense Father favors and exalts this humble and loving soul reaches such a de-gree-- O wonderful thing] worthy of all our awe and admiration--that the Father himself becomes subject to her for her exaltation, as though he were her servant and :~SBonaventure: The Soul's Journey into God, translation and introduction by Ewert Cousins (New York: Paulist Press. 1978), pp. 55-56. a~Showings, p. 159. arll?id., p. 136. asPs 138; Jo 6:44. a~Fr. Armand Nigro,-Prayer" (source unknown). 330 I Review for Religious, Volume 38, 197913 she his lord. And he is as solicitous in favoring her as he would be if he were her slave and she his god. So profound is the humility and sweetness of God!4° In the first place it should be known that if a person is seeking God, his Beloved is seeking him much more.4~ Self-sufficiency is a trait much admired by our culture. Nothing happens unless we make it happen; being responsible implies the to~al management of our lives, including the spiritual domain. Control is the goal. With such a mentality it is not surprising that God's invitations and graces fall on deaf ears and are unseen because of our blindness. We simply are not open to outside motivation; we are dancers who must always lead. The conse-quence of such a disposition is tragic: "A person extinguishes the spirit by wanting to conduct himself in a way different from that in which God is leading him.''42 While acknowledging both the necessity and health of self-reliance in its deepest meaning, complete self-motivation leads to stagnation and death~ Faith tells us that God always takes the initiative, that Christian life is a radical response to what God speaks and calls us to do. In no way does this deny the principle that we are challenged to make things happen, not just let them happen. But it affirms that our "making" is consequent upon the word of our Father. The Christian heart, in wisdom, seeks simply to please the Father, whatever is asked. Though the request may be sur-rounded by darkness, though his thoughts and ways differ from our own, the challenge will remain the same: "Our task is always the humble and courageous one of listening obediently and acting boldly.''4:~ Hopefully our activity flows from that deep listening to the word of God. The day begins with a listening disposition; it ends with a review of our response to the Father's word. Thus, prayer is dialogic. Aword is spoken in love and answered out of love; the answer itself becomes the substance for the next movement in the warm, mutual relationship between God and his creature. The familiarity here is profound; its absence creates an incredible loneliness and a haunting restlessness. o There is no One Way of Praying: Pluralism in Prayer Must Be Carefully Safeguarded44 If while the soul is meditating the Lord should suspend it, well and good; for in that case he will make it cease meditation even against its own will. I consider it quite certain that this method of procedure is no hindrance to the soul but a great help to it in everything that is good; whereas, if it labored hard at meditation in the way 4°Sl. John of the Cross, p. 517. 4tlbid., p. 620. 4Zlbid., p. 232. 4aRomano Guardini, The Life of Faith, translated by John Chapin (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1961), p. 106. 44Col 3:12-17; Lk 4:42-44. Principles of Prayer / 33"1 I have already described, this would indeed be a hindrance--in fact, I believe such labor is impossible for a'person who has attained greater heights. This may not be so with everyone, since God leads souls by many ways, but those who are unable to take this road should not be condemned or judged incapable of enjoying the great bless-ings contained in the mysteries of Jesus Christ our God.45 I do not say this without reason, for, as I have said, it is very important for us to realize that God does not lead us all by same road, and perhaps she who believes herself to be going along the lowest road is the highest in the Lord's eyes. So it does not follow that, because all of us in this house practice prayer, we are all perforce to be contem-platives. 46 God leads each one along different paths so that hardly one spirit will be found like another in even half its method of procedure.4~ Uniqueness of personality structure helps to specify what form and style of prayer is most appropriate for the individual. God works with and through our individuality. How dangerous, therefore, to simply adopt someone eise's manner of praying. Sheer imitation is not only foolish but can be injurious to one's spiritual life, leading to frustration and discourage-ment. A popul~tr expression states: "Different strokes for different folks!" So in the spiritual life: different prayers for different cares. Prayer is as varied as people with the commonality coming in the wor~d-.responsp pat-tern underl~,ing all communication between God and his pe6ple. Just as p.rayer varies from person to perso~n, prayer also varies within each person's life. During certain periods of faith developme'.~t'~, Vocal and formal pray.er may well be the best form of prayer for that time; at other stages, meditative or contemplative prayer may be in orde~r. Further, prayer styles may change within the course of a single week, even in the course of a single hour of prayer. Form and style is not the heart of the fiaatter; what is of essence is personal encounter with God. Once that experience hap-pens, we simply rest in his presence. "As soon as God's word makes its impact, we must leave all the rest and follow it."48 Prayer is a means to an end; the end is union with God. The paths to union are multiple. The necessary pluralism is threatened by stereotyping and rigid con-formity. Granting the validity, indeed the necessity, of a certain measure of uniformity in public prayer, the principle to be followed in personal, private prayer is that of freedom. Only the individual knows the context of his/her own life; it is the context that sets {he parameters for the form and style of prayer. Because our context is cbntinually changing, prayer forms must adapt themselves accordingly. Thus pluralism becomes a principle neces-sary for spiritual health and growth. ~sSt. Teresa, II, pp. 307-308. 46lbid., p. 69. 4TSt. John of the Cross, p. 633. 4~Hans Urs von Balthasar, Prayer, tr., A. V. Littledale (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1961), p. 108. ~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 10. Prayer Leads to Intimacy With God and to Solidarity With All Creation4~ It should be noted that until the soul reaches this state of union of love, she should practice love in both the active and contemplative life. Yet once she arrives, she should not become involved in other works and exterior exercises that might be of the slightest hindrance to the attentiveness of love toward God, even though the work be of great service to God. For a little of this pure love is more precious to God and the soul and more beneficial to the Church, even though it seems one is doing nothing, than all these other works put together.~ In prayer ! can enter into contact with the God who created me and all things out of love. In prayer I can find a new sense of belonging since it is there that I am most related We are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love:52 Activities find their meaning in terms of their goal. The end of the spiritual life is union with God and by means of this unity we are myste-riously united to all of creation. Oneness is attained by love; prayer is a central Iove-act'in our lives. Through the ongoing communication with God, we grow in mutual knowledge and respect until one day we awake to an intimacy incapable of description. The bonding here is subtle and myste-rious, powerfi)l and challenging. The Lord stands at the door knocking and a choice t]as to be made. Following our "Fiat," God comes to dwell with us and our homes are never the same. Prayer's unifying power does not terminate in intimacy with God alone. Authentic prayer necessitates ever deeper union with our brothers and sisters. To be united to the Father means to be united to his children, the entire family of God. The closer we are to the cross of Christ and the power of the Spirit, the closet" we are to all of life. By touching the fountain of life and holiness, we touch all creation. Thus, without prayer a sense of aliena-tion and isolation invades our hearts. Separated from the source we cannot come into vital contact with the created world. Prayer gives us entrance not only into the heart of our triune God but also into the mystery of his loving creation. Because prayer fosters intimacy it is not uncommon for fear to block our communication with God. Intimacy means to know and to be known whole; such radical sharing implies the possibility of radical rejection. Perhaps we are not sure that we are all that lovable. Thus it is in faith and trust that we approach our God, believing that he loves us unconditionally; it is with humility and courage that we approach our brothers and sisters knowing 49Ps 139: Jr 31:31-34. ~°St. John of the Cross, p. 523. ~Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Genesee Diary: Report from a Trappist Monastery (New York: Doubleday & Company. 1976), p. 51. ~2George Herbert, -The Little Black Boy." Principles of Prayer / 333 that through grace we can accept them and that they can accept us. Prayer involves revelation, acceptance and humility; it demands faith, trust and courage. Gifted by the Spirit, we enter the land of prayer and therein find our happiness. The Journey and the Map In discussing any one aspect of the spiritual life we must view it con-textually. This paper points out ten signs on the road to union: prayer as loving attention, prayer's relationship to love, prayer's need for discipline, prayer and proper identity, prayer's focus, the conditions for prayer, prayer's tonality, source of prayer, the principle of pluralism, and prayer's goal. A corresponding set of principles marking out other aspects of the terrain in the spiritual life could easily be worked out and these would provide meaning in such areas as ministry and asceticism. The map is large; we have considered but one aspect. Regardless of the principle and its specification, the destination is always the same: the experience of Love. That experience comes alive when we move from the map to the land it describes. Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called William Meninger, O.C.S.O. Father Meninger is a monk of St. Joseph's Abbey, Spencer, MA 01562. ~n the foreword to his beautiful treatise on contemplative prayer, the unknown author of the 14th century Cloud of Unknowing describes the kinds of persons who should, and those who should not read his little book. He swiftly eliminates: worldly gossips, flatterers, the scrupulous, busy-bodies, hypocrites, and those who are simply curious--whether they are educated or not. Then he goes on to describe those whom grace has pre-pared to grasp his message. These are people who, every now and then, taste something of contemplative love by way of the action of the Holy Spirit in the very center of their souls, exciting them to love. This ought to include, at some time or other of his or her life, every Christian. That is to say, contemplative prayer, in some form or other, really is for everyone. Instead of speaking of the "extra6rdinary" grace of contemplative prayer (the beginnings of which, at least, we are here equating with Centering Prayer), we should speak of the extraordinary grace of prayer itself. Given the great miracle of prayer itself, contemplative prayer, as well as every other degree or intensity of prayer, ought to follow naturally, as it were. Origen, one of the earliest of the fathers of the Church, in his com-mentary on the Our Father, says that the most marvelous thing about this prayer is not any particular phrase included in it, but the very fact that we can say it at all. The extraordinary grace lies in our God-given ability to bridge the infinite gap between God and man and to converse with him 334 Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called / 335 face to face, in a word, to pray. Once we understand this, the place con-templative prayer can and should have is no longer a problem. Prayer differs from prayer, not in essence, but merely in its degree of intensity. Basically the simplest recitation of the Our Father in faith, hope and love by .any child is the same as the most profound communion in a silence beyond words of the greatest mystic. The difference can be found in degree or intensity but not in the nature of prayer itself. In any prayer, of whatever type or intensity, the one praying so enters into the triune life of God that he becomes one with the Holy Spirit pre-cisely as the Spirit is the fullest expression of the love of the Father for the Son and of the Son for the Father. The one who prays becomes, as it were, the H01y Spirit, and ,this prayer activity becomes the trinitarian expression of God loving himself. What then is contemplative prayer? How does it differ in intensity from other degrees of prayer? To answer these questions we have to look at prayer as a human relationship. For this, indeed, it truly is: a relationship with God, of course;but because it is the relationship of a human person with God it must, as are ~ali his relationships, be a human relationship. A simple' understanding of this obvious fact will take us a long way in understanding prayer. The man-to-God relationship is human. Obviously it is a graced rela~ tionship, but, nonetheless, it is still human. A man-to-man relationship is also human, and it is by understanding this kind of relationship that we can come to a deeper understanding of the man,to-God, or prayer re]ationship. Let us take a concrete example of a human, man-to-woman relationship and see how it helps us to understand our prayer-,relationship with God, 'At some .social gathering, let us say, a party, John meets Mary. And, of course, Mary meets John. The hostess introduces them in typical fashion: "John, I would like you tomeet my good friend, Mary. Mary, I would like you to meet my cousin, John. John, you will be happy to know that Mary is also a rabid baseball fan!" The hostess then walks away, leaving them together. Now, if John and Mary simply stand there awkwardly staring at nothing and saying nothing, the relationship will end before it really begins. However, this is why the hostess, conscious of her role, has indicated their mutual interest in baseball. It provides them with enough background to pursue their acquaintanceship. And so, with so superficial and external a beginning, John and Mary enter that level of human relationship that we call acquaintance. It is not a deep relationship. Even so, should they find it difficult to continue the conversation, the ensuing silence would be uncomfortable, even embar-rassing. Still, at this level, such personal things as deeper aspirations, peak experiences, intimate feelings, or life goals are not shared. This, then, isa human relationship on the first, most primitive level that. of acquaintance. The couple meet, introduced by a third party who gives 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 them some mutual background, and they pursue the relationship from there--or allow it to die. Understanding that our prayer relationship is simply a human relationship with God,. it, too, must have an acquaintance level. And it does. This began for most of us in early childhood when a third party, perhaps our mother or father, introduced us to God, gave us some background (as the hostess did to John and Mary), and told us that God loved us and would answer prayers. "This is Jesus. He is God. He loves you and will answer your prayers." And so we began our first level of relationship with God, the level of acquaintance. This level expresses itself mostly in the simpler prayers requesting favors or in memorized prayers said without any profound comprehension. We have many relationships on this first level--we have many mere acquaintances. The tCagedy is that for some, the relationship with God never develops beyond this level. Their prayer life is limited to periodic appeals for divine help in times of trouble. But let us return to our example of John and Mary. As a result of the small talk characteristic of their acquaintance-relationship, each begins to recognize in the other certain qualities which make their relationship worth pursuing. Each desires to get to know the other better. In order to do this, they make a "date," they make arrangements to get together, just the two of them, so they can share and become further acquainted with those attractive qualities they are beginning to recognize in each other. Now they begin to reveal more and more of their personal feelings, experiences, ideas and goals in their conversation. Perhaps John tells Mary things about himself that he has never before revealed to anyone. And her response is more sympathetic than any he has ever found before. Some-times this response is merely a comfortable, accepting silence; for no longer is silence between them awkward and uncomfortable. It is no longer a negative thing but as they get to know each other better and better, what had been just a void becomes filled with one another. They have now entered, not into a different kind of human relationship, but into a deeper, more intense one. We will call this deeper level the relationship of friend-ship. Remembering that our prayer relationship with God is also a human relationship, we willexpect to find the same thing happening here. After we become acquainted with God, on the first level, we begin to recognize that He has qualities worth pursuing. And so we do just what John and Mary did--we make a "date" with God! We go apart with him in order to learn more about him and also to reveal to him intimate, personal thoughts and concerns. This is done in many, many different ways. We may attend some form of religious instruction where we learn to know God better. We may read and meditate and listen to the Scriptures where God personally reveals himself to us. Whatever the source, we begin to allow his truths to form our Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called / 337 lives. We talk over with him our successes and failures, our new begin-nings. We internalize his truths and live his life of grace as we witness them in others or as we read the reflections of others about them. In other words by reflection or "discursive meditation," as we call it, we become ac-customed to speaking with God on a personal level, revealing ourselves to him, and, at the same time, learning about him from the truths of his revelation. Our acquaintanceship with God has deepened to the level of friendship. It would be well here to emphasize one point. The friendship between John and Mary is going to endure only as long as~ in some way or other, they continue to find interest in sharing with one another, to '~date" in some fashion or other. They must, even if it is only by telephone or by mail, keep up contact with one another. We have all experienced the strangeness of an old friendship which, after years without contact, descends once again into the awkwardness of mere acquaintance. And so it is with God. If we are to continue with him, we must per-severe in our spiritual reading, in our reflective meditation. Friendships do not remain stable. Either they are cultivated and grow, or they lessen. God, by reason of the free, bountiful bestowal of his grace, is always actively encouraging a growth in our friendship with him--Imagine! He finds quali-ties in us worth pursuing! It remains for us to cooperate. Let us look now at the third level of a developing human relationship as we see it in John and Mary. 'As they continue to grow closer to one another, the relationship be-tween John and Mary takes on physical overtones. They desire not only the intimacy of shared thoughts, but also physical closeness. This is the time when they are hardly ever seen alone. Walking arm in arm, holding hands, embracing--all these manifestations emerge now. This level of relationship, sometimes called romantic love or affection (the affective level), when it has been preceded by a genuine friendship, represents an authentic growth in John and Mary's relationship. If it has not been preceded by friendship in some way, it is merely an animal relationship. This affective relationship will develop most completely in marriage where the sharing of both per-sonalities and bodies find their fullest expression. But how can this human relationship on the physical, affective level express itself in our human, prayer relationship with God? It must do this somehow if, as we have been insisting, our prayer-relationship is a human one. And it does! Spiritual masters have given us many descriptions of this level of prayer. Some even refer to it as "the honeymoon period'~ because of its brevity, its place early in the prayer-relationship, and because of its emotional (physical, affective) elements. During this period, prayer often takes the form of intimate conversations with God, not infrequently accompanied by tears~ profound, emotionally felt sorrow for sins and a lively joy at the 33~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 realization of God's love and redemptive activity. This period (as well as the earlier friendship level) may often be interspersed with longer or shorter periods of dryness or aridity as God leads us into a deeper, firmer relation-ship. One o.f the most obvious forms of this affective prayer-relationship with God is seen in the charismatic renewal. When someone is prayed over for the anointing of the Spirit, he is not infrequently "zapped," as it were. This is often accompanied by tea~s, intermingled with expressions of joy and a desire to express and to share with others the abundant overflow of graces. More often, perhaps, it is a quieter experience which serves to fill and inform the basic prayer structures presented by the Church for our worship. This affective level has a great deal to do with the effectiveness of our formal prayer. In the liturgy, for example, the priest is given a structure (readings, prayers, canon). The power in grace that this structure is able to communicate depends in great part (though not entirely) on the depth, of faith, hope and love of the minister. On the part of the participant, the level of his affective prayer-relationship with God will determine to a great extent how much he will grasp of the readings and prayers. In other words, our affective prayer-relationship with God is dependent on our friendship with him. If we do not keep faithful to our periodic "dates" with him, going apart with him for a while, then our affective prayer relationship, as well as our friendship, will degenerate to mere acquaintanceship. Now for a final look at John and Mary. Picture them, if you will, after many years of a long, sometimes difficult, but still happy marriage. Their children are grown, married and gone. John and Mary are back where they began--just the two of them sitting alone of an evening in their home. John perhaps is reading the sports page. Mary is knitting booties for a grand-child. Neither is speaking. Indeed, Mary knows by now just how John feels about everything under the sun. John is equally aware of Mary's thoughts. Yet there is a deep communion between them that does not require words. They are happy just to be in one another's presence. This is what we call the relationship of love. Verbal expressions, words and symbols are no longer necessary or even adequate for John and Mary to communicate. Their deepest relationship is known, felt and expressed by something much more complete than the partial, inadequate attempts to verbalize it. Presence to one another without words or other external signs can be the fullest expression of this human relationship of love. And so it isqn our developing relationship with God. The fourth level of our prayer is the relationship of love, or, what we call "contemplative prayer." It is a simple, quiet, peaceful abiding in his presence, One old man who spent hours daily in the church was once asked by St. John Vianney what he did during all that time. "I don't do anything," he replied. "I just Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called / 339 look at him and he looks at me." This is contemplative prayer! Contemplative prayer is a very natural, very simple, albeit graced thing which is lived rather than taught. It is a quiet, loving gazing on the face of God (with the eyes of the soul) who is recognized, often even felt by his touching the soul, as present. God is known now, not through the medi-ation of words, or thoughts, or things. These have been used in earlier relationships and have served their purpose. God is seen now with and within the innermost center of the soul, not in light but in darkness, a darkness which is not the mere absence of light but the blinding effulgence of infinite light. He is heard now, not in words, but in the Word who cries "Abba, Father" in the Holy Spirit in a profound and filled silence. One other thing ought to be mentioned in regard to all of the levels of our prayer relationship with God. We must respond in accord with each level of relationship to the voice of God as he manifests his will in our lives. This involves a genuine attempt to make central in our lives the Great Commandment of love, a wholehearted and generous response to the guid-ance of his Church, a frequent and informed participation in 'the sacra-ments, and a continued effort to carry out the duties of our particular vocation in life. Eventually these things will themselves be seen as part of our prayer-relationship also. The distinction between prayer and activity will become less and less significant until everything we do becomes a response to, and thus a part of, our prayer life. It is important to stress the normality of these relationships--both with others in our daily life and with God in our prayer. The progression from acquaintanceship to love is a natural one (and only because of this is it able to be a supernatural one--grace builds on nature). We are all called to love God. And as Saint Bernard says: "The measure of our love is to love without measure." The precise manner or tradition or school of spirituality which we em-ploy to develop and express this love will vary with various individuals. There are many ladders of ascent to God. Each has to find his or her own way. Nonetheless, it remains true that in our day, the approach to God sometimes called Centering Prayer" or "the work of love" (as it is termed in the, fourteenth-century Cloud of Onknowing) has proven helpful to many either as an introduction to contemplative prayer or as a simple, system-atic approach which clarifies and facilitates contemplation. Centering Prayer i:loes presuppose, in some way or other, that we are ready for the love-relationship with God, that we have already passed through the levels of acquaintanceship, friendship, and affection, that we do feel, as the Cloud of Unknowing says, "every now and then a taste of contemplative love, by way of the action of the Holy Spirit in the very center of their souls, exciting them to love." Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope for the Human Personality in St. John of the Cross Joyce Hampel, C.S.J. This article is an outgrowth of a graduate course followed by Sister Joyce at Gonzaga Univer-sity in Washington. She resides in Star of the Sea Convent: 4350 Geary Blvd. : San Francisco, CA 94118. ~t begins, according to St. John of the Cross, with a certain burning Jove. God reaches down, takes your hand, and guides you along the way to a place you know not (N 2, 16, 7*). There you no longer understand by means of your natural light, but by means of the divine wisdom to which you are united. You no Iong.er love in a lowly manner, but with the strength and purity of the Holy Spirit. Your memory, too, is changed into presentiments of eternal glory (N 2, 4, 2). Having reached the end of your journey of love, you and your beloved are one. "Happy is the life and state," declares St. John of the Cross, "and happy the person who attains it" (C 28, 10). John of the Cross images the human personality as participant in the life of the living God. For the person seeking God, it is God who communicates himself. And it is in the transformation of the person in God that the two become one, "as a window united with a ray of sunlight, or coal with fire, or starlight with the light of the sun" (C 26, 4). Throughout John's writings, *Symbols: A, The Ascent of Mount Carmel N, The Dark Night C, The Spiritual Canticle" F, The Living Flame of Love 340 Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope in John of the Cross / 34"1 the human person is challenged to a process of awakening and purification, making him more and more capable of God. This transformation is par-ticularly emphasized as a growth into freedom realized in fourareas of human life: stillness of spirit, radical simplicity, authentic love, and intimate knowledge of Christ the Word. Essential to each of these is the new life of God rooted in the soul, comparable in John to the perfected evolution of aged wine and tried lovers. In his Spiritual Canticle, John's bride-soul sings: In the inner wine cellar I drank of my Beloved, and, when I went abroad Through all this valley I no longer knew anything, And lost the herd which I was following (stanza 26). The image of wine is for John a helpful one in instructing spiritual persons. It suggests all the stages of spiritual growth, and parallels the relationship between lovers. "New lovers," says John, "are comparable to new wine. They are beginners in the service of God" (C 25, 10). While in the process of fermentation, wine is incomplete; its good qualities and value are uncertain, and its taste is sharp. New lovers are also in a process of fermentation. They often rely on exterior fervor, finding strength in the "savor of love" alone. Such love cannot be trusted; in fact, it carries such anxieties that the lovers are more often fatigued than refreshed. Just as this fervor and the warmth of sense can incline one to good and perfect love, and serve as a beneficial means for such love by a thorough fermentation of the lees of imperfection, so too it is very easy in these beginnings and in this novelty of tastes that the new wine of love fails and loses its fervor and delight (C 25, 10). On the other hand, old wine offers transformed refreshment. Its fer-mentation is complete, its good quality is evident, its taste is smooth. The strength of aged wine lies not in the taste, however, but in the substance. "Old !overs," reflects John, "~hose who are exercised and tried in the service of the Bridegroom, are like old wine" (C 25, 11). The souls are at rest, afflictions of love no longer burden the sense of spirit. "Spiced wine" flows in them from the "balsam of God" (C stanza 25). Such love is based not on sensible delights, as is th~ love of new lovers, but settled within the soul, in spiritual substance and savor, and truly good works (C 2~, I I). John's hope for the human personality is reflected in this example of tried love: the person is still and rests in his Beloved; sensory delights and dangers no longer affect him, for he loves only One; the essence of the " person seeks a quality of love that is purged of selfishness and hardly ever fails the Beloved; and knowledge of God clothes the person with a di~)inity that, as we shall see, is fastened on Christ alone (A 2, 22, 5). 342 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 In reflecting on the perfection of the human personality, we so often think of human capabilities as powers--powers that men and women use to control, 6r at least influence, an external force. John of the Cross, however, speaks not so much of power.or amassed capabilities as he does of sur-render. The person chooses, having already experienced the infinite love of the Lord, to hand over to him all his powers. Human perfection rests, then, in allowing another, the one who is totally other, to move him. It is a process of holding back desire~, of permitting another to enter your life, of losing some of self in order to become gr~eater. This first movement toward stillness of spirit is described in John's Ascent of Mount Carmel. "Renounce and remain empty of any sensory satisfaction that is not purely for the honor and glory of God" (A 1, 13, 14); "enter into complete nudity, emptiness, and poverty in everything" (A 1, 13, 6). Such a self-emptying will bring the stillness that one desires. John's diagram of the ascent speakseven more clearly: In this nakedness the spirit finds its quietude and rest. For in coveting nothing, nothing raises it up and nothing weighs it down, because it is in the center of its humility. When it covets something in this very desire it is wearied.(A 1, 13, 11). The mark of a person who has achieved this spirit is that he is able to "abide in quietude" (A 2, 12, 8). He can give loving attentiveness to the Lord because he has learned to be empty. Like the wine that has stopped effer-vescing, he is still. The journey that is ahead of him will surely bring darkness and pain, but trust in God effects its own inner peace. It is significant .to mention the underlying attitude that accompanies a still heart. The' person must be able to see himself in relation to God, and to exercise the patience that will allow transformation in God to happen. This is one of John's hopes for the human personality, but not everyone achieves it. Many "would rather want all to be perfect, but God finds fe~v vessels that will endure so lofty and sublime a work" (F 2, 27). Waiting is the first act of love. "God usually does things, not so there will be an immediate understanding of them, but that afterwards at the proper time, or when the effect is produced, one may receive light about them" (A 2, 20, 3). God knows what he is doing. It is we who do not know how to be still in his hands. The second characteristic John anticipates is radical simplicity. In the darkness of its cask, wine becomes mellow when the lees of the grapes settle. The liquid has taken into itself the deep color of the skins and drawn from the pulp its delicate flavors. But the wine must be purged of the sediment before it can exhibit the valued clarity. So too with the spiritual journeyer. Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope in John of the Cross / 343 To journey to God, the will must walk in detachment from every pleasant thing, rather than in attachment to it. It thus carries out well the commandment to love, which is to love God above all things; this cannot be done without nakedness and emptiness concerning them all (F 3, 51). Such poverty requires radical denial and convergent vision. For John, this implies a todo-nada approach to the search for human fulfillment in God. You must want nothing and have nothing in order to possess everything: :For to go from all to the all you must deny yourself of all in all. And when you come to the possession of the all you must possess it without wanting anything. Because if you desire to have something in all your treasure in God is not purely your hll (A 1, 13, 11). All sensory desires, all thoughts,oall imaginings, all passions must find their satisfaction in the mercy of God alone. At the same time, the person must consider the life God offers him his only treasure. To rely on appre-hensions, natural or supernatural, would be to hold God in less esteem than we should. "God makes the ~soul die to all that he is not, so that when it is stripped and flayed of its old skin, he may clothe it anew., and thus this soul will be a soul of heaven, heavenly and mor.e divine than human" (N 2, 16, 7). The human person becomes more than the limitations of his appetites formerly allowed. The person becomes divine. "God loves us," writes John to one of his directees, "that we might love b~ means of the very love he bears toward us" (Letter 33). Embodied in this statement is John's third hope foi" human growth, authentic love. It is not enough to love what is good and to'avoid what is evil. An investment must be made of all that is truly human. Every passion, e~,ery hope, must be purified and directed toward the Lord of all ~reation. John admonishes 'the spiritual person to Rejoice only in what is purely for God's honor and glory, hope for nothing else, feel sorrow only about matters pertaining to this, and fear only God (A 3, 16, 2). Joy,, hope, sorrow; and fear are worthy of human attention only insofar as they are bound to God. "My every act is love,'? says the bride of the Spiritual Canticle. "Everything I do, I do with love, and everything I suffer, .I suffer with the delight of love" (C 28, 4). Authentic love immerses the total person in a self-effacing commitment. One loves with one's bodyand with one's spirit, with emotions as well as intellect. The will seeks only to love with the love of God, to "reach the consummation of the love of God" and the "essential glory to which he predestined her from the day of his eternity." (C 38, 2). In reflecting the gift of the whole person, authentic love brings the sensitive and the spiritual parts of the person into conformity with each other. The "sensory faculties ¯ ~.'. share in and enj6y in their own fashion the spiritual grandeurs which God is communicating 'in the inwardness of the spirit" (C 40, 5). To refer 344 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 once again to the quality of aged wine or old lovers, individual elements intermingle to become essentially one creation, new and ever fulfilling. Union with the Beloved requires stillness, simplicity, and authentic love. Consummation of that union requires an intimate knowledge of Christ the Word. "Fasten your eyes on him alone," instructs God the Father, "because in him I have spoken and revealed all, and in him you shall discover even more than you ask for and desire" (A 2, 22, 5). Left to his own, the human person cannot know God. Echoing the words of the prophet Isaiah~ his eyes have never even seen the things that God wills for him. Christ came to reveal to mankind the Father. It was in his humanity, in his life of human joys and disappointments and hopes and pain that Jesus calls us to our human perfection. "I have now called you my friends," he says, "because all that I have heard from my Father I have manifested to you" (Jn 15:15, see C 28, 1). To imitate Jesus in all that one does is John of the Cross' teaching; to live with Jesus in union with the Father is his hope. Even though this happy night darkens the spirit, it does so only to impart light concerning all things: and even though it humbles a person and reveals his miseries, it does so only to exalt him; and even though it impoverishes him and empties him of all possessions and natural affection, it does so only that he may reach out divinely to the enjoyment of all earthly and heavenly things, with a general freedom of spirit in them all (N 2, 9, 1). Do not seek Christ without the cross, John writes; let Jesus be in your soul (Letters 22 & 23). It is Jesus who is the true wine of life. He is the one who brings the person to intimate knowledge of Father-care and Spirit-love. The wine cellar is .the last and most intimate degree of love in which the soul can be placed in this life (C 26, 3). It is filled, relates John, with the gifts of the Holy Spirit in perfection "according to the soul's capacity for receiv-ing them." Even here the gentleness of the all-consuming God allows for differences in the human personality, and brings to each person those gifts that will best fulfill him. Bridegroom and bride "mutually communicate their goods and delights with a wine of savory love in the Holy Spirit" (C 30, 1). How gently and lovingly You wake in my heart, Where in secret you dwell alone; And by your sweet breathing, Filled with good and glory, How tenderly you swell my heart with love! (Living Flame, stanza 4) It begins with God. God reaches down, takes your hand, and guides you along the way to-a place of ineffable love. He teaches you to be still and to await his touch. He strips you of all that is not himself. He draws forth love that is like his own. He gifts you'with the life of Jesus his Son. There are Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope in John of the Cross 345 two kinds of life according to John of the Cross. One consists in the v~sion of God, which must be attained by natural death; "the other is the perfect spiritual life, the possession of God through union of love" (F 2, 32). This union is John's ultimate hope for the human personality--total transforma-tion in the immense love of the Triune God. REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer," H. F. Smith, S.J . 30 "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice," M. Oliva, S.J . 50 "Celibate Genitality," W. F. Kraft . 50 ¯ "Celibacy and Contemplation," D. Dennehy, S.J . "i. ¯ .30 "Colloquy of God with a Soul that Truly Seeks Him" . . 30 "Consciousness Examen," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Institutional Business Administration & Religious," Flanagan and O'Connor . 30 "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" S.C. for Religious . 35 "Prayer of Personal Reminiscence," D. J. Hassell S.J . 60 "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development," P. Cristantiello . 60 "Retirement or Vigii," B. Ashley, O.P . 30 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .75 "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio," M. Neuman, O.S.B . 50 "The Four Moments of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . . . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindeli Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience Francis X. J. Coleman Dr. Coleman is Associate P~'ofessor of Philosophy at Boston University; 745 Commonwealth ¯ Ave.; Boston, MA 02215. When picturing Christfin the way I have mentioned, and sometimes even while reading, I used to experience a consciousness of the presence of God of such a kind that I could not possibly dotibt that He was within me or that 1 wgs wholly engulfed in Him? On September 27, 1970, Pope Paul VI conferred the title of Doctor of the Church on St. Teresa of Avila, thereby placing her in the ranks of such giants as St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas. In his homily delivered at St. Peter'.s Basilica," the pope. spoke of Teresa as "the reformer and founder of an historic and eminent religious order,'~ a prolific writer of great genius, teacher of the spiritual life, an incomparable contemplative who was tire-lessly active." The pope went on to speak of "the holiness of her life. a value which was already officially proclaimed as early as March 12, 1622---St. Teresa died 30 years before--by our predecessor Gregory XV." The pope enquired concerning the source of Teresa's doctrine: :'And we might mention another particular point, the charism of wisdom, which ~AII quotations from St. Teresa's writings are drawn I~rom The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, tr. and ed., E. Allison Peers, from the critical.edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, O.C.D. (Sheed and Ward, London and New York: 1950). This citation is from Life, chapt. X. 2The Italian text is in L'Osservatore Romano, Sept. 29, 1970. 3He is referring to the Order of Discalced Carmelites. 346 St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 347 makes us think of the most attractive and at the same time most myst, erious aspect of St. Teresa's title of Doctor: the flow of divine inspiration in this prodigious and mystical writer. From where did the wealth of her do°ctrine come to Teresa?" ~ After mentioning Teresa's cultural and spiritual education, her conver-sations with great masters of theology, her singular sensibility and ascetic discipline, pope Paul asked whether ther~e was not another sourc~ of her "eminent doctrine: . Ought we not re~zognize in St. Teresa acts, facts and states which did not come from her but were undergone by her, things both endured and suffered, mystical things in the" t'rue sense of the word. '~" Pope Paul was sensitive to the grea~t difficulties involved in mystical experience: "'The originality of mystic'ai.adtion is one of the'most delicate and complex of psychological phenomena. Many factors can play a part in ~t, and they oblige the observer to rnaint~ain the severest caution," though he went on to imply that there are som+ who would deny the very possibility of mystical experience itself: ". 15sychoS_nalytic exploration is breaking down that frail and complicated instrument that we are, in such a way that all that can be heard is not the sound~i~f mankind in its sufferin~ and its redemption, but rather the troubled h~utterings of man's animal subcon-scious, the cries of his "disordered passions and of his desperate anguish." What, .then, were the "'acts, facts and states" which did not' originate from Teresa but "were undergone by her"? What are "mystical things in the true sense of the word," according to the first woman doctor of the Church? In this paper i shall attempt some.'answer to these questions. In the first part I shall give a broad survey of the varieties of mystical data to be found in Teresa's writings. These data fall into three main categories: locutions, visions and ecstasies. Then I shall describe how Teresa first reacted to her experiences, what was her reflective doctrine con~zeining the methods of distinguishing demonic deception and/or self-decepti~)n from authentic mystical experience. Next I shall turn to a contemporary of Teresa who recorded his own thoughts concern'ing the supposedly super-natural events in her life. And, finally and ver~;'briefly, I shall attempt a tentative conclusion regarding her value and a method of approaching her .for readers of today. Before beginning,' however, 1 believe it is essential to define the proper place of mystical experience within the Catholic faith. When my,stical ex.pe-rience is construed as some merely private revelation, or when it is con-strued to be irrational, insidious errors inevitably ensue, both of a doctrinal and of a personal sort. Mystical experience must never be pitted against rationality; on the contrary, the immediate experience of the infinite and the transcendent is the ultimate expression of rationality. And, when mystical experience does entail privaie revelation, the sin of pride is always lurking: the mystic may affirm propositions at variance with the traditional and authoritative teachings of the Church, and contumacy is quick to follow. 341~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 As a highly intelligent woman, St. Teresa was aware of how readily people deceive themselves. She knew that there is a special temptation for religious.to delude themselves into believing ttiemselves to be the chosen recipients of some particular revelation. She was especially suspicious of the Alumbrados, or llluminists.,., The Alumbrados were in.many ways the sixteenth-century counterparts of some types of charismatics and other seekers of special gifts in our own day. The Alumbrados were not a sect of Catholicism, but rather a collective term for small groups of priests and lay persons who practiced what they thought to be a new and interior form of Christianity. Opposed to cere-monial liturgical celebration, t.hey placed much emphasis on mental prayer, in the course of which it was assumed that the mind would be subject to a "kindling," a "spiritual flight towards God." Such experiences led to confidence in one's own salvation, the shedding of all fear. In this there were dangerous resemblances to some. contemporary forms of Luther-anism. Moreover, such experience, s were indications of the possession of the state of grace, and the absolute exclusion of sin. Teresa's suspicions stemmed not only from the taint of heresy in their doctrines, but also because the Alumbrados were publically extravagant, laying claim to direct access to the Holy Spirit. To Teresa, the ecstasies and visions of the Alumbrados were either unintentional self-deceptions or intentional deceptions wrought by others upon the hapless victims. Teresa knew, and heard of, nuns who had worked themselves into states that resembled mystical,experience by excessive abuses in the area of penances, with consequent deterioration of their health. In our own day, we know that so-called "hallucinogenic" drugs of various sorts have been used even delibera.tely to replicate the behavioral and bodily manifestations of mys-tical experience. But the result, then as now, is counterfeit. Teresa confesses that she had been influenced by the Alumbrados when she was twenty years of age and had read Fray Osuna. Yet, as her thought and her mystical theology mature, she places less and I~ss emphasis on the sensuous details of her mystical experiences, and more and more weight upon the ineffable and analogical knowledge that is part of such experience, The earliest vision described by Teresa occurred when she was about twenty-one years of age. It must be borne in mind, however, that the description appears in Chapter VII of her Life, the rough draught of which she completed when she was forty-seven years old. Teresa confesses that she had a friendship with a certain woman which was "not good" for her. Although Teresa does not go into details, she states that "Christ revealed himself to me, in an attitude of great sternness, and showed me what was in this that displeased him. I saw him with the eyes of the soul more clearly than I could ever have seen him with those of the body . ,,4 In Chapter X ofherLife, Teresa distinguishes the sort of experience just ~Life, chapt. Vll. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 349 described from the one that she describes as a suspension of the soul. She complains of her imagination, i.e., the ability to conjure up at will a mental image or picture of someone or something, that it was so feeble that if she did not actually see a thing, she could not use her imagination "as other people do, who can make pictures to themselves . "~ Teresa was conse-quently very fond of images and pictures. Although she tried to imagine Christ inwardly, no matter how much she read about him, she could never succeed. She compared herself to a blind person who knows he is talking to some6ne but cannot see him. "I used unexpectedly to experience a consciousness of the presence of God, of such a kind that I could~not possibly doubt that he was within me or that l was wholly engulfed in him.: This was in no sense a vision: I believe it is called mystical theology.''6 Teresa's description of this experience of"divine engulfment" may well have been deformed by the lapse of some twenty-five years when she wrote about it. At any rate, she does not want to call"such an experience a "vision" because the soul does not "see~' anything. "The soul is sus-l~ ended in such a way that it seems to be completely outside itself. Th~ will loves; the memory, I think, is almost lost; while the understanding, I be-lieve, though it is not lost, does not reason--I mean that it does not work, but is amazed at the extent of all it can understand . ,,7 Teresa's "visions," then, do not become rich and graphic until much later in her Life, beginning in Chapter XXXI. Even these, though, were not had by the bodily eye: they were not in a~ny sense objective, shareable, "out there." But neither did the visions consist in a series of merely mental images, for Teresa complains often of her extremely feeble eidetic imagina-tion. She describes these visions as "inward disturbances" and finds it impossible not to detect in them the hand of the devil.~ Teresa felt herself powerless to resist the devil at such times. She felt interior disquiet, but was afraid to ask the other nuns to assist her through the use of holy water (she had learned "from long experience''9 that holy water is the best method to put devils to flight). In one of her most dramatic and painterly visions,;Teresa beheld, while in a state of rapture, a great battle between devils and angels. At the time, she could not understandthe meaning of the vision. A fortnight later, she saw that it was an allegory of nuns, those who did not practice prayer, and those who did.~° In 1559, shortly before the decision to found her first convent~ Teresa had a vision which carried her spirit to a place in .hell. Her description assails each of the senses: "evil-smelling mud," "wicked-looking reptiles," and a claustrophobic sense of containment: "There was a hollow place scooped out of a wall, like a cupbgard, and it was here that I found myself 5Complete Works, I, p. 55. 8Ibid., p. 204. 61bid., p. 58. Slbid., p. 207. 7lbid. 1°Ibid., pp. 208-9. $$0 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 in clos%confinement.''n She suffered from "an oppression, a suffocation and an affliction so deeply felt, and accompanied by such hopeless and distressing misery''t=' that she could not describe it too strongly. Worse than the physical pains were the pains of despair and "interior fires." She felt herself being both burned and dismembered. She was stifled. She found herself in the blackest darkness, .yet she was able to "see everything the sight of which can cause affliction.''t'~ This vision must have occurred when Teresa was about forty-one. When she compared it to the terrible and painful paralysis which struck her at the age of seventeen, she~concluded that the vision of hell was incom-parably more painful. The vision "happened in the briefest space of time."14 Sometimes Teresa's visions were of holy persons who came through such visitations to give her advice. St. Peter of Alcantara, for example, a reformer of the Franciscan Order during the Counter-Reformation, ap-peared to her in a vision to reconfirm his admonition that her convents must not be permitted endowments)5 At other times, Teresa had visions of a dove fluttering over her head, albeit the dove was very different from those one sees on earth: ¯. for it had not feathers like theirs, but its wings were made of little shells which emitted a great brilliance. It was larger than a dove: 1 seem to hear the rustling of its wings. It mu~;t have been fluttering like this for the space of an Ave Maria. But my soul was in such a state that, as it became lost to itself, it also lost sight of the dove.16 According to Teresa's own testimony, the most sublime vision that she ever experienced recurred on four occasions. It involved seeing the Humanity of Christ in a greater glory than she had ever known. Teresa seemed to see herself in the presence of the Godhead.17 The vision, and its recurrences, had the effect of purifying her soul and almost destroying her sensual nature. Using one of her favorite images, that of a consuming fire, Teresa writes .that the vision, through excess, burnt up all her desires for vain things, such as worldly possessions and dignities. The vision made her hair stand on end, causing her "to feel completely annihilated.''is Once, when she was to communicate at-Mass, Teresa saw "with the eyes of the soul, more clearly than ever I could with those of the body, two devils of most hideous aspect,''19 who seemed to have their horns around the priest's throat while heconsecrated. Teresa understood that the priest's soul was in morthl sin, yet this fact did not invalidate the Sacrament. Although she makes no explicit reference to it, this vision gave to Teresa a direct, experiential disproof.of the Donatist heresy. Teresa wryly commented, after describing one vision with elaborate ltl'bid., pp. 215-16. ~';lbid., p. 281. rZlbid., p. 216. t:~lbid. 171bid., p. 273¯ ~lbid., p. 274: ~41bid., p. 215. ~91bid., p. 275. ~lbid., p. 257. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 351 ~ detail, one which was thronged with figures of angels and demons,"° that she does not mind writing all sorts of nonsense provided that she can write sense sometimes, and :bring people closer to God. In regard to the vision just:described, she says that it "will seem meaningless" until it. is seen as an allegory of the teaching that one should not put much trust in anyone, for there is none who never changes except God."~ ~Teresa's visionscan be of an extraordinarily"personal nature. In her Spiritual Relations, Teresa recounts how Christ revealed himself to her "in an imaginary vision, most interiorly," and gave her his right hand, saying, "Behold this nail. It is a sign that from today onward'thou shalt .be my bride . My honor is thine, and thine mine.'.'zz Later in the same work she describes how he gave her a beautiful rihg.with a stone like an amethyst, only brighter, as a pledge that he promised to grant all that she asked him. Yet Teresa quickly breaks off this account with, "1 write this foolish-heSS . ,,23 Even though the imaginary visions ceasedtowards the end of her'life, Teresa was still able to write a year before her °death, from Palencia, in the year 1581, that she still seems to experiencethe intellectual vision of the Three Persons of the Trinity and of Christ's humanity. She states very simply: "I realize now, I think, that the visions which 1 have had were of God, for they prepared my soul for the state in which it now is.'''4 I shall give a much briefer description of Teresa's locutions, mainly because she does so herself, even though they are no less important than her visions. Teresa speaks of her first locution in Chapter XIX of her Life. Finding that many of her sisters were only peripherally religious, Teresa wondered why so few of them.had a true calling, as she believed herself to have. Teresa heard: "Serve thou Me, and meddle not with this.''25 Later, at the age of 42, filled with self-doubt as well as doubts concerning certain friendships, Teresa, at the direction of P. Baltasar Alvarez, recited the hymn Veni Creator. She hea?d the words: "I will have thee converse now, not with men, but with angels.''2" Her locutions are usually brief but always of translucent clarity and distinctness. "Be not troubled; have no fear,"~r or, "1 have heard you; let Me alone.''2s Sometimes they are of a practical nature: "What dost thou fear? When have 1 ever failed thee? I am the same nowas I have always been. Do not give up either of these two foundations,' ,29 or simply, "That is the house for thee.'''~° And sometimes intensely familiar: "Now, Teresa, hold thou fast.''z~ The locutions sometimes seem condescending: "Thou wilt act very 2°lbid., p. 286. 261bid., p. 155. 211bid., p. 287. Z7lbid., p. 200. 2Zlbid., p. 352. ~Slbid., I1!, p. 130. Zalbid,, p. 353. 2~lbid., p. 167. 24lbid., p. 335. Z°lbid., p. 171. ZSlbid., p. !15. ~lbid., p. 194. 352 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 foolishly, daughter, if thou regardest the laws of the world. Fix thine eyes on Me . ":~" Sometimes the locutions instructed her~ why she must not have further raptures in public: "It is not fitting just now. Thou hast as much credit as I desire thee to have . 1 shall cite only one example of Teresa's ecstasies, because this well-known ecstasy suffices. Teresa's own description of the transverberation of her heart occurs in Chapter XXIX of her Life. The ecstasy and vision occurred throughout several days. On her left hand, an angel in bodily form, rather short and beautiful, appeared:with a long, golden spear in his hands. At the end of the iron tip was what seemed like a point of fire. The angel "seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire, with a great love of God.":~4 II It should not be surprising that when Teresa began telling friends and confessors about such extraordinary events, some persons were certain that she was. possessed,by the devil and should be exorcised?'~ Exorcism was as common, and believed to be as efficacious, in sixteenth-century Spain, as psychoanalysis is in twentieth-century America. In their later lives both St. Teresa and St.: John of the Cross were well known for their prowess in exorcising evil spirits. Teresa, however, was herself never exor-cised. Instead, her confessors commanded her to make the Sign of the Cross whenever she had a vision,, and then to make a sign~ of contempt?~ At one point in her life Teresa herself was afraid that all her spiritual favors might be illusions?7 We know from~a deposition taken from Teresa's niece that Teresa was greatly distressedl when her raptures came upon her in public, and embarrassed when she had to confess her spiritual favors to her confessors.an Teresa had a keen eye for religious fraud and excess. She writes that women are especially susceptible to ruining their health because of exces-sive prayer; ~igils and severe penances. Such women become frail and languorous, falling into stupors which they deceive themselves into think-ing are spiritual?9 She knew that many supposedly religious raptures were nothing but the result of inanition or bad health?° In her own convents, she 321bid., I, p. 338. 33lbid., p. 339. ¯ ~lbid., pp. 192-93. ~lbid., p. 188. a6See ibid., p. 165, n. 3 for the nature of this contemptuous motion. a71bid., p. 287. aSlbid., Ill, p. 366. The niece, also nam.ed Teresa de Jesus, was born in Quito, in present-day Ecuador, in 1566. a9lbid., II, pp. 245-46. For other spiritual excesses condemned by Teresa, see Gerald Brenan, St. John of the Cross, Cambridge University Press, 1973, pp. 16-18. ~°lbid. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 353 made certain that the sisters received adequate food and rest. Teresa could be as detached and objective about her spiritual favors as if they had been granted to someone else. Writing in the third person in the ' Spiritual Relations, Teresa begins by saying "It is forty years since this nun took the habit . ,,4~ Turning to the subject of her "supernatural visita-tions," as she calls them, Teresa writes in a matter-of-fact way: She never saw anything with her bodily eyes, as has been said, but always in such a sul~tle, intellectual way that at first she would sometimes think she had imagined it, though at other times she could not think so. Nor did she even hear anything with her bodily ears, except on two occasions, and on these occasions she could make nothing of what was said and did not know what it was all about.42 Without mentioning Pelagianism, Teresa nonetheless reveals a knowl-edge of that heresy and rejects it as an explanation of her rare experiences: The soul collects wood and does all it can by itself, but finds no way of kindling the fire of the love of God. It is only by his great mercy that the smoke can be seen, which shows that the fire is not altogether dead. ]'hen the Lord comes back and kindles it, for the soul is driving itself crazy with blowing on the fire and rearing the fire more and more. I believe the best thing is for the soul to be completely resigned to the fact that of itself it can do nothing, and busy itself, as I have already suggested, in other meritorious activities, for the Lord may perhaps be depriving it of the power to pray, precisely so that it may engage in these other activities and learn by experience how little it can do of itself.4'~ Regarding the imagination,Teresa argues that it can only recombine what the mind has already experienced, and that it is prey not only to the devil but also to emotions such as melancholy. To affirm or deny anything on the basis of the imagination is invariably to be misled. Teresa concludes that because her visions do not consist of mental images, her imagination or fancy is not the source of her spiritual experiences. Although the devil can give pleasures and delights which might seem spiritual, they are inevitably disruptive of the soul's quiet. The devil might present himself to the imagination in the likeness of Christ, but the mere fact that the devil is making use of the imagination proves that he is bent on deceiving. In a true vision of Christ, he is surrounded in glory; but glory cannot possibly be counterfeited by the imagination because it is a kind of intellectually perceived aura. ~2onsequently, the most that the devil can counterfeit is the flesh.4~ But since God will never give the devil the power to feign his glory--for this would involve the impossible, i.e., divine abdication--the devil can deceive no one when he assumes the likeness of Christ, unless one is willing to be deceived. Teresa calls the devil "a skillful painter.''~'~ But just as a very wicked man might paint a beautiful painting, and one that has good effects, so, too, the devil might conjure up a beautiful image from which one might profit. 411bid., IIl, p. 319. 4~lbid., I, pp. 324-25. "~albid., pp. 264-65. 441bid., pp. 182-83. 451bid., 111, p. 41. 354 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 "We should never allow the identity of the painter to hinder our devo-tion." 46 Similarly, a vision is not good or evil in itself, but in its effects upon the person who has it. Humility~ is essential to drawing profit from a vision: if the vision is of God, but the person who receives it lacks humility, then the vision is wasted; if the vision is from the devil, and the person lacks humility, he will be misled and become even more swollen with pride. Again, although the devil can give delight, he can never conjoin extreme physical or mental pain with tranquillity and joy in the soul. Both the pains and the pleasures caused by the devil necessarily bring restlessness and discord. "Secondly, this delectable tempest comes from another region than those over which he has authority.''47 And thirdly, pain and suffering in which the soul takes delight make one all the more determined to serve God and renounce the ephemeral pleasures of this world. True visions have a clarity and distinctness which prove that they could not be produced either by anything corporeal, or by one's own imagination, or by the devil. If one has any doubts whether or not one has experienced .a true vision, then one can be sure that the vision was spurious. When Teresa had her first mystical experiences, she did not doubt whether they were genuine, but she greatly doubted and feared what other people would say. A genuine vision comes when it is least expected. The content .is no more and no less than what appears to the person having the vision. One of Teresa's confessors tried to force her to fill out the description of Christ, in view of her claim that she had seen him. Teresa replied that when she tried to see the color of his eyes or how tall he was, the vision vanished. One can always be asked to add to a description of something in the phenomenal world; but if a certain quality is not given in a vision--e.g., the Color of Christ's eyes, then the assumption that the quality was in the vision but unobserved is a categorical mistake. The final criterion of a genuine vision is the great peace and tranquillity ¯ produced by it, coupled with a strengthening of one's moral fiber.4s Physical concomitants are also frequent: the soul faints away in a manner which one cannot resist. But these physical repercussions are of relatively minor significance. It seems as if my life is about to end, and this makes me cry aloud and call upon God: this comes upon me with great vehemence. Sometimes it makes me so restless that I cannot remain seated and this trouble attacks me without my havir~g done anything to bring it on . For Ifrom my yearnings] there can be no relief; the only relief for them is the vision of God, which comes through death,, and this 1 cannot obtaih of Him.4~ Much of'what has already been said concerning the differences between authentic and spurious visions also applies to locutions. A few points, 461bid. "~rlbid., II, p. 278. 48lbid., 1, pp. 262-63; il, pp. 296-97. 46lbid., !, p. 306. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience however, should be emphasized. Although clear and distinct, the words of a locution are not heard with the bodily ear; they are more strongly im-pressed upon the understanding than if they were so heard. When one does not want to hear something, one can close one's ears or attend to something else; "But~when God talks in this way to the soul, there is no such remedy: I have to listen, whether I like it or no . -5o The locution is the unique object of one's attention, canceling out all else. Teresa is well aware that persons sometimes "talk" to themselves and deceive themselves into believing it to be some higher, spiritual force communicating with them. But no matter how subtle the locution might be., when the understanding has made up the words itself, one must know that the mind is active, rather than passive and receptive, as it is in genuine, locutions. Spurious locutions always lack the clarity and distinctness of those from God; moreover, one always has the power to divert one's attention from self-spoken locutions. Lastly; counterfeit Io~:utions are empty vocables, effecting nothing. Gen-uine locutions, even if they are of reproof, prepare and move the soul towards greater love, and "give it light and make it happy and tranquil."5~ Sometimes locutions are so lengthy, even though they come in a flash, that one knows that it would have (aken a long time to make them up oneself. ' Teresa argues that one would have to court deception in order to be deceived about~ the true provenance of a locution.5~ Of course one may pretend to having heard a locution, and lie about its contents, but, then, one may lieabout .anything. Divine locutions "instruct us at once, without any lapse of time, 'and by their means we can understand things which it would probably take us a month to makeup ourselves.''5'~ Demonic locutions have only bad effects, and leave one ina state of aridity and. anguish. Teresa is emphatic on the point that no privately heard locution can be contrary to the publicly enunciated doctrine of the Church. If any locution is at variance with Holy Scripture or the teachings of the Church, it must be. from the devil or from one's own self-conceit.54 There emerge, then, three types of locutions: (1) those which are heard by the corporeal sense of hearing; (2) those which are received by the imagination alone but which give the impression of having been heard by the sense of hearing; and (3) those from God, which involve neither sound nor'voice, and which leave an indubitable, fecund, unforgettable and clear concept in: the depths of the spirit. Teresa recommends that anyone who seriously believes he hears locutions of the first two types should be treated like a sick person. He should be advised to pay no heed to the matter: "One: should humor such people so as not 'to distress them further. If one tells 5°Ibid., p. 157. 5llbid., p. 158. 521bid., p. 159. ~lbid., pp. 159-60. 541bid., p. 161. 3*$6 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 them they are suffer.ing from melancholy, there will be no end to it. They will simply swear they see and hear things, and really believe that they do."55 Teresa casts the same clinical eye on nuns who fall into swoons and call them raptures. Such women are of a physically debilitated nature and given to melancholy. Their swoons may last for hours, but nothing productive comes from them. Although swoons and ecstasies may seem alike in some aspects, they are profoundly different. Ecstasy or rapture, which involves the union of all the faculties, is wont to last a very short time. The.soul is enlightened and spiritual effects are produced.56 Rapture is the sign of spiritual betrothal, carrying the soul out of its senses. Sometimes rapture is brought about by God's having compassion on someone who is not actually praying, but "is struck by some word, which it either remembers or hears spoken by God.' ,57 The faculties, as well as the senses, cease to function; nonetheless, God reveals his majesty to the soul. "When the soul is in this state of suspension and the Lord sees fit to reveal to it certain mysteries, such as heavenly things and imaginary visions, it is able subsequently to describe these . ,,~8 But if the visions in the rapture are intellectual, they cannot be described in any earthly terms.5a Yet in the same breath Teresa says: "although after regaining possession of their senses they can often describe many of these intellectual visions.' ,60 Teresa is immediately aware that she is contradicting herself. She tries to get out of the difficulty by saying that Jacob was in a rapture when he had the imaginary vision of the ladder, but he undoubtedly understood greater mysteries and had an intellectual vision which he could only describe in part.61 Similarly, Moses, in his rapture before the burning bush, could describe some of what he saw, but not all; yet Moses must have been impressed with great and ineffable secrets, otherwise he could never have done what he did for the people of Israel.6'-' After an elaborate comparison between seeing the private apartment of a great lord for a few minutes, and God suddenly revealing the vastness of his secrets to the ~oul in ecstasy, Teresa grows impatient with herself and asks, "Is this tantamount to an admission on my part that lthe soul] has really seen something and that this is an imaginary vision?''6~ She wants to be speaking of intellectual visions, and we have already observed how suspicious she is of the imagination. Teresa gets angry with herself: ". I have no learning and am too stupid to explain anything . -64 She characteristically changes the subject, gives a prayer and a few admonitions,.then returns to one of the central themes of,the Interior Castle: the nature of rapture. She describes some of the physical signs: The hands and body grow cold,.breathing ceases, the senses 551bid., II, pp. 279-80. "°lbid. 5nlbid., llI, pp. 27-28. ~lSee Gn 28,12. ~rlbid. "2See Ex 3,2. ~81bid., I1, p. 288. ~Op. cir., 11, p. 289. 5albid. ~41bid., p. 290. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience no longer function. The ecstasy lasts for only a short period of time, then the bodily functions gradually resume while the "profound suspension liftS a little.''~5 For days thereafter, the person might wander about in a stupor, uninterested in anything that does not awaken the faculty of the will to love. The ultimate result of such an ecstasy is good: to work harder for the glory of God. But when Teresa returns to the philosophic problem of describing the nature of rapture, she writes: "To give a full idea of it . . . is impos-sible.""~ Teresa describes another sort of rapture which, though substantially the same as the one described above, causes the soul to become conscious of an exceedingly rapid motion, while the spirit is transported with great speed. Resistance is impossible, even though the person remains in com-plete possession of his senses. To resist only makes the transport more perturbing. One feels as though one is in another world, where the light is. brighter and of a different kind than the brightest sunlight. "In a single instant he is taught so many things all at once that, if he were to labor for years on end in trying to fit them all into his imagination and thought, he could not succeed with a thousandth part of them.''~r When the soul returns from this high transport, "to live on earth is a great affliction to it . That the rapture was caused by God's agency is proved by three effects: (1) a greater consciousness of the greatness of God; (2) a more deeply felt humility and sense of unworthiness; and (3) a supreme contempt for earthly things. Conversely, one might add, if the rapture were caused by a satanic agency, the effects would be greater contumacy, overweening pride and heightened greed. In rapture the body "remains as if dead and unable of itself to do anything: it continues all the time as it was when the rapture came upon it, "in a sitting position, for example, or with the hands open or shut.''69 One rarely loses consciousness altogether. One can still hear and understand, but only dimly: When the faculties are lost through being united to God, and the soul is transformed, one reaches the peak of the rapture. When the soul is thus in union, neither visions nor locutions can occur, because the facul-ties are wholly lost.r° In the Spiritual Relations Teresa gives a long descrip-tion of union, from which I quote a part: I understand that the spirit in union is pure and lifted up above everything earthly, and that there is nothing remaining in it that will depart from the will of God, but that the spirit and the will are in conformity with his will, and detached from everything, and occupied in God so as to leave no recollection of love of self or of any created thing,r~ II1 How did Teresa's contemporaries react to her descriptions of these rare ~51bid., p. 291. ~lbid., p. 292. ~91bid., I, p. 125. 671bid., p. 295. 7°lbid., p. 158. S8lbid., p. 296. 7~lbid., p. 348. 358 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 ¯ phenomena? I shall restrict myself to one contemporary, P. Pedro Ibanez, who commanded Teresa to write her Life. A Dominican, Ibanez was easily the most articulate and perceptive of Teresa's first commentators. In a statement written between 1562 and 1564, Ibanez explains that those who believed Teresa to be suffering from deception had excellent reasons for believing so.7z He gives five such reasons: 1. Good judgment requires that we judge in light of what normally happens; and normally, people who have claimed to be the recipients of locutions and revelations were deceived, lbanez sees fit to add: "These deceptions come principally to women, and very seldom tO men."r'~ 2. In trying to ascertain the truth in any matter, we must take the judgments of the experts as definitive, e.g,, we must consult theologians in questions of theology and captains in matters of war~ The saints have always taught that very few revelations can be accepted as ,genuine. Some saints have gone so far as to repudiate all private revelations, arguing that their faith is sufficiently strong without them. When so many visions and apparitions occur to one nun, the legitimacy of all or most ot~ them is highly improbable. 3. If Teresa~s visions were gen-uine, then they must be counted as miracles; but miracles are performed "in cases of great necessity,''74 and in order to confirm the Faith. Neither of these grounds for miracles applies to an enclosed nun. 4. Saints who have been granted supernatural favors always strive to conceal them, both out of the belief that God would deprive them of the favors if they made them public, and as a sign of humility. Teresa made her "favors" only too well known: she described them to a great number of confessors and lay per-sons, and wrote about them in all of her works. 5. The devil is the cleverest of all deceivers because he mixes so much truth with his falsehoods. It is most likely that Teresa's experiences were the work of the devil. Although Ibanez concedes that these reasons have great weight, he ~.nonetheless counters that some things considered by themselves seem bad, but "if some circumstances be taken into account, seem quite holy and virtuous.''r5 His example is the familiar one from Plato: taking someone's property is wrong, but if it is added that the thing was taken from its owner in order to prevent him from killing himself or someone else, then it is right. Ibanez's defense of the genuineness of Teresa's visions rests ultimately upon the following premise: We have also to consider that there has never been a time in the world when there have hot,been certain persons with whom our Lord has been on very familiar terms and to whom His Majesty has expounded and revealed many secret things which he has determined to do . In some ages there will be more of these than in others, but there will always be some, and as a rule they will be men given to prayer, contempla-tion and quiet~r6 721bid., 111, pp. 313-333. r~ibid., p. 317. ralbid., p. 316¯ r61bid., p. 318. ralbid. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 359 Invoking God's providential care of his Church, and alluding to the threats of the Lutherans, Ibanez claims a historical necessity for'the exis-tence of certain intermediaries between the world and the supernatural. Moreover, the fact that a person lives "in great Christian perfection" is a very relevant argument in favor of the genuineness of certain revelations. Even though complete ce~'tainty concerning the genuineness of revela-tions is impossible, there are "some ways and means which are very sure.''7~ In general, the tree i~ known by its fruit,just as physicians diagnose a disease by its effects. Given that revelations and visions must be either true and good or false and bad, a true vision must partake of the qualities of God,. and a false vision must show" signs of the wiles and subtleties used by the devil.''7s Ibanez gives eleven rules for distinguishing true from false visions: 1. Visions from God must produce a sense of humility and unworthiness; thosefrom the devil bring pride and a sense of self-importance. 2. Visions from God drive the recipient to shun the world 9,nd turn away from material things; those from the devil have the opposite effect. 3. Visions from God come only to those who are systematically give.n to prayer and who mani-fest a genuine love of God; the devil's chief aim is to entice one away from prayer and to suborn one's love of God. 4. Perso_ns who receive visions. from God invariably seek counsel from learned persons, holding nothing back from their confessors; persons receiving visions from the devil be-come furtive and self-opinionated. 5. Because scholastic theology is not sufficient to pronounce on the genuineness of mystical experiences, some- " one who believes that he is the recipient of such experiences must consult confessors who have personal experience of such things and who lead lives .~of great sanctity. 6. It is all the more likely that a person's visions are from God if he has patiently suffered all sorts of undeserved annoyances and tribulations. "Our Lord is not likely to reward our patience by sending us a delusion from the devil.''r9 7. If all of a person's confessors are convinced of his purity of conscience, then it is all the more likely that the revelations are of divine origin. 8. An empirical test is to ascertain how much help and spiritual profit people obtain from familiar converse with s.~ch a person. 9. The content of divine visions should be in complete conf6rmity with the Scriptures; demonic visions are replete with irrelevances, curiosities and thingsof little edification. 10. If none of a person's confessors detects any trace of vanity, then it is all the more certain that ~the experiences are genuine. Lastly, 11. The devil persecutes and torments the good, and ap-pears to them in a hideous form; but to persons whom the deyil has won over, his appearances are pleasant, and he cajoles and flatters them. Ibanez proceeds to apply each of these rules to Teresa. On the basis of 7rlbid., p. 319. 781bid. rSlbid., p. 324. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 considerable documentary evidence, he proves that her experiences clearly pass each test. IV This is a difficult paper to conclude. One could of course change the entire mode and tenor of Teresa's experiences and delve into her medical history. As inte?esting as it might be to try to diagnose her early cataleptic seizures, her neurasthenia, and all the bodily, aches and ailments that she complained of throughout her life, I do not see how the content of her experiences can be reduced to physical causes. Of course one could attempt a psychoanalytic study of Teresa, examin-ing her very strong attachment to her father, her ambivalent friendships, her great attraction to Ft. Jeronimo, her self-flagellation and so on. But if one begins with the assumption that mystical experience is nothing but psy-chiatric disorder, Teresa's proper place is on the doctor's couch and not in the gloria so remarkably ~imbodied by Bernini. Again, one could fit Teresa's experiences into the long history of mys-ticism, drawing from Plotinus, Proclus, Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite, and many others. One could try to show how Teresa unconsciously drew on ancient Jewish, Sufistic or Hindu sources. All this would be fascinating to those who are interested in such things. Lastly, one is free to adopt William James' largely dismissive attitude expressed in The Varieties of Religiotts Experience: . confess that my only feeling in reading [Teresa] has been pity that so much vitality of soul should have found such poor employment.''~° James finds Teresa's reli-gious ideal "paltry. ,,81 But if the ideals expressed in the Interior Castle are paltry; I should lik~ to know which ideals may be called "high." It ig the conclusion of this article, however, that, in order to understand St. Teresa's descriptions of her experiences, one must construe them sym-bolically or analogically. When St. Thomas Aquinas addresses himself to the problem of speaking about God, given that no two beings are as unlike as the Creator and the created, he argues that language about God must be understood analogical-ly. In De Veritate, for example, St. Thomas reasons that there are only ¯ three ways in which one may predicate any term of a given subject: univ-ocally, equivocally, or analogously,sz He argues: "We must assert that we may not predicate anything univocally of the creature and God, for in univocal predication the intelligible nature that the name signifies is com-mon to each thing among those of which that name is predicated univocal-ly . Now,.no creature, regardless of how much it imitates God, can ever reach the point of having anything in common with God . We cannot say, 8°The Modern Library: New York, p. 339. 8~lbid. 8ZDe Ver., q. 2, a. 11. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 36"1 on the other hand, that whatever is predicated of God and creature is predicated purely equivocally, since, if no real likeness of creature to God existed, his essence would not be the likeness of creatures, and then he would not know creatures through knowing his own essence . "s'~ The conclusion, then, is that predication in reference to God can only be made analogously. In other words, if all language about God were equivocal, absolutely nothing could be said about God. The mystic's talk would necessarily be idle and utterly uninformative. His visions would have no substance or value. Yet mystics, as well as other religious people, feel driven to speak and to write about God. And they believe that their language has meaning. This language has to be interpreted, not literally, but analogously,s4 It is chiefly because readers, whether from their scepticism or their enthusiasm, mistakenly interpret St. Teresa's writings in either a univocal or an equiv-ocal fashion that this great saint's message to humanity is often misunder-stood and falsified. a31bid. a4See also ST, I, q. 13. Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Principles of Asceticism Richard J. Hauser, S.J, Father Hauser is an associate professor in the department of theology at Creighton University, and is currently its chairman. He resides in the Jesuit Community of Creighton; 2500 Cali-fornia St.; Omaha, NE 68178. There is probably no area in spirituality more difficult to discuss than asceticism. For many of us the term relates primarily to Lenten practices of mortification. Most of us were relieved when the legislation was altered, and we abandoned fast and abstinence with little sense of loss. I believe there are two major reasons why we did not miss these practices. Increas-ingly the practice of mortification was not functional in our spiritual lives. Spiritual concerns were moving beyond the traditional spheres of prayer and asceticism and focusing more directly on service to others in the world. The relationship between mortification and service was not clear. Secondly, we were becoming uncomfortable with the assumptions un-derlying these practices regarding the body. The body was frequently seen only as a source of sin and so primarily a barrier to spiritual growth. It had to be repressed to be kept submissive. This assumption was incompatible with a general cultural awareness of the importance of the whole person, including the body and its feelings, for leading a happy life. These practices were also incompatible with the growing emphasis in Christian circles on the dignity of the total perso~n flowing from the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. This article attempts to spell out some general guidelines for a meaning-ful asceticism today, and then to present some practical principles of ascet-icism. In doing this it hopes to respond to the church's admonition .to all Christians to find a personally meaningful rhythm of asceticism to replace the strict system that had previously been legislated for all. 362 Principles of Asceticism / 363 Functional: Asceticism The first demand of a valid contemporary asceticism is that it be func-tional, that it foster the goals of Christian living. We are called to b~ like Christ. The Gospels present Jesus as totally dedicated to doing the Father's will in union with the Spirit. Imitating Christ, we, too, are called to do always the Father's will, and to do this with the power we have received from the Spirit of Jesus. We know from the theology of grace that :the Holy Spirit is our sanctifier and that we can make no movement toward God unless we are drawn to him by the Spirit. So if asceticism is to be functional it must promote living in tune with the Spirit. We will understand asceticism, then, as our efforts, prompted by the Spirit, to live and act always in union with the Spirit of Christ in order to know and do our Father's will. The practical challenge of a contemporary asceticism will be to establish regular rhythms in daily life that enable us to live in union with the Spirit. The general goal of all asceticism is to provide the conditions in daily life th~.t facilitate living in tune with the Spirit. But this goal must be brought down t0~ the level of the individual. Each Christian must ask the question: What is God's will for me? .How is God calling me to serve his people and his kingdom? This question is central, for no two of us have exactly the sam6 vocation from our Father. And the question must be asked on two levels. First, what is the state in life and particular occupation God is calling me to? And second, how is he leading me on a day-to-day basis to fulfill my particular calling? For example, in my own person, ! believe the Lord has called me to serve him as a Jesuit priest, and, within this state of life, to teach college theology. In addition I believe the Lord is leading me each day to mak~e decisions within this vocation that will be for his greater glory and service. To know and to respond continually and energetically to the Lord's calling demands that I live in touch with his Spirit. My personal ascetical challenge is to put patterns into my life that enable me to do this in a daily schedule that is already crowded with classes, counseling, meetings, study and research. My challenge will obviously be quite different from that of a housewife or a businessman. But the goal for all of us is the same: to know and to do our Father's will. And it is reached in the same way: by living in tune with the Spirit of Jesus. ~ We have been stressing the fact that ascetical°practices must be func-tional, related to doing the Father's will. But it is crucial to emphasize that asceticism is not concerned simply with developing life patterns aimed at the conscientious external performance of our various callings. The real challenge of asceticism is to develop life-rhythms that :facilitate an internal quality of heart that reflects the presence of the Holy Spirit during the performance of our duties. Paul gives us very concrete signs by which we .can recognize this presence: ". love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness, and self-control" (Ga 5,22). Meeting :364 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 this challenge is the most difficult aspect of asceticism. Most of us find it much easier simply to get our jobs done and not worry about our internal quality of heart--we all know the empty feeling of getting through a day and doing everything we were supposed to, but realizing at the end of the day that there was very little Iove,-joy,. or peace. Though we have ostensibly done God's will, we have not served the Lord well because we have not lived in tune with his Spirit. The difficulty of this challenge ought not be underestimated. There exist immense obstacles to its attainment both within and outside ourselves, and it is hard to say which are the more foreboding. We are aware of our own internal dividedness, our habitual tendency to serve ourselves only, rather than the Lord and others. And just as Paul gives us a list of the qualities of heart indicating the Spirit's presence; he also gives a list indicating the Spirit's absence: ". feuds and wrangling, jealousy, bad temper and quarrels; disagreements, factions, envy." (Ga 5, 20).And we also know .how regularly this internal dividedness is reinforced by our external situa-tion. We are continually moved away from a peaceful and loving service by the pressures of a busy schedule and anxieties from our work and personal problems. So from the very beginning the Christian who is concerned with totally loving and serving the Lord must acknowledge that the" task is impossible by personal effort alone. It is possible only by the Spirit's presence and power. Let me put it like this: if you are guided by the Spirit you will be in no danger of yielding to self-indulgence, since self-indulgence is the opposite of the Spirit, the Spirit is totally against such a thing, and it is precisely because the two are so opposed that you do not always carry out your good intentions. (Ga 5,16-17). And there is peace in the realization that his grace will always be sufficient. We need only build rhythms into our life that enable us to live in contact with it. Respect for the Total Person I believe that a major reason traditional approaches to asceticism lost their hold on us was that they were not clearly related to living the Christian life. Ifasceticism is to regain its deserved place in Christian living, it must be functional: it must clearly facilitate greater love and service of the Lord and others. But I believe that there is a second major reason, why the traditional approach to asceticism lost its hold. I believe that the Christian community became increasingly uncomfortable with one of its major-- though not always articulated--assumptions, namely that the body is pri-marily a barrier to spiritual growth and needs to be repressed to be kept submissive. It was indicative of our attitude toward the body that we felt comfortable in attributing to it rather than to the whole person so much evil in the self. We are clearly not. denying the internal dividedness of the self, the tension between the Spirit in us and our lower human nature---ourself Principles of Asceticism / 365 outside the Spirit. Any approach to asceticism that underplays this fact of Revelation is obviously distorted. But we are insisting that the body, too, is good because it is part of the person that has been transformed by the grace of Christ. The conclusion for asceticism is that the body is not only a barrier to the Spirit needing to be repressed, but it is equally an aid to the Spirit and must be respected and treated as such. This view of the person is reinforced by current theological works on the nature of the self. Theologians today continually speak of the threefold dimension of the person: body, mind, and spirit. They stress that all our acts are combinations of the three dimensions; they are simultaneously phys-ical, psychological and spiritual. One dimension inevitably influences the other two. The conclusion for spirituality is that the way we use our bodies and minds will either help or harm our life in the Spirit. And so we must respect all'principles of good physical and psychological health. I believe these insights have crucial import for asceticism today, import not ade-quately acknowledged in our previous approaches to asceticism. The chal-lenge of a contemporary asceticism will be to develop rhythms for the use of the body and the mind that respect their positive and vital role in the service of the whole person. Perhaps a note should be added on the importance of the psychological dimension for spiritual growth. It goes without saying that if body, mind and spirit are interconnected, psychological health and maturity are crucial for spiritual growth. The challenge of ascetical practices in this area is to develoP rhythms in daily living that respect valid psychological principles of growth. It is clear how intimately related are psychological and spiritual growth. For instance, a generally accepted touchstone for psychological maturity is the ability to be in touch with our inner selves and to make decisions flowing from our own insights without being unduly influenced by outside pressures. This principle of psychological health is central for the Christian. Our goal is to know and do the Father's will. To do this we must be guided by the Spirit. And' t6 be guided by the Spirit we must be in touch with our inner selves, for it is on this very deep level that God can influence and direct us. This means we must develop daily rhythms that enable us to live in tune with our inner selves. Fr~)m the perspective of mental health and maturity psychologists can only concur. The Christian seeks always to know and do the Father's will in love. We cannot do this by ourselves; we can do this only with the Spirit. We seek then to develop rhythms in our daily life forthe use of our bodies and minds that keep them under the influence of the Spirit: "Since the Spirit is our life, let us be directed by the Spirit" (Ga 5, 25). Thomas Merton's expression is perfect. The "spiritual life'" is then the perfectly balanced life in which the body with its passions and instincts, the mind with its reasoning and its obedience to principle, and the spirit with its passive illuminationoby the Light and Love of God form one ~i66 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 complete man who is in God and with God and from God and for God. One man in whom God is all in all. One man in whom God carries out his own will without obstacle. New Seeds of Conternplation (New York: New Directions, 1961), p. 140. ~ractical Principles: the Body What are these rhythms that foster our being directed by the Spirit? The most obvious place to begin is with the body--body is theterm we are using for ~he physical dimension of our existence. The basic question in this area is: What rhythms are necessary in daily living to keep the body responsive to the direction of the Spirit in energetically doing the will of the Father? There are two major principles: first, we must do whatever is necessary and possible to keep in good physical health, and second, we must do whatever is necessary to keep our sensual desires responsive to the Spirit and not to our lower human nature, that is, the part of our being that has not yet been transformed by the Spirit of Christ. The first we will ~:all the positive principle for the use of the body; the second, the negative principle. For me the first is

Issue 38.5 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RE~.~(;~OUS (ISSN (~)34-639X). published bi-monthly (every two months), 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. © 1979 By REVIEW FOR RE~.~;~OUS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. Missouri. Single copies: $2.0(I. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year: $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year. $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REv,~-:w VOR RE~.~;~OtJS: 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, 1979 Volume 38 Number 5 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to R~:v~v:w r'on Rv:~Ac,~oos; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues ahd articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Detachment in the Ascent of( Mount Carmel'. an Appreciation Judson Mather Dr. Mather, father of a large family and active in Catholic life Jn campus, is Associate Professor in the Department of Humanities of Michigan State Universitty. His address: 547 Charles St.; East Lansing, M148823. [ Whatever its actual content and overt interest, W.H. Auden said, every poem is rooted in imaginative awe. This is a dictum, worth keeping in mind in approaching St. John of the Cross. For John of the Cross was a contempla-tive, a poet, and a mystical theologian--in that order. His poetry flowed from his lived experience as a man of prayer and was the most immediate ex-pression of that experience. The Ascent of Mo~unt Carmel and the other works of mystical theology which he wrote are all c~ast as commentaries on his poetry. The books, of course, reveal other sides ~f his remarkable gifts: his sharp, systematic mind, for instance, and the exte~nt to which he was steeped in the Scriptures. But behind this always stands tt .~ imaginative awe commu-nicated in the poetry. The whole of the Ascent, adeed' is the exposition of one brief stanza: In the midst of a dark night, Yearnihg, and with love alight -- Ah, sheer fortune's fill! -- 1 went out hidden from all si ;ht, At last my dwelling being still. ¯ Author's translation. Prose passages quoted in the following pages are the E. Allison Pee~ translation: St. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel (Garden City, N.Y.: Image Books, 1958). 641 649 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 Book One of the Ascent surveys this stanza as a whole; Books Two and Three concentrate in great detail on the "dark night" spoken of in the first line. He expounds the dark night of faith, which entails a. darkening of knowledge; the dark night of hope, which is accompanied byan obscuring 6f the memory; and the dark night of love which brings with it the dark night of the will. The poetic touchstone of the Ascent is important because throughout the book John is using the central metaphore of his poem -- a dark night-- as the symbol of his central theme: detachment. If we lose sight of the imagina-tive link here, we are also apt to miss his central insight that detachment is the gift of grace -- "sheer fortune" -- and not an accomplishment. The problem is not that the theme of detachment is obscured or buried in the text of the book. On the contrary, John seems to go at the dark night of detachment with a thoroughness, a grim relish, that could strike us as being masochistic. We find him, for example, telling us to "strive always to prefer" the most difficult rather than the easiest, the most unpleasant rather than the delectable, the wearisome rather than the restful, the worst of temporal things rather than the best. "Let the soul strive to work in its own despite, and desire all to do so" (Iil 3/6.,9). No one would urge that detachment is an easy matter. But wh~t is missing from passages such as these (and there are quite a few) is the sense of imagi-native awe communicated in the poetry. Where this sense of awe is lacking, there seems to be a suggestion that detachment is some kind of self-improve-ment project. This can hardly be the case. Self-preoccupation certainly was "~/ not something John wanted to instill in his re'~-~-d~:s; least ~-f-~]"would he re(-'. ommend the warped and twisted spiritual pride of masochism. Quite the con-trary, the whole issue he addresses in treating detachment is the issue of how God goes about cracking the hard shell of our egotism, so that the light of Christ can shine within. Much of therproblem I suspect, is the gulf between the culture in which we live and the culture within which -- and for which -- John wrote. John's way of discussing detachment was imbued with the rough-and-tumble individual-ism of six~teenth-century Spain. It was the world of the conquistadores and Don Qui, xote (who may have been mad but was not cowardly). It was what the anthropologists call a "courage culture," where one's very sense of being someone was apt to be tied up with his demonstrated bravery. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, for example, was a soldier in the days before his conversion. His leg was smashed by a cannonball. He had it broken and reset- twice, without anesthetic- so that he could once again cut a good figure in the hose stockings that gentlemen of the day wore. Nor did John of the Cross himself lead a sheltered life. There was a great struggle going on between the Caiced and the Reformed Carmelites; John had left the Calced Carmelites and joined the Reformed. Twice he was kidnapped by the Calceds. The second time he was imprisoned in a six-by-ten-foot windowless Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel / 64:3 room; three times a week he was taken out-and beaten in the refectory for his stubborn refusal to renounce his Reformed vows. Only after a year and a half or so of :this treatment was he able to escape and return to the Reformed order~ Because John was writing in and for this kind of world, it is not surprising that he said tough-minded things in a tough-minded way. But detachment, not."assertiveness training," was his concern. We need not get bogged down in the individualistic, courage-culture way he talked about detachment. There are other traditions of detachment in the Church we can turn to for guidance in these matters. The much older Rule of St. Benedict, for example, treats the root and fruit of discipline as social rather than individual. That is, the touch-stone of detachment is not a matter of preferring the worst or the best or something in between. It is .living in a kindly and generous way with those rub shoulders with all the time. This may be less spectacular than preferringrr the worst, but it's not necessarily less demanding. The "dark night" of which John speaks begins with what we would prob-ably call a "difficulty in mental prayer." The difficulty emerges as a sense of deprivation. Prayer dries up. One loses, as it were, the capacity to think and pray at the same time. With this loss comes a loss of relish for prayer, the loss of a capacity to enjoy it, One seems to be losing hold of what he has most deeply desired. With this, not surprisingly, there also comes a sense of losing the way. One doesn't know where he's going. '.'~Progress" seems to have come up against a brick wail. Beneath all this, there's a loss of the sense of who God is -- and more directly who Godis in relation to one's self. Is faith itself evaporating away? This experience is probably fairly widespread, and can and does lead to giving up the whole business -- faith, prayer and the rest of it -- as a bad job. We can come to think of it all as a delusion -- and indeed there may well be a sense of relief that comes of thinking of it in this way. But the relief is bitter-sweet. Even Sartre, the atheist-existentialist, says that the world without God is a forlorn world, John goes beyond a perception of forlornness. He points out that what makes this darknes~ so paradoxical and so painful is that the dark night d6scends at the same time as one is "yearning, and with love alight." The sense of the loss of God's presence is accompanied by a deep longing for God. If this paradoxical and painful state is endured, John says, something happens. He calls it "sheer fortune." Now sheer fortune isn't something we do. It's something that "happens," unexpectedly. Such a happening, I want to stress, is not what we would normally call an experience. It only becomes an experience in retrospect--where we can look back on it and say, "Yes. That happened." What happens is described by. John in the second half of the stanza. "I went out hidden from all sight / At last my dwelling being still." In the midst 644 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 of obscurity and darkness, paradox and pain, while we were not observing it--indeed precisely because we were not observing it m we were drawn forth from ourselve.s_:__T_~e_.gi~ft of self-forgetfulness was somehow bestowed on the °lS~'~tered ego. ~,n"n'-d--~we ~-~ r--~-o-~, ~-l~rely, that this was indeed "sheer fortune." It was what down deep we really wanted all along anyway, while we were looking elsewhere for some other kind of answer. This, I believe, is the context for John's strong emphasis on detachment in Book One. Rightly used, detachment is a way of coming to grips with reali-ty- of getting our desires into order with reality instead of with illusion. Such an ordering is important to the contemplative prayer John describes be-cause the reality we are facing here is the reality of darkness. What we need is not a change of scene or the return of old feelings. We need the grace of en-durance. And that, of course, is what God is providing. John puts the point in a powerful metaphor: the Israelites, he says, "failed to find in the manna all the sweetness and strength they could wish, not because it was not con-tained in the manna, but because they desired some other thing" 0/5/4). There's a whole commentary of life in this sentence. It's easy to become so preoccupied with what God is not providing that we neglect to notice what he is providing. This is not to say that the grace of endurance will be experienced as some-thing noble and admirable. It's more likely to be a matter of stumbling on, we know not how. We wonder if we really should have meant to offer our-selves to God, and if he isn't asking of us more than we are able to give. This shouldn't be surprising. Our sense of an inability to cope on our own strength is an education in humility -- which is a good part of what we are up to in the first place. Of course, we'd prefer some other sort of education. We'd rather learn humility without humiliation. But that's not usually the way in which reality works. The point here also can be put in a more positive way. Detachment is important to contemplative prayer because contemplative prayer is a being called forth by reality-- the Reality, God himself. It's an adventure with all the danger as well as all the challenge that adventure implies. Because God is the Reality, he is so vast and awesome, so intimate and penetrating, that there is little if anything in our previous experience that corresponds to what has come upon us. So the expectation of the unknown, the surprising, the fright-ening conforms to the reality of the situation in which we find ourselves. Detachment is crucial to dealing with this because in the darkness we must continually be sorting things out. We need to sort the things that matter more from the things that matter less as we go along this unknown way. There are two further points to make about contemplative detachment. First, contemplative detachment is not passivity. It's an active wanting of what God wants in the particular, concrete circumstances in which we stand. It means not sitting back, but responding, to the particular moment, with all its opportunities and all its limitations. Second, contemplative detachment is Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel / 645 not a cold, independent, isolated thing. Rather it's a matter of freely giving up as a part of freely giving. It is a willingness to take the risk of being shat-tered, of abiding in a shattered state--and of abiding with others in their shattered state as well. There is no other contemplative way. The shattered state is where the "sheer fortune of going out hidden from all sight" occurs. As we move from Book One to Book Two, it becomes apparent that de-tachment is central in contemplative prayer, and not just a preparation for it. That is, we don't let go of material things in order to grasp and possess spirit-ual things. The crux of contemplative prayer is a deep spiritual detachment. There is a reason for this. If the term, "spiritual growth" means any-thing, it means a growth "into Christ" m a being called forth into deeper union with him. And here the Christ of the Gospel confronts us with the uni-ty of his teaching and his deeds. When he said, "he who would save his life will lose it, and he who will lose his life for my sake will find it," he was giv-ing a commentary on what he himself was in the midst of doing in relation to his Father. He did not do o]ae thing so that we could do something else. He did one thing so we could do the same thing. He did not say "Take up your cross and go your own way," but "Take up your cross and follow me." The theological pivot of Book Two of the Ascent is Chapter Seven. Here John turns to a central paradox and mystery of the faith: Christ's utter deso-lation at the transformative moment of redemption on the Cro~s. There, out of annihilation, flows fullness of life. This is to say (among other things) that the wellspring of faith in Christ is the faith of Christ: his utter faith in his Father's goodness and triumphant strength. The issue here is not just theory, but practice as well. The story of the Garden oi' Eden--whatever else it means- is a story about the practical doubt of huhaankind in God's complete and trustworthy goodness. The story is universal because this doubt has had practical ramifications throughout history and throughout each one's life. It is universal, but not final. The Good News of Christ addresses the practical doubt of Eden. It proclaims that in Christ doubt is mended by its re~,ersal: Christ's practical trust in his Father's goodness to and beyond the point of death itself. As we are drawn toward union with Christ, we come to the faith that darkens our knowledge and supplants our reason. There grows on us a deep sense of the inadequacy and inoperativeness of our knowledge when it comes face to face with these issues which matter most of all. The theological sense of the~Unity of desolation and fruitfulness in Christ's saving work is no longer just an object of our knowledge. It overshadows us and lays hold of us direct-ly. John describes this transformative darkening in terms of the nearness of God -- it is like, he says, the nearness of fire to a burning log. A more human analogy of nearness may be more to the point for us. Humanly speaking, the full richness of faith is not so much belief in certain facts as a matter of loyal- 6415 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 ty and trust directed toward a person. Now, up to a certain point we can say why we trust a person. But the explanation of that trust is not the substance of it. The substance of it is the trust itself. Indeed, there is a kind of propor-tionality operating here. The more we need reasons, the less there is of trust; the more the trust, the more peripheral and inadequate the reasons seem. As trust grows, we find it bec.oming more mysterious.--going (as John would say) to what we know not by a way we know not. We can~su.spect that com-plete trust would have no need of reasons: it simply is. In prayer, the supplanting of reason and knowledge by the dark night of faith explains why meditation dries up. This is as it should be." Meditation is an exercise of the imagination, and as John says, "although a man imagines palaces of pearls and mountains of gold, because he has seen gold and pearls, all this is in truth less than~ the essence of a little gold or a single pearl" (II/12/4). The greatest imaginary thing is less than the least of the real. And what is being offered in the prayer of the dark night is a touch of the real. To try to hang onto the imaginary under such circumstances is to thwart the working of reality. It is desiring some other thing. This is important, because whfit is experienced in contemplative prayer -- certainly at first and probably for a long time--is more the loss than the gain. John speaks of the "prayer of loving attention." But this does not mean that we're likely to feel loving and attentive. Rather it's a matter of somehow trusting God's love and attentiveness. Much of John's exposition in Book Two is directed toward showing why it's right that this should be so. Here as so often, he goes directly to the root of the matter. He points out that theologically there is a finality about God's word when the Word himself became flesh and dwelt among us. Christ's life and teaching, as remembered and recorded by the faithful community, is full, c6mplete, and adequate. We need nothing more. Thus any qtlest for or reliance upon special signs or revelation or experience in prayer is wrong. Such prayer.-.experience either confirms what is already there -- in which case it is basically superfluous -- or else it is different from what is already there. In that case it is positively misleading. And in either case it reveals a certhin lack of faith -- a doubt that the full glory of God has already been revealed in Christ. Indeed, Jol{n sa3is that even if special experience in prayer were a good thing, it~is less of a good .thing than the pure dark night of faith. For it's only in this night that faith is maintained, noui'ished and increased. So we come upon one of the central paradoxes of contemplative prayer. It can genuinely seem--feel--lower and lesser. It canseem like a waste of timg, nothing at all. This is so because'its substance is simply that of a~tively willing whatever it is that God wants. This is a choice, and a choice that has to be continually remade. But it is not a matter of looking for or asking for something special for our own unique case: it is an intent toward trust. It is wanting to pra} without setting qualifications or conditions on what we ex-pect God to do with our offering of prayer. Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel / 64Z In the Third Book of the Ascent,~ John moves on to discuss the dark nights of hope and love. For it is, John says, not just our knowledge but our memory and will as well that are overshadowed in the dark night of contem-plation. Here again, as in the dark night of faith, John's exposition aims at show-ing why this seeming loss is in fact the onset of a new and deeper freedom. That darkness attends hope is built into the very nature of hope itself. For hope, by definition, is for what we do not possess. The more specific hope is, the narrower its boundaries. The "purer" hope is, the less qualified and structured it is -- the more completely open to God. And the more complete the hope, the greater the darkness and mystery. Memoi'y provides the images by which we structure and limit experience. As we go by a way we know not to a place we know not, memory becomes in-creasingly useless as a guide and judge. For we more clearly recognize memo-ry for what it is: our distorted images and pictures, not the reality we seek. And yet we do not know, in having to let go of the help memory once brought, whether we are letting' go of everything J of our very self, ,It's an emptying even more searching than the dark night of faith. Yet such darkness is the right way. If God is in the process of making all things new- of t'ransforming us- we don't want to set boundaries to his activity. Qur business is to "let go." Of course, this is not to say that we can will such letting go and make it happen. Even if that were possible, it would just be possessiveness operatin~ on a deeper and more subtle level. The gift we await can only arrive on the o~her side of the memories we control and possess: arrive as a happy chance. The dark night of love J and its accompanying night of the will -- is the mo~t searching and awesome darkness of ~ill. It is also the most crucial. For without this final darkness and detachment, all that has gone before goes for fiau~ht. This is so because the° love of God is what the whole human enterprise of living and praying is about in the first place. And the ultimate calling of God's love is to a letting go of all the barriers we have to receiving and giving. It is arriving at a point where w.e have nothing to protect from God's own searching and limitless openness t6 giving and r~ceiving. Tl~e experience of this, however, is far more apt to be like falling com-pletely through the bottom--into complete loss, into nothingness. John links the dark night of the will with {he prayer of Gethsemahe which stands at the heart of the Lord's prayer: "Thy will, not mine, be~done.'' There is no other way. Practically speaking, wanting to love God most of all is a matter of wanting to w~int what God wants most of all, whatever that is. The cost is real. John puts his finger on this when he characterizes the dark night of the will as a le'ttin~g go of joy--joy remembered, joy experi-enced, joy hoped for. Darkness indeed, f6r how can we experience the letting go qfjoy as something other than the letting go of love itself? But it's not the letting go of love; "it's the letting go of control. Falling 648 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 through the bottom can be a fall into an unsuspected world of freedom, a new recognition of a capacity for joy. William Blake epitomized it in "Eternity:" He who bends to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy. But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sunrise. We come to recognize that possession is not God's business. We can talk, I suppose, about being "possessed by the devil." But we aren't possessed by God; we're loved by him, with all the freedom and mutuality that love im-plies. Our freedom lies in the recognition that he will enable us to respond in kind. In the dark night of love the need to possess and hang on have somehow been swallowed up. As John says, we can begin to enjoy things and persons and God "according to their truth," and not just according to their meaning and worth for us (III/20/2-3). When the need to control goes, the real joy of freedom arrives. All this may help to indicate why John makes detachment the central focus of the beginning stages of contemplative prayer. It also may indicate that the word "beginning" covers a good deal of ground. As both Dom John Chapman and Thomas Merton remark, in the spiritual life we're lucky if the beginnings last only twenty years or so. Indeed, there's a way in which the contemplative life is always a matter of new beginnings. Such alife (as one of the Zen masters says) is an invitation and quest to discover more fully the gift of a "beginner's mind"--a mind that is open and compassionate, with many possibilities rather than a few. Thus although the Ascent is the introductory work in the body of John's mystical writings, it deals with substantive spirituality, not with approaches or fringes. The Ascent is elementary in the sense of being basic rather than in the sense of being a prologue to be gotten through quickly. Nor is ~he Ascent just a technical handbook on prayer. Starting from the rather narrow base of a "difficulty in mental prayer," John suggests a broad-er panorama. He paints a picture of a way of living, of coping with reality, that is both distinctive and profound. From the standpoint of a biblical theology, his emphasis is like that of the Fourth Gospel rather than like that of St. Paul and the synoptic gospels. That is, he understands the moments of humiliation and glorification as primarily simultaneous, not primarily sequential. The Cross is, to him, the way of life, not just the way to life. This theological point has a practical bearing Qn both one's personal out-look and one's pastoral perspective. How are we to understand the trouble and the darkness that we and others pass through? Is it mainly a punishment or a testing? Or is it basically a calling into deeper union with the whole range Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel /649 of the human condition, and a calling into the whole realm of human and divine caring that the human condition invites? John of the Cross furnishes the theological and spiritual basis for this lat-ter understanding of the burdensomeness of life: for seeing it as an invitation to deeper union, more caring. This is not (it should be said) a popular out-look, for it runs counter to some deep cultural trends in our society--the cult of self-awareness, self-expression, self-fulfillment, and all the other cults of narcissism. Against all such cults John sets the possibility of a better way: a hard but simple happening, rooted in God's generosity and our imaginative awe: In the midst of a dark night, Yearning, and with love alight -- Ah, sheer fortune's fill! -- I went out hidden from all sight, At last my dwelling being still. Now dies the sun under the cross-- I pity, Mary, thy fair face. And thy tears as downward they trace. Now dies the sun under the cross-- I pity, Mary, thy son and thy loss. Denver Sasser Morrill Hall 205 Oklahoma State University Stillwater, OK 74074 (A translation-adaptation of an anonymous English lyric of the 13th Century.) Mission and Commitment A ngelo M. Caligiuri Father Caligiuri is Vicar for Religious in the Diocese of Buffalo. His last article in these pages, entitled "Spirituality and Ordinary Human Experience," appeared in the issue of May, 1978. He may be addressed at the Office of the Vicar for Religious; 100 S. Elmwood Ave.; Buffalo, NY 14202. One of the faith-categories which post conciliar writings have opened up for us in an enlivening and challenging way is that of mission. Since the Council, theological and spiritual writings have unpacked more of the mean-ing of this word and have brought us to a deeper level of understanding, an understanding of mission as a defining characteristic of what it means to be Christian. In this radical sense, mission refers to an essential dimension of the way of life of anyone who has heard the good news and in faith responds to the Lord's invitation to share his life and further his kingdom (see, for example, John Paul II, RedemptorHominis, 9, 10, II, 12, 18, 19; Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 6, 13, 59, 60). While mission can be spoken of in rather general and broad terms, any consideration of the full phenomenon of mission will necessarily involve one in a consideration of three persons: the one who sends; the one who is sent; and the one to whom he is sent. To put it in more direct language, we could say that mission means: someone saying. to someone "Go to someone." 650 Mission and Commitment / 65"1 The Mission of Jesus As Jesus was aware of his being sent by the Father to make his message of love known to the world, so does he send his disciples into the world to con-tinue his mission of revealing the Father's love (see, e.g. John 17). Or in more direct language we might say that: as the Father said to Jesus "Go to my people." and tell them of my love for them and of the love that they should have for one another, so does Jesus say io his followers (the church) "Go to my people (the world)." and tell them of my Father's love for them and of'the love they should have for one another. This mission which Jesus received from his Father, he transmitted to the c~ommunity of believers drawn together by his Sp!ri~, i.e. to the Church, We who are the Church, then insofar as we are church, i.e. insofar as God's Spirit leads us to accept Jesus as Lord and Savior and as the revelation of the Father's love, share in the very mission of Jesus. himself. For it is to his Church, i.e. to those who believe in him, that hesays, go to the world and tell it of my Father's love and of the love humans should have for one another. Ecclesial Dimension of Mission To speak of mission, there, within tile Christian community, at whatever level, is also necessarily to spea~k of the Father, Son, Spirit, and Church. Hence the authentication of one's particular mission as Christian, that is, as continuous with the mission of the Son, will be rooted within the Church. Or, to say this in other words, there is an essential ecclesial dimension to all Christian mission. Mission as an Interpersohal R~ality In what was perhal~s.the last document signed by ~he late Pope Paul VI, a document entitled "Directives for the Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Religious in the Church,'_' we read the following. The mission of the people of God is one. In a certain sense it constitutes the heart of the entire ecclesial mystery . thus the Church, throughout her history, 'is by her very nature missionary' (LG, no. 17), in Christ and in virtue of the Spirit. All--pastors, -laymen, and religious, each according to his specific vocation--are called to be apostolically committed. This commitment arises from the love of the Father; the Holy Spirit, then nourishes it, "giving life to ecclesiastical structures, being as it were their soul, and inspiring in the hearts of the faithful the same spirit of mission which impelled Christ himself" (lAG 4], n. 15). 652 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 And the very next paragraph continues: Mission, which begins with the Father, requires that those who are sent exercise their awareness of love in the dialogue of prayer. Therefore, in these times of apostolic re-newal, as always in every form of missionary engagement, a privileged place is given to the contemplation of God to meditation on his plan of salvation, and to reflection on the signs of the times in the light of the gospel, so that prayer may be nourished and grow in quality and frequency (n. 16). As is clearly indicated in these passages, there is a radical personal level which the reality of mission reaches, a level which is more fundamental even than its corporate expression. It is to this more fundamental level that I would like to move in these reflections. It is at this level that mission is a faith-value that finds its ultimate ground in a person's presence to God, for it is at this level that mission does or does not become an existential reality, that is, an energizing and enlivening influence in the life of each follower of Christ. It is here that mission becomes part of the motivational structure of each religious. When we move to this level, we encounter mission as an interpersonal reality. For ultimately, mission is grounded in the reality of our relationships, our relationship with .the person who sends us and with the person(s) to whom we are sent. The strength and depth of our sense of mission then will depend upon the strength and depth of our relationship to the one who sends us. In other words, mission is intimately related to commitment. Mission and Commitment At the level of etymology, this interrelationship is clear. Both "mission" and "commitment" are radically from the Latin word, mittere, "to send." But it is at the level of our personal lives, as individuals responding to the Father's invitation to share his life and further his kingdom, that the truly in-timate relationship between mission and commitment becomes clear. The depth of our commitment to mission will depend upon the depth of our com-mitment to the One who sends us. When we speak about commitment, we are speaking about a reality that seems to be, at one and the same time, most personal, yet one which we can speak about rather impersonally. The very word commitment conjures up in our minds a feeling of security, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, a word that seems to "say it all"; and yet it also brings with it an unknown element, that dimen-sion of the cemmitted life that is revealed to us only in the living out of our lives. Commitment as Experienced The reality of commitment is best understood in terms of our personal ex-perience of it, in the context of our living of it. Indeed commitment is, and has been, a real dimension of our religious lives for however long we have been in religion. Mission and Commitment/ 653 If we ask ourselves just how it has been, and is now, a dimension of our lives, our first response might be to refer to that public act that we celebrated before the Church at the time of our final profession, one, ten, fifty years ago. Upon reflection, though I feel sure that we would not want to imply that this public act of commitment totally encompassed for us the full reality behind the words we uttered. That act, made once and renewed formally peri-odically, was, and is, simply an external sign, an outward expression of a deeper reality taking place in our hearts, at the level of our person. Commitment, then, has to do fundamentally with our person, with our presence to ourselves, with our awareness of ourselves. If commitment is to be more than an external act, it must flow from the ability each of us has to give ourselves not only in external acts but at the level of our awareness of who we are and who we are becoming; an awareness that is ours most clearly during those graced moments when we are frighteningly present to ourselves as we are before God, in naked truth and honesty. Commitment, then, has everything to do with ourselves, with our growing understanding of ourselves, a growth that takes place every day of our lives till the day we die, if we let it. Life itself is characterized by growth and change. Although this is quite obviously true with regard to our physical life, it is just as true, although not as immediately evident, in our lives as persons, as spiritual beings. It is in and through our lived experiences, that we grow in our understand-ing and acceptance of ourselves, that we grow as persons, a growth that has to influence the reality of the commitment we have made. It is our very per-son that we commit, that we give, ourperson that is alive and growing. And as we continue to experience life, as we grow in our self-understanding, we cannot help but come to a greater appreciation of what commitment means in our personal lives. The word "commitment," which, to an extent, remains impersonal, likb a skeleton, takes on flesh, begins to become incarnate in our real lives. Commitment and Spiritual Growth Just as our continued growth as persons influences our understanding of our commitment, so also is the opposite true. Where there is no personal 'growth, where an individual 'stagnates in his growth as a person, so also does his commitment become l~ss and less personal and more and more abstract. When this happens, his commitment runs the risk of becoming a cold and static reality, something that he begins to refer to in order to justify his com-placency and indifference towards his growth, as a justification for his lack of response to the ever present challenges of life, and as a justification for isolating himself more and more from his community, from the world. Under the false security of having "once and for all" committed himself, he can retire more and more into his own little world, becoming less and less sen-sitive to the life of the Spirit in the world, in the Church and in his fellow re- 654 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 ligious. Instead of commitment calling him to a greater giving of himself in the real-life situations of todaY,, instead of it calling him to a greater sense of mission, it becomes a needed excuse for seeing things only in terms that he finds personally acceptable, so that he becomes narrow-minded, unable to tolerate others. And because commitment ~ has become depersonalized and divorced from life,, it becomes, for him, something that must be expressed in the same way by all. ~ Commitment then has everything to do with our growth as persons, a growth that results more from.oiar attitudinal stance, than from our chrono-logical age. As a result, commitment can.be a truly influential and motivating force in our lives only to the extent that we are continually open to the life-giving Spirit who breathes where he will, to the Spirit who calls us to. deepen our relationship with Christ in the light of our growing understanding of our-selves. Commitment and Mission: the Person Who Is Sent Mission then is rooted in relationships. And the full reality of mission, which essentially involves the person who is sent, the person who sends and the person to whom he is sent, can well be described in interpersonal', rela-tional terms. First of all there is the relationship of the person~who-is-sent to the person:who-sends. At this personal level mission arid commitment are very intimately related, so ~that the depth and validity of our sense of mission will necessarily be related to the depth of our relationship to the person who sends us. Or, in 6ther words, our sense of mission is intimately related to our sense of commitment, a reality which has everything to do with our continual growth as persons. Ultimately, our personal sense of mission will depend upon the depth of the commitment of our person to the person of Jesus Christ in our lives. Now if our sense of mission is intimately related to our personal commit-ment to the one who sends us, then a fuller understanding of mission must necessarily include a more complete consideration of the commitment rela-tionship itself. And what surfaces in such a consideration is that the commitment rela-tionship is essentially bipolar, that is, one that necessarily includes not~ only we who give ourselves and who are sent, but also the person to whom we give ourselves, the person who sends. Commitment and Mission: the Person Who Sends Most religious and priests, if asked to express just who or what it is that they have committed themselves to, would probably answer in one of the fol-lowing ways: "I committed myself to God.-- to Jesus; I committed myself to serve God's people, to a particular way of life or' to a specific apostolate." Now while all of these responses are meaningful in themselves and are legiti- Mission and Commitment / 655 mate values to which we can commit ourselves, not all of them have the abili-ty to call forth from us a radical level of commitment that proceeds from our very person. Not all warrant a response from us or challenge us at the level of our person. In fact, there are certain things we commit ourselves to that never in themselves require more than a functional response on our part. However, when we think about our religious commitment, we are think-ing about a reality that does reach us at the level of our person. We are con, sidering Something that r.eally influences us not primarily at the level of what we do, but rather at the level of who we are, and of the kind of person we are becoming. The only reality we can commit ourselves to in such a way that it will reach us as persons, is the reality of another person. To be sure, we can and do commit ourselves to do things, to perform certain actions and rituals, and to.provide certain services. But these activities can be out of harmony with our basic personal commitment and instead of being expressions of our basic personal commitment and being a means of incarnating that commit-ment moreand more in our living situations, these activities can become ends in themselves and as a matter of fact, they can introduce into our lives a real dichotomy between what we do and who we really are. When this kind of situation arises, we begin to absolutize our activities. When speaking about commitment, we find ourselves always speaking about commitment to certain apostolates and activities, a type of commitment which is only a second-level commitment, since these activities of themselves do not necessarily reach us at the level of our person. When commitment has become primarily this kind of second-level commitment to functions and ac-tivities, no matter how good they are in themselves, commitment becomes an impersonal and static reality that no longer challenges to growth and to life. Rather, it becomes a reality which is continually threatened by persons who do things differently, or who do different things. Then, in the name of com-mitment, we can find ourselves becoming rather defensiv.e, distrustful and suspicious, becoming ever. more' cl.osed in on ourselves, more isolated, and hence with an ,ever narrowing sense of mission. To be sure, because mission is an e,ssential part of the call to follow Christ, Christian and religious commitment must o~bvigusly lead to doing things and to activity. The point is. that when w~ totally identify our Christian or religious commitment.wi.th ceriain activities or apostolates, then that com-mitment can become a hindrance .to our true personal growth in Christ, it can become an obstacle in.the way of what the Lord's love wants to do in our lives at the level of our hearts. Commitment to the Person Who Sends: Jesus Christ Now, while it is possible that commitment to things or activities can get in the way of our continued personal growth in the Lord's life, a sense of com-mitment is primarily a very positive influence in our spiritual life. However, it is this only to the degree that our commitment is to the person of God as he 656 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 reveais himself to us in his Son Jesus Christ. It is to the extent that it is to Jesus and to his life-giving word that we give ourselves, only to this extent does our commitment become radically personal and continually challenging at the level of the persons we are becoming and can become. When we become more and more personally aware of the fact that our primary commitment as religious is to the person of Jesus Christ who makes his love for us felt in the people and situations of our lives, we also become less hesitant to respond to new situations creatively, then we become less hesi-tant to act upon new insights both in our personal and communal lives. We are able to carry out our mission in an effective and creative way. Since it is to the living Lord that we have given ourselves and who missions us, it is to be expected that he will inspire us and continually lead us to new understandings of ourselves and of our deepening relationship with him, and both of these will of necessity have to find expression in the apostolic activities of our life. If we really believe that it is the Lord who is giving us this new under-standing, then we will have little hesitation oi" fear in allowing that new understanding to lead us to new activities, to new ways of doing things. The mere newness of these ways and activities will in no way cause us to feel that we are being unfaithful to our past or that what we did in the past was wrong or less than our best effort. The Lord normally calls us to grow in his life gradually, and it is only in the context of past experience and action that cer-tain new insights into the Lord's ways become possible. "Only if the seed die, will it bring forth new life." And only if we are free enough to let go of what we are, can we become what the Lord wants us to become. The more personally aware we become of the fact that our primary com-mitment is to the person of Jesus Christ, the less will we identify our religious selves with just activities and functions, the less will our sense of mission be limited to specific activities which must necessarily reflect the historical moment and culture in which they developed. Real life situations will always be changing, whether We like it or not. Unless we want to remove ourselves from life and begin to live in our own lit-tle world, a world that is real only in our own lives, we must as the Council has reminded us so strongly, continually read the signs of the times. However, although the situations in which we carry out our missions are going to be ever new, there is also a constant dimension in them. That con-stant dimension is our personal commitment to the person of Christ. Although we can't do much about most of our life situations, we can do quite a bit about the depth and sincerity of our commitment. And this is the kind of thing we do in prayer and in celebrating our faith life with those who share and experience the same love of God in their lives. As we grow in our awareness of the fact that our religious life is identified with this personal commitment to Christ and not with particular apostolates, practices and activities, then we can begin to allow our commitment to lead us to actions and attitudes that will make our Christian values just a little Mission and Commitment / 657 more incarnate in our changing life situations. Our commitment will give rise to and deepen our sense of mission. As we free ourselves from the slavery of our prejudices and preconceived ideas, we will be able to see more and more clearly what it is that the Lord wants us to do. We will begin to see that he really means it when he says that the heart of his message is love of God and love of neighbor. We will begin to appreciate that he really wants his fol-lowers to become one, to grow in true communion with others, and our sense of mission will become deepened and directed. Commitment, then, grounds our mission, and the depth of our personal commitment to the person of Christ, who sends us to tell all of the Father's love, will determine the depth of our sense of being sent and our willingness to be sent. Commitment and Mission: the Person(s) to Whom We Are Sent Having considered the person who is sent and the person who sends, in order to complete our reflection on the reality of mission, we must now turn to a consideration of the person or persons to whom we are sent. In a rather simplistic way, I would like to say that we are sent by Christ both to ourselves and to others. In saying this, I think that I have said an awful lot -- and have also left a lot unsaid. Sent to Ourselves In saying that we are sent to ourselves, I am not engaging in double-talk, nor stating a reality that is so obvious that it need not be mentioned. Rather what I am trying to describe is the fact that the good news of the Father's love which we are sent to communicate, is good news not only for others but also, and even primarily, for ourselves. Wecannot communicate the good news of the Father's love for all unless we have ourselves heard the good news and ac- .cepted it. As mentioned earlier, we are not sent in an impersonal way, after the fashion of mechanical instruments, but rather we are sent as the unique persons we are and are becoming. It is as persons loved into being by the Father and responding to that love in our own unrepeatable way, that we are sent to bring others the good news of the Father's love. And so before we bring the good news to others, we must hear and accept it ourselves. Through prayer and reflection we must constantly strive to be present to the promptings of God's life-giving Spirit as he tries to lead us ever more profoundly into union with the Father. The good news of the Father's love must continually confront us and challenge us to keep on dying to our old self, so that the new creature that the Lord would have us become might be born and mature. In a more traditional terminology we might say that we must be concerned about saving our own soul. The good news that we are sent to bring to others, then, is also, and first of all, good news for us personally. This is the sense in which we say that we are first of all sent to ourselves. 658 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 Sent to Others However, and perhaps more obviously, we are also sent to others. In Mt 28:18-20 we read: Jesus came forward and addressed them in these words: "Full authority has been given to me both in heaven and on earth; go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Teach them to carry out everything I have commanded you and know that I am with you always till the end of the world" (confer also Lk 24:46-48; and Ac 1:8). ~ Clearly then, because it is in and through Christ that we have come to know the Father's love and have accepted the Father's invitation to share his life in faith, we also share in the mission he gave Christ, to witness to his love before all men. Because of our personal commitment to the person of Christ, we also share in his mission to the world. The "How. of Our Mission An obvious and legitimate question can be raised at this point in our re-flections, as to just how we carry out our mission .to others. How do we wit-ness to others of the love of the Father for them, and of the call they have to love each other? Of course this is the question that ultimately each of us must answer for ourselves in the light of our own personal salvation history andin the light of the real time and place in history where we are responding to the promptings of God's Spirit in out lives. , Even as we.acknowledge this radically personal dimension of the answer to this question of "how," we can also make some more general observations about this "how:" ¯ The first is that, if we are going to be true to the mission of Christ and not be sidetracked at some other level, we must, inall the different concrete situa-tions which make up the context of our lives, strive to witness to the reality of God's love among us. I know that this sounds trite, and that we have said it already. But yet we must really allow these familiar words to become opera-tive in our own evaluating of our daily life situations. Success or failur~ in our services or activities must ultimately be judged not so much according to whether or not we succeeded in doing what we set out to do, but rather in whether or not in our attempt to be of service we witnessed to the presence of God's love among us. Secondly, our ability to witness to the Father's love in the situations of our daily life, be they classrooms, hospital rooms, courtrooms, community rooms or wherever, will be dependent upon our own growing acceptance of the Father's love in our lives. No one can give what he doesn't have. And unless we are, in our own personal lives, secure in the Father's love, confident of our life in him and present to ourselves as we continually grow into the person God's Spirit wants us to be, we will not be able to respond creatively Mission and Commitment / 659 to the situations of our daily life in which we are called to witness to the Father's love, and the mission of Christ will be circumscribed by our limited perspectives. I guess what I am trying to say here is that there are two dimensions to our personal liveL One is the dimension of ourselves which we can call the core of our being, the "within," the person that we are and are becoming through our intimate involvement with God's life-giving Spirit. This is our ongoing attempt to ~become ever more present to ourselves, ever more in touch with the profound mystery of God's creative love which sustains each of us in our unique being. But if there is a "within," there is also a "without." There is also a very public dimension to our person. In fact, our very being as persons is "to-be-with." This is one of the mysterious realities of the spiritual life. While at first glance the person who gives himself over to a contemplative life-style seems to be isolating himself from others, in reality the more he becomes present to the real core of his being, the more he encounters the overpowering love of God in himself and the more he is aware of and present to that same love of God in others. As he gets more in touch with the core of his being, he discovers that "to-be" is really "to-be-with." There is,,then, a public dimension to our personal existence, and, as a re-sult, as persons we are necessarily called to give public witness to God's love. But in this sense,, our public witness is not something apart from our personal acceptance of the Father's love. Rather it is a necessary concomitant of it, since as persons, we are necessarily social, we are necessarily with others. Although we usually think of ourselves as witnessing to God's love, as carrying out our mission in terms of others who are not part of our immedi-ate, everyday surroundings, since as persons, we are necessarily "with others," by the sincerity and authenticity of our own personal growth in the Lord, we witness first of all to. those who are closest to us, to our brothers and sisters with whom we live in community, to our family, to those who, all too often, we take for granted because we are so frequently physically present to each other. Besides this. public dimension of our personal witness, there is also a pub-lic witness to the Father's love which comes in a communal way. The Church itself, as the body of Christ in time and space, and all the various structures which in the course of the ages have arisen as a means to help us to grow in the Lord, give a communal witness to the Father's love at work among us. Mission and Religious Congregations It appears that it is precisely this area of public communal witness, the area of corporate witness, that is giving rise today to rather serious and searching reflections in many religious congregations as they consider their institutional apostolates and discern their future commitment to them. As communities have begun to rewrite their constitutions, many are reflecting 660 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 upon their experience with "self-placement," and other attempts to involve individuals in a discerning process regarding their mission to specific aposto-lates. In this process, they have become aware of the need to acknowledge and identify, as clearly as possible, the ecclesial and corporate dimensions of mission as significant factors to be consciously brought into such a discerning. process. Indeed, without such conscious inclusion, the wide variety of activities and apostolates in which a community or an individual may engage, while good and productive in themselves, may be "de-spirited," that is, not enliv-ened by the inspired dynamic at work in the Church's carrying out of its mis-sion from Jesus its Lord, To be sure, in our rapidly changing world, in which religious in a special way have been asked to read and respond to the signs of the times, it is not a simple matter to discern which apostolates are legitimate extensions and ex-pressions of Jesus's mission at a particular time in history. For while the traditional apostolates are still very valid, we also know that new needs are arising that call for creative reponses in order to carry out the mission of Jesus in the world of today and tomorrow. Historically, the Spirit has en-riched the Church with religious communities which have been able to trans-late the mission mandate of Christ into ministries and apostolates that responded to the reality of particular ages, be it by redeeming slaves, by teaching the children of Catholic immigrants in the context of a pluralistic so-ciety, by providing medical care in underdeveloped countries, or by lobbying for issues of social justice. However, precisely because such a discerning process, reflecting as it does one's ecclesiology and understanding of the vows (especially obedience), is necessarily not a simple matter, congregations must resist the temptation to expedite and simplify the process either by not providing clear and challeng-ing ecclesial and congregational input to a person's discerning process, or by not taking a person's discerning process seriously. Persons, on the other hand, must search out this congregational and ecclesial input, and allow it to be a very significant dimension in their own discerning process. The current efforts being made by religious congregations to deal with the implications of their ecclesial reality for their congregational sense of mis-sion, are most encouraging. As congregations continue to address this area with greater intensity, they will find some direction and encouragement from the above mentioned document, "Directives for the Mutual Relations Be-tween Bishops and Religious in the Church," jointly issued by the Sacred Congregation for Keligious and Secular Institutes and the Sacred Congrega-tion for Bishops (see Chapter I I I, 10-12 and especially Chapter IV, 15-23). The entire second part of this document presents some directives and norms that deal with the practical aspects of such mutual relations. To get a sense of how this document could contribute to a congregation's discerning process, it might be helpful to cite a few of the directives. Mission and Commitment / 661 38. Major superiors will take great care not only to have a knowledge of the talents and possibilities of their religious btit also of the apostolic needs of the dioceses where their institute is called to work. Wherefore it is desirable that a concrete and global dialog be carried on between the bishop and the superiors of the various institutes present in the diocese, so that, especially in view of certain precarious situations and the persistent vo-cational crisis, religious personnel can be more evenly and fruitfully distributed. 40 . Bishops, in dialog with religious superiors and with all who work in the pastoral sector of the diocese, should try to discern what the Spirit wills and should study ways to provide new apostolic presences, so as to be able to deal with the difficulties which have arisen within the diocese. The search, however, for this renewal must not in the least lead to a depreciation of the still actually valid forms of apostolate, which are properly traditional, such as that of the.school (see S. Congregation for Catholic Education, The Catholic School March 19, 1977), of the missions, of effective presence in hospitals, social services, etc. All of these traditional forms, moreover, must be, without delay, suitably updated according to the norms and guidelines of the Council and the needs of the times. 41. Apostolic innovations, which are later to be undertaken, should be planned with careful study. On the one hand, it is the duty of the bishops through their office not in-debd to extinguish the Spirit, but to test all things and hold fast to what is good (see l Th 5, 12 and 19-21; LG 12), in such a way however, "that the spontaneous zeal of those who engage in this work may be safeguarded and fostered" (.4G 30); religious superiors on their part, should cooperate actively and dialog with the bishops in seeking solutions, in arranging the programming of choices made, in launching experiments, even com-pletely new ones, always acting in view of the most urgent needs of the Church and in , conformity with the norms and directives Of the Magisterium and according to the nature of their institute. Together with such guidelines, congregations must themselves, through their own reflective processes, arrive at clarity and consistency regarding their own understanding and usage of those potentially confusing phrases that often surface when a congregation considers how "mission" finds expression in its corporate life. I am referring here to phrases like, "corporate mission," "corporate witness," "corporate ministry," "institutional commitment," all of which perhaps need to be "unpacked" and reflected upon in the light of the congregation's own understanding of its charism and ecclesial reality. The necessity of institutions for the carrying out of certain, apostolates is obvious. However, given the changes in the society to which we are missioned to proclaim and witness to the Father's love, it might be necessary at least to raise the question as to whether or not institutions as such have become ends in themselves, institutions, that is, whose continued existence is justified more and more from their own intrinsic merits and strengths than from their relationship to the furthering of the mission of Christ. Honest struggling with these questions should help congregations to clari-fy, identify, and own just which dimensions of their institutional apostolates do incarnate their public communal witness to the Father's love and, in doing so, give the congregation some significant input for whatever process they 662 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 engage in, in trying to digcern l~he missioning of the congregation's personnel and the expediture of its financial resources. However even at this level of concern for a congregation's public com-munal witness, I think it is important to remember that since the community consists simply of persons coming together in the Spirit to share with and live out their common faith-vision, the vitality of a congregation,s public com-munal witness will also necessarily reflect the quality of the personal witness of the members of the community. Conclusion The thrust of these reflections has been to surface the essential inter-personal and relational dimensions of the reality of mission. For it is this di-mension which to a great extent grounds the ability of mission to be a truly enlivening reality of our Christian living. Because the phenomenon of mis-sion involves three persons, the person who is sent, the person who sends and person to whom he is sent, one's sense of mission and willingness to be sent will be very much rooted in his relationship to the person who sends. In other words mission is very intimately related to commitment, so that the quality of our Christian mission will be dependent upon the quality of our commitment to the person of Je'stis Christ who shares his mission with us. As a result, when religious, both personally and communally, enter a pro-cess to discern where and how they should carry out the mission that Christ shares with them, their process of discernment must include a very real sensi-tivity to the input of the Church -- especially the local church -- where alone one's mission is actually carried out. And it is this ecclesial input that will help r~ligious avoid the subtle dangers of becoming more concerned with self-perpetuation than with proclaiming and witnessing to the kingdom. And, correspondingly, it is a serious responsibility of the Church -- especially the local church -- to create and foster those structures that will enable it to sur-face and articulate its pastoral needs in a realistic and credible way. But, even more fundamentally, before religio6s, either personally or com-munally, can engage in such a legitimate process of discernment, one that'is aimed at discerning the will of the Father, they must already be in a loving and living prayerful relationship 'with the Lord. They must have already com-mitted their very selves to the person of Jesus. As' followers of Christ, we are necessarily on mission. While for religious this mission does receive some definite specifications in the light of congrega-tional charisms, still, the full reality of their mission must ~lso, necessarily, flow from and reflect its ecclesial, Christic and Trinitarian roots. Which is to say that ultimately for religious, as for 'all Christians, the quality of our sense of mission and our willingness to be sent, are very inti-mately tied up with our personal relationship with and commitment to the person who sends us, the person of Jesus Christ. For, like the Trinity itself, our mission is'rooted ultimately in relationships. Three Questions for the Spiritual Journey Joel Gia//anza, C.S.C. Brother Giallanza has contributed to these pages previously. His article, "The Counsels of John of the Cross Revisted," appeared in our January, 1978 issue~ He continues to reside at Holy Cross Novitiate; Bennington, VT 05201. Asking a question implies searching for an answer; also it implies a desire for the knowledge and valfie inherent in the answer. As expressions of a commitment to the spiritual journey, questions can be effective channels for.discovering ways in which the Lord has been and is operative in each one's life. Most of the great mystics do not use questions as a structural basis for their writings. However; they do seem to be addressing a query that could be formulated thus: "What is your experience of God in your own life?" Within this experiential context, mystical writers offer the reader profound glimpses into their relationships with God. Admittedly this is not the only query that shapes the writings of these authors. Other, more specific, questions emerge as they articulate their understanding of the spiritual life. Questions pertaining to each one's own spiritual journey should be neither accidental nor random. Haphazard questioning can have a significant impact on the direction that one takes; it can result in one's losing sight of the journey's end--union with the Lord. Questions for the journey rather should facilitate choices which have to be made, should be a guide along the road, should offer the support and the challenge necessary to continue faithfully even when the road is dark. Where can such questions be found? The spiritual journey is a move- 663 664 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 ment toward union with the Lord. Our questions, then, should come from the Lord himself. He alone gives the gi'ace to discern choices, to find support along the road, and to bring light to the darkness. This reflection will focus on three questions which come from the Lord and which seem to be of special importance for the spiritual journey. Identifying the Lord The first question is itself posed in the context of a journey: specifically, Jesus and his disciples are entering the district of Caesarea Philippi. First Jesus asks his disciples who others believe him to be; then, after a variety of responses, he asks the disciples themselves: "But who do you say that I am?" (Mr 16:13-15 and parallels). The question is a crucial one, an identi-fying one; the response to it immediately identifies each one's faith in, and relationship with, Jesus of Nazareth. This identification is fundamental to the spiritual life. It specifies the end point toward which the spiritual journey tends. Above all, it is a statement of faith. Faith is a lived reality. Its core is made visible by the whole of one's life, through one's attitudes, decisions, commitments, relationships. Contem-porary Christians, just as the disciples, must also confront this question, in faith, for it is ever-present. "Who do you say that I am?" Clearly, it is present as one prays, either individually or in a worshiping community. It is present in everyday decisions and encounters, as well as in those which have an impact on one's life beyond a single day, week, month, or year. In short, it is present throughout the spiritual journey. All of life responds, in some way, to it. The movement of the text in which this question appears is from general ("who do others say. ?") to particular ("who do you say. ?"). The disciples, doubtless, had been influenced by what others were saying about Jesus; hence, their answers to the generalized question. The challenge of the more particular question, however, is to respond personally on the basis of their own experience. So too, for contemporary Christians, the influence of others has some bearing on the development of personal faith; eventu-ally, however, the question must be addressed on the. basis of one's own faith and experience. The spiritual life, as a personal relationship with God, must contain a response to Jesus on a personal level. Finally, the identification of '~who Jesus is" in and for one's life is inseparable from the Paschal Mystery. "From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised" (Mt 16:21 and parallels). To identify Jesus, in the words of Peter, as "the Christ, the Son of the Living God" is to accept the cross-and-resurrection. The Lordship of Jesus and his accomplishment of the Father's will by dying and rising are one. And so, the spiritual journey begins. One's vision of its end and of the road to be taken is focused sharply in each one's response to the question of Jesus: "But who do you say that I am?" Three Questions for the Spiritual Journey / 665 Acknowledging the Lord The first question, the identifying question, is not asked in a vacuum. It leads to, and is supported by, another question: "Do you know what I have done to you?" (Jn 13:12). The immediate scriptural context of this question" is the Last Supper, after Jesus had washed the disciples' feet. In this simple action, he gives them an example of how they are to serve others. For the spiritual journey, the response to this question is the acknowl-edgment and recognition of what the Lord has done in one's life; it is the recognition of specific graces that are given to each one throughout his life. This acknowledgment and recognition flow from, and support, what has gone before. To acknowledge the graces one has been given implies some identification of the Giver; to recognize those graces strengthens one's faith in Jesus as Lord. The gospel itself affirms this interdependence of the two questions; immediately after asking this second question, Jesus states: "You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am" (Jn 13: 13). Beyond its appearance in the context of the Last Supper, this question can refer to Jesus' entire life. In a sense, he is asking an all-pervasive question: "Do you know what I have done to you?" since you have been with me and I with you~uring all that has happened (will happen) to us since the beginning of my ministry? In this larger context the disciples must reflect on all that has taken place. They must begin to. see Jesus' life and ministry as a single incarnate expression of the Father's love. Jesus is the Exemplar (Jn 13:15), the one to whom.all Christian lives must point. This question, too, must be particularized. The Lord's actions surely have affected all people, but each in a unique way. The acknowledgment of that unique way in which the Lord has been operative in one's life shapes the response to this question. This is to know what the Lord has done. The second question appears very near the end of Jesus' life; thus, it, too, points to the cross-and-resurrection. The graces which one receives throughout life are intrinsically bound to the drama of Salvation History. Indeed, the gifts which the Lord bestows upon his people--individually and collectively~raw their power from his passion, death, and glorification. And so, the spiritual journey continues. Complete dependence on the Lord, by acknowledging his gifts, is highlighted in response to the simple, yet pervasive, question: "Do you I~now what 1 have done to you?" Seeking the Lord Jesus' first two questions are a type of prelude to his third. To identify Jesus in one's life, and to acknowledge his gifts, are the means of respond-ing to a final question: "Whom do you seek?" (Jn 18:4). This is asked by Jesus in the garden just prior to his arrest; his boldness stuns those who seek him, and so Jesus repeats himself. This question must remain a constant traveling companion on the spiri-tual journey. It must be answered again and again, at every fork in the road, as the spiritual life progresses. Its purpose, clearly, is to keep one's sight 666 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 fixed on the Lord alone. Thus, it is the raison d'etre for the entire spiritual ¯ journey. At any point .along the way, regardless of what one is doing, the manner in which his life is lived a.ctually proclaims his response to the 'question: "Whom do you seek?" That night, those who were seeking Jesus (to arrest him) were caught up in their movement as a crowd. It would have been~interesting to go through that crowd and ask each, indiviOually, whom he was seeking. Some may not have really known. Judas did, but he did not search alone. As odd as it may seem, a parallel can be drawn for the spiritual journey. Faith and gifts from the Lord can be. taken for granted, and so one can easily be caught up in merely doing what everyone else is doing. Then Jesus' question really has not been heard. Like the previous questions, this one ~must be particu-larized. To fix one's sight on the Lord alone clarifies the response; the alternatives are confusion and uncertainty. It is not to be inferred that confusion and uncertainty are never to be experienced in the spiritual life. Rather, the point here is that one's basic response is stable. From its context in the Gospel of John, it is obvious that this question leads to the cross-and-resurrection. To seek the Lord is to accept all that the Paschal Mystery e[atails. In a prophetic waY, Sirach emphasized this some two centuries before: My son, if you come forward to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for trials" (2: I). To seek the Lord leads to life, but it is a life that is born through death (Jn 12:24-25). And so the spiritual journey continues. At any moment and every moment, the Christian must know the road being traveled; constancy must be the hallmark of each one's response to the questibn: "Whom do you seek?" In Response Every Christian must respond in some way to these three questions of the spiritual journey. The ways in which each identifies, acknowledges, and seeks the Lord will be unique, based on personality, talents, experience, life-situation. Nevertheless, a common thread does run through all re-sponses. In the opening lines of his first letter, St. John makes a statement that addresses effectively all three questions. That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life--the life was mb.de manifest, and we saw it, and testify to it, and proclaim to you the eternal life which was with the Father and was made manifest to us--that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you. so that you may have fellowship with us;and our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son; Jesus Christ (1:1-3). Consider each question, and then read this text as a response. Jesus is identified as "the word of life"; he is acknowledged as the sour~:e of all that Three Questions for the Spiritual Journey / 667 has been received; and, he is the end toward which the proclamation points. Jesus is the common thread. It is beyond the scope of this brief reflection to explore this text in any depth; but one point in particular is worthy of note. Tactility and sensibility are emphatic elements of this text. The one about whom these things are written is known through experience: "heard," "seen," "looked upon," and "touched." These elements strengthen the testimony that is given. From his own experience, St. John proclaims "'the word of life," and invites others to "fellowship with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ." Responding to these questions throughout one's own spiritual journey must be the fruit of experience; it cannot be the result of academic gymnas-tics. These questions warrant a commitment, a fidelity to the spiritual journey. Only then does one's life--testimony, proclamation--identify Jesus as Lord, acknowledge his gifts, and seek him alone. Conclusion Three simple questions, Simple, yet interdependent. Simple, yet for the spiritual life they can be viewed as the most significant questions in the New Testament. To identify Jesus in one's life, to acknowledge what he has done and is doing, and to seek him above all else these constitute the spiritual journey. And, as always, the roads along which the journey pro-gresses are paved with the cross,and-resurrection. The spiritual journey requires onlyfidelity. That fidelity is incarnated through the Christian's lived response to the Lord's questions: "But who do you say that I am?" "Do y9u know what I have done to you?W .h.om do you seek?" Write a Gospel John Navone, S.J. Father Navone has written previously for REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. He continues to teach theology atthe Gregorian University; Piazza della Pilotta, 3; 00187 Roma, Italy. The Church employs the gospels as means for communicating and cultivat-ing its foundational experience of the love of God in Jesus Christ and in his Spirit given to us. A gospel is not an end in itself; it is meant to be used for fosteripg that gift of God's love which is the life of the Church. A gospel is written to serve the purpose of the grace and demand of God's transcendent love in Jesus Christ and his Church; it articulates and objectifies the meaning and value and demands of this love for us, both as individuals and as a com-munity. It symbolizes the call of a transcendent love empowering and sum-moning individuals to transcend themselves by accepting its grace and de-mand for life within the Christian community. Similarly, it symbolizes God's transcendent love summoning the Christian community to transcend itself in communicating its foundational experience to the world in iis distinctive ser-vice of the world. In a series of conferences given at the Gregorian University, in December 1978, Carlo Martini, S.J., sustained the working hypothesis that the four Gospels function as four manuals which correspond to the needs of four dis-tinct moments in the formation of the Christian. Adapting this hypothesis to the realm of God's self-investing love which the New Testament witness sym-bolizes, I suggest that Mark serves as the Christian community's manual for introducing the catechumen to the mystery of God's self-investing love in Jesus Christ. Matthew functions as the catechist's manual for helping the newly baptized to live according to the exigences of this self-investing love within the Church. Luke-Acts is the two-volume manual for learning how to bear witness to the meaning and value of this love for the world. John is Write a Gospel / 669 employed as .the manual for the grand synthesis of the mature Christian who has lived out the demands of this self-investing love in following Jesus and his (~hurch in the service of the world and now asks what is at the heart of his Christian experience. The self-investing dynamic of God's love is understood to be the origin and ground and destiny of the Jesus story, the Church story, and the world story. Not to have grasped this is to have missed the point of the dynamic which constitutes their ultimate meaning and value. Commu-nion with God implies a participation in the dynamic of his self-investing love on a level prior to that on which doctrinal systems and organized institutions arise. The Gospels symbolize the realm of God's unrestricted love to which humankind is constitutively oriented by presenting Jesus as God's self-revela-tion, or Word. They summon us to follow Jesus in his fundamental self-others- world-Mystery relationship for the authentic fulfillment of our humanity. The authenticity of our response to Jesus' injunction to love God above all else finds its measure in the deeds by which we follow his way to human authenticity through self-investing love for the neighbor. Writing a gospel is one way of learning to use a gospel for discovering the quality of our relationship to the transcendent love of God in Jesus Christ, in his Church, and in his world. Jesus symbolizes the meaning and value of this love, what it does and what it does not. The way we tell his story implies the way we comprehend the purpose of God's love in ourselves, others, and the world. The storyteller is in his storytelling. The gospel writer tells us about himself in telling us his story of Jesus. At the beginning of a course I teach on the spirituality of the gospels, I have had my students write a gospel in order to come to some experiential un-derstanding of what it means to be the author of a gospel. For an appropriate psychological state, they were to imagine that all the New Testaments throughout the world had been destroyed and that theirs would be the one and only written link with the original four gospels. They were to write their own synoptic gospel, using only the words of the four actual gospels. The ti-tle of the gospel would be "The Gospel According to (Student's Name)." Not more than two thousand words were allowed for telling the Good News. Each gospel was to have an architectonic unity, at least one parable, one mir~acle, one saying of Jesus. Between a fourth and a fifth of the gospel had to treat of the passion and death of Jesus. When the gospels had been written, they were exchanged. Each student wrote a commentary on the gospel that was given to him aimed at discerning (1) the portrait of Jesus and (2) the portrait of the author. What is the mean-ing and value of Jesus for the writer of this gospel? At what levels of con-sciousness does Jesus speak to the author? What does the author expect of Jesus? At ~what level of personal need does Jesus encounter the author? What is the author's particular interest in Jesus? What is his particular feeling toward Jesus? General questions for a critical reading of these gospels -- to help discern 670 / Review for R'eligious, Volume 38, 1979/5 the portrait of Jesus and of the author -- are the following, 1. Make a list of all the verbs which describe the agency of Jesus. What Jesus does in the gospel implies what he does for the author of the gospel. The author implies that Jesus will do this also for the reader of his gospel. 2. What does Jesus say in this gospel? This is what the author h~ears Jesu.s saying and, therefore, implicitly expects his reader to hear the same Jesus ad-dressing him with the same words. 3. Is the Risen Christ active in this .gospel? Does the gospel end with Jesus' resurrection from.the dead? ~ 4.How does the author see Jesus' basic self-others-world-God r~lationships? Is Jesus regarded as more solitary than social? As more receptive than active? As more suffering than joyful? As more among women than among men? As more among friends than among adversaries? As more a speaker than a doer? As more often rebuking than encouraging? As more often criticizing than approving? As more demanding than accepting? As more comprehen-sibly human than mysteriously divine? As more courageously confronting difficult situations than being welcomed by admiring followers? The original evangelists do not exclude one or the other of these elements in creating their balanced portrait of Jesus as both their crucified and risen Lord, illuminating the mystery which defines every human life. On the one hand, Jesus symbolizes the grace of God's love accepting persons wherever they are; on the other hand, he symbolizes the summons of that gracious love to transcend what we are in becoming sons of God. Some students wrote a gospel in which the third person prevails, creating the perspective of a detached spectator. Their avoidance of the second person suggests th~ absence of a personal relationship with the crucified and risen Jesus. It suggests that ~hey do not h~ar him speaking to them today. Luke's gospel, in contrast, underscores the ever-present grace and demand of God's love: "Today this scripture has been fulfilled even as you listen" (4:21); "To-day I must stay at your home" (19:5); "Today salvation has come to this house" (19:9); "Today you shall be with me in Paradise" (23:43). Luke's use of the second person, his use of such words as "today" and "now," implies that the transcendent realm of God's love, symbolized by the entire story of Jesus, is ever-present and summoning us. Its reality and goodness actually touch Luke's existence as an individual within the community of Christian faith, inspiring him to write a gospel about it for others. His gospel thema-tizes the immediacy of an understanding beyond words, his religious cgnver-sion, the love which he has received and accepted as the integrating center of his life. , The exercise of writing a gospel helps the writer to discover those areas of life that are most affected by the meaning and value of God's love in Jesus Christ. The writer should treasure whatever dimension of the Good News that especially moves or interests him. This is its special value for him. This is the particular sector of his consciousness where the mystery of God's love Write a Gospel / 671 finds itsl point of entry into his life; consequently, it must be cultivated with care so as to become frtlitful. Its fruitfulness will vary with the cultivation it receives. The radicalism of the New Testament message is an ideal towards which growth will always be slow and often uncertain. Inasmuch as our ac-tion must always be within the 'limits of possibility, a rigorism that would challenge us beyond our powers is counterproductive. Discouragement is the temptation of temptations. One person'~s effective freedom is limited to such a way that he cannot' achieve what many others find feasible. The focus of the gospel-summons is on the use, rather than measure, of our effective freedom. It challenges us to stretch the limits of our freedom, but not to the breaking-point. It manifests a readiness to meet us wherever we happen.to be and to lead us on from there. As William ~V. Dych notes: "What must I do to gain eternal life," Jesus is asked in the Gospel story. What I must do might be quite different from what somebody else,must do, and I am the one who has to discover it in the particular configuration of concrete circumstances which make up my life and existence. There is no antecedent blueprint~ in a book somewhere simply to be Copied or imitated. In fact, when "living by the book" makes me miss the very concrete realities rigl~t there before my eyes, then "the letter kills," as St. Paul says.' The most severe threats of the Gospel are for those who do not want to be led at all, those committed to the illusion of self-sufficiency: But alas for you who are rich: you are having your consolation now: Alas for you who have your fill now: you shall go hungry. Alas for you who laugh now: you shall mourn and weep. Alas for you when the world speaks well of you! This was the way their ancestors treated the false prophets (Lk 6:24-26). The gospels are rich in pedagogical resources for cultivating the gift of God's love at the 'many different levels where we had become conscious of its presence and summons. No situation of human life is too extreme to bein-cluded within the scope of its redemptive purpose. It implicitly invites every-one to write his own ,gospel within the effective limits of our freedom for responding to the gift of God's love in our basic :self-others-world-God rela-tionships. It invites us to witness to its reality and goodness. The exercise of writing a gospel, using only the words of the four evange-lists, has the advantage of not taxing the creative resources of individuals. The gospels provide a basic lingua franca which we may employ to describe our relationship to the mystery which defines our lives. The use of this lingua francarespects the privacy of the writer, who might not wish to publicize the events of his interior life; at the same time, it permits the individuality of the writer's perspective to emerge in the selection of material. The writer does not have to invent a religious language, or a set of religious symbols. The number of words is arbitrary; however, the fewer permitted, the more radical the 'William V. Dych, "The Logic of Faith,'" America 140 (March 19, 1979), p. 219. 672 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 selectivity and the clearer the manifestation of the writer's perspective. Students writing a gospel are generally unaware of how self-revealing their gospels are. The experience of becoming a synoptic writer of a gospel creates a context for a meaningful discussion of the process that brought the first four gospels into existence, and of the relation of this process to the reli-gious conversion which occurs in the immediacy of the subject's conscious-ness, in a supraconceptual, existential experience beyond words. Only when religiously transformed subjectivity begins to mediate itself through mean-ing, myth, narrative, stories of God and the like can religious community take rise. This mediation of conversion through the objectification of its meaning provides the context for the Church's use of the New Testament. Writing our own parables is an exercise related to that of becoming con-temporary synoptic gospel writers. In this exercise, however, students were not expected to use the texts of the New Testament. They were to compose a story, based on their own personal experience, to communicate one dimen-sion of their lived understanding of what it means to receive and share the gift of God's love. Creating our own parables is doing what Jesus did; in some respects, it can express a greater fidelity to the Gospel truth than the merely mechanical repetition of Jesus' parables. John Drury relates that the poet Edwin Muir in his autobiography saw his own life as a narrative on the two levels of individual difference and shared mystery, calling them story and fable.~ Story refers to a man's biography where fact is linked to fact: birth and parents, changes of address, marriage and jobs. It marks him off from other people. It is his alone. But the fable is always impinging on it. This is chain of images and archetypes which we do not entirely understand and which only become clear in dreams, visions and myths: the country of innocence, the fall, the journey and transfiguration. Thus story tells us that when the poet was a boy, the Muir family moved from a good farm on the Orkneys to a bad one, and then to Glasgow. But what is happening in the realm of fable is a fall from innocence into experience and alienation. It is in the realm of fable that we have our deepest connections with one another. In biography we are distinct. It must be to the fable that his Wife Willa refers when she says that "he never ceased to believe that his expe-rience resembled the experience of everyone else living on earth.''3 The quality of our experience ultimately determines the shape of our autobiographies, biographies, histories, novels, parables, stories of God, the-ologies. We express in these manifold ways what can be found within our conscious experience on successive, related, but qualitatively different levels: the empirical on which level we sense, perceive, imagine, feel, speak, move; the intellectual level on which we inquire, come to understand, express what we have understood, work out the implications and presuppositions of our 2John Drury, Angels and Dirt (London: Dhrton, Longman & Todd, i972) p. 50. Write a Gospel / 673 expressions; the rational level, on which we reflect, marshal the evidence, judge the truth or falsity, certainty or probability, of a statement; the respon-sible level on which we are concerned with ourselves, our own operations, our goals, and so ddiberate about possible courses of action, evaluate them, de-cide and carry out our decisions.' Our manifold ways of storytelling, of phi-losophizing and of theologizing, are indices of what is going on at the four levels of our consciousness and inten.tionality; they are objectifications of our conscious intending of the true and the real, of the good and the worthwhile, as unique individuals with a unique history. As such, they are objectifications which are not deduced from abstract laws about human nature in general; rather, they derive from the concrete life-stories of individuals in search of true meaning and value. The authenticity of our lives grounds the authentici-ty of the manifold ways in which we objectify our search. 'Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1972), p. 9. See also T. Patrick Burke, "The Theologian as Storyteller and Philosopher," Horizons 4/2 (1977), p. 207. Response to Psalm 137 How sing a song of the Lord in a foreign land? With muted voice probably, With tear-stained cheek most likely, With" breaking heart no doubt. But the Lord lives. So sing, then! Take your harp from the aspen tree! Sing not for your captors. Sing to the Lord who loves, Sing to the Lord who listens! Brother Franklin Cullen, C.S.C. Moreau High School 27170 Mission Blvd. Hayward, CA 94544 Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life Frederick J. Deters, S.J. Father Deters is an assistant professor of theology at Loyola University (Chicago). He resides in the Jesuit community there, 6525 North Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. Periodically there have appeared through Church history numerous men and women, individually and in groups, claiming to be filled with the Holy Spirit but all the while separating themselves from the unity of that Spirit as he was working in God's People. Most of us have heard of the Montan-ists, the Albigensians and the Joachimites--to cite only a few. Such knowledge of the past should dispose us to careful discernment when it comes' to accepting the inspirations oF yet others today who also claim to be Spirit-filled. But we must remember that spiritual discernment is not a form of natural cynicism. Those whom the Gospel calls to the shrewdness of serpents, are also summoned to the simplicity of doves and the openness of children. The point I am making here is that we can do without phony enthusiasm or false mysticism, but we cannot do without the Holy Spirit and his ,gifts. Vatican 1I was explicit in reaffirming the giftedness of all God's chil-dren. There, Catholic pastors were encouraged to see that the people were in fact led by the Spirit of God and that the charisms of each Christian be recognized and readily employed for the upbuilding of Christ's Body. Catholic life is charismatic life. In the true meaning of the words, the Catholic Church has been, and will continue to be. charismatic--or it will cease to be the Church of Christ on pilgrimage to the Father. Though in the past the various charisms have. in theologizing within Roman Catholicism, 674 Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 675 been.chiefly linked with both religious orders and ecclesial offices, there has never been lacking individual persons recognized for possessing the gifts of the Spirit. In such individuals, however, the genuineness of the gifts was ever attested by the loyalty and obedience with which they submitted to the guidance and direction of their communities and pastors. Given the: tension that must ever prevail between certain charisms and the exercise of, ecclesial offices, what, if anything, can theology point to as a touchstone for understanding their mutual harmony' and interaction? I am convinced that the answer to this question can be nothing or no one other than Jesus Christ, our One Lord and Mediator. In the following pages I propose a new look at both the Lordship and the mediatorial activity of Jesus Christ. As Jesus acts through the charismatic life of his people, he reveals the true character of his Lordship. At the same time, his authentic sovereignty manifests his mediation of life in charismatic activity. ~ What Does the Lordship o~ Jesus Mean? The emphasis that marks Catholic rehewal today is an ancient acclama-tion of faith: "Jesi~s is Lord!" This confession is chanted, sung and pro-claimed, not only by increasing numbers of men and women in the United States, but, ttiroughout th~ world. From early Christian times, it was the credal formula used in cofijunction with sacramental baptism. This practice was in evidence in the Roman Chur~:h. In his epistle tothe Romans, Paul writes: "For if you confess with y?ur lips that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your hearts that God raised~ him from the dead, you will be saved.''~ Baptism by im'mersion folloffed this professionl the descent into the water symbolizing death with Christ to a world of sin, the emergence from the pool manifesting a new walk with Christ in risen life. The washing both symbolized and celebrated the actual washing away of sin by the life-giving action of the Holy Spirit. God, the Blessed Trinity, was seen by faith to fill the" new Christian with his presence and life. Christian baptism was the authentic sign of°faith. Even so, the ,newly baptized and the com-munity gathered with him or her in celebration knew that this marked but the start ofc0mmunion with God's life. The ceremony brought with'it, a call tb live as Christ had lived, and, as the gra'ced opportunity was given, to die as he had died; to suffer death, that is, by witnessing to the hope of i:esur-rection. " ~ As the early Church lived and grew, Christians continued to know the power of ihi~ Lord's presence within them. In a true sense, there was no need for'anyone to tell these men'and women to "'know the Lord." They knew him and found a deep and salutary relationship with him in their lives. But they also knew one another through him just as they knew him through ~Ro 10:9. 676 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 one another by reason of his ongoing action in their midst. For Jesus continued to teach, direct, and sanctify through them. Their knowledge that God was interiorly within them as individuals was accompanied likewise by their awareness in faith that they were in Christ and that even the world of physical nature and material reality found its center in him. In fact, Jesus was known as Lord, not only of the visible elements of the Christian community, but of the external universe as well. He was Lord of all things, both visible and invisible. Paul voices this conviction when he speaks of the fullness of God in Christ: He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creatures. In him everything in'heaven and on earth was created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominations, principalities or powers; all were created through him, and for him. He is before all else that is. In him everything continues in being. It is he who is head of the body, the Church; he who is the beginning, the firstborn of the dead, so that primacy may be his in everything. It pleased God to make absolute fullness reside in him and by means of him, to reconcile everything in his person, both on earth and in the heavens, making peace through the blood of his cross.2 For Paul, the Lordship of Jesus is always related to Christ's humble obedience unto death. Just as the whole universe is depicted in the Epistle to the Romans as being in slavery to decadence due to sin, so the universe has, objectively speaking, been freed by Christ's death and is now in a process of renewal under his risen Lordship. But the Lordship of Jesus, whereby creation is renewed, represents a dominion won through Christ's suffering and death. This is also the theme of Philippians, Ch~apter 2, where Jesus' obedience unto death wins for him the title of Lord, the Name above every other name. Commenting on this latter passage, Robert Faricy writes: "In. his death Jesus descends into the heart of the world so that, in his resurrection, he can be the heart of the world, Lord in a true and even ontological sense, not simply appointed or named juridically, but Lord in such a way that to uproot him would be to make the world cease to exist.'''~ From this perspective Jesu~ has won his Lordship. He secured spiritual freedom from the dominion of the world of sin, death and the devil; not in the sense that he was personally held by these things; but, that vicariously he endured the Sufferings due to our sins in his own human nature in order that we might share his Lordship, his fieedom from them. So when the Christian, either of Paul~s time or our days says--"Jesus is Lord"--he professes the spiritual freedom of Christ in which his profession leads him to share. Since Jesus' Lordship is one that proclaims the reconciliatibn of every-thing, the Christian is called to a freedom that knows no base subjection to :Col 1:15-20. aFrank A. Sullivan, S.J., and Robert Faricy, S.J., lgnatian Exercises---Charismatic Renewal (Rome: Centrum lgnatianum Spirituatitatis, 1977). p. 36. Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 677 anything or anyone for their own sakes. The Christian is one who belongs to Christ himself: "All things are yours, but you are Christ's and Christ is God's!''4 So we all await that moment when at last Christ will hand over the kingdom to the Father and God will be all in all) The paradoxical converse of this, however, is that Christ's Lordship calls the Christian to spiritual freedom through the same kind of humble obedience that led Christ to surrender his very life into the Father's hands for our sake. It seems to be in this same spirit that Paul tells the Ephesians: "Defer to one another out of reverence for Christ.''6 And Peter's First Epistle calls upon Christians not only to be subject to church officials but to "every human institution" . . . "because of the Lord" for ~'such obedi-ence is the will of God." 7 Note that in all these cases subjection is rendered ¯ out of deference to Christ, who for the sake of our freedom took the form of a slave. As the Gospel account insists, Christ came not so much to be served, but to serve in the sense of giving his life as a ransom for many. To be authentic, our participation in Christ's Lordship will involve a share in his cross. Our service for each other will entail a daily crossbearing; it will ~ilso involve subjection, out of love for Christ the Lord. Jesus Provides Gifts for Service and Freedom Here we have come to the heart of Jesus' mediatorial activity for the Mystical Body. Insofar as we know the presence of Christ among us com-munally as well as within us individually, we long for the total celebration of that life in communal fellowship. It is for such a life that Christ provided by the distribution of the charisms and charismatic gifts of the Holy Spirit. What is a charism? It is a gift given foi service of some kind. It is a new and special way of relating to the Lord. At the same time, it is a call to serve with the power of the Holy Spirit given to fulfill that call. The word "charism," from the Greek word meaning gift, appears frequently in the Pauline writings of the New Testament. There are a number of references that we might cite; for our purposes here we will limit ourselves for the present to an examination of Paul's epistle to the Ephesians: Each of us h'as received God's grace in the measure in which Christ bestows it. Thus you find Scripture saying: "When he ascended on high, he took a host of captives and gave gifts to men." He ascended--what does this mean but that he first descended into the lower regions of the earth? He who descended is the very one who ascended high above the heavens, that he might fill all men with his gifts. Then Paul continues by telling us what some of Christ's gifts are: 41 CO 3:23. ~1 Co 15:28. 6Ep 5:21. 7See 1P 2:13-15 and 5:5. 678 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 It is [Christ]~who gave apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers in roles of service0for the, faithful to build up the Body of Christ. till we become one in faith and in the knowledge of God's Son, and form that perfect man who is Christ come to full stature,s This passage tells us that Christ mediates God's favor for the Mystical Body through his gifts. Here Paul speaks of apostles, prophets,.evangelists, pastors and teachers; and the writer cites specific roles of service for up-b, uilding the Christian community. The enumeration includes charisms or gifts of the Holy Spirit given by Christ for the Mystical ~Body. In the development of the Church ,certain of these functions, would often, though not always, come to be exercised by those who held ecclesial offices. Evidence for this is already provided by Scripture in the Pastoral epistles. Here we are told how Paul, just before his death, entrusted the care of the Church at Ephesus to Timothy and that of Crete to Titus. These two men represent the first scriptural evidence for the appearance of bishops on the Church scene. With an eye to future continuity, they, in turn, are told in these epistles to establish, other bishops and presbyters throughout their respective territories in order to continue the pastoral ministry of the Church begun by the apostles. Paul is even represented here as ordaining Timothy. So we read: "'Hence I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands."%Whatever else these epistles tell us when read together, it seems true that certain of the charismatic roles of service mentioned in the,epistle to the Ephesians were likewise authenticated by visible sacramental celebration within and for the community. Consequently, there was nothing contradictory or in-harmonious between the charismatic gifts and hierarchical ,gifts present in the early Church. Outside of Scripture the ancient document called the Didache or The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles contains this injunction: "Choose for yourselves, therefore, bishops and deacons worthy of the Lord . . . for ttiey also exercise among you the ministry of prophets, and doctors." ~0 According to Roman Catholic theology, in fact, it is through the episco-pal office of the bishop of Rome and of those who are in communion with him (hat the charism of infallible teaching authority is assured to the Church. In order that the gates of hell should not prevail against the Church, bishops continue to exercise the pastoral and teaching role once committed to Peter and the original band of Apostles. If the episcopal office in union with the pope is not assured the charism of authentic pastoral and teaching authority, then no one has the gift of teaching, no matter how "See Ep 4:7-13. ~T Tm 1:6. l°Doctrina Doudecim Apostolorum, XV. # I. in Funk. Patres Apostolicae, 1901. Vol. II. pp. 32-34. Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 679 charismatic he or she may seem to be. It was first to Peter and the apostles together with their successors in the episcopate that Christ's promise was made in a special way: "'You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church and the Gates of Hell shall not prevail against it."" And to this end also, Christ promises to be with them, and so with us, until the end of the world. Finally, it is to the bishops as authentic pastors of the Church that Catholics endowed with charisms must defer. Speaking of charisms, Vati-can 1I teaches that " . . judgment as to their genuineness and proper use belongs to those who preside, over the church and to whose special com-petence it belongs, not indeed to extinguish the Spirit, but to test all things, and to hold fast to what is good (see 1 Th 5:12, 19-20).''~z Because Jesus is the One Lord and Mediator of gifts (hat are hierarchical as well as the strictly charismatic ones, he assures a marvelous harmony between them. Because this harmony and. unity is a real gift and an authentic mark of Christ:.s Church, it calls forth an appropriate response from every member of the Body. So Paul exhorts the Ephesians: I plead with you. then, as a prisoner for the Lord. to live a life worthy of the calling ,you have received, with perfect humility, meekness and patience, bearing with one another lovingly. Make every effort to preserve the unity which has the Spirit as its origin and peace as its binding force. There is bul one body and one Spirit,just as there is but one hope given all of you by your call. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism: One God and Father of all who is over all, and works through all and is in ,,all.l:~ Disregard for Charism: and Office ~ Still it is today part of our sad inheritance that these words have not always been heeded. Heresies and schisms among Christians manifest the sin of our divisions. And this sin has been admitted and confessed in our time. Many of us are the descendants of Reformation and Counter- Reformation forebearers who themselves bore some responsibility for our presept divisions. So Vatican II officially recognizes that there were sins on both sides. BUt we today are no less .responsible than they. It is our vocation to open up our hearts to the.healing of such divisions that the Mystical Body of Christ on .earth might be made whole, and that the world might come to faith through its corporate and united witness. Some Catholic theologians today interpret the sin-sickness of Christian division as lack of openness to the presence and action of Jesus Christ in one another. From this perspective, the Reformation represents the Protes-tant rejection of the hierarchical gifts which the Catholic believes to be the ~tMt 16:18-19. ~ZDogmatic Constitution on the Church. Ch. II. "The People of God," ~ 12, in Abbot. p. 30. ~aEp 4: I-6, ~ Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 very heart of charismatic life in the Church. For the Catholic, to reject them is to reject Christ who said ".He who hears you hears me." The Catholic, Counter-Reformation era, on the other hand, manifests a certain deafness, or at least a hesitancy on the part of Catholics to attend to the charismatic voices of prophetic protest that should have been heeded sooner. Avery Dulles calls attention to the fact that within the Catholicism of the Middle Ages (the Pre-Reformation period) there was a lively and healthy tension between the prophetic and sacerdotal elements of the one charis-matic Church of Christ. It was the age of Bernard of Clair~,aux, Francis of Assisi and Catherine of Siena. But as time progressed, the institutional features began to assert themselves more and more. Reflecting on these facts Dulles concludes: The history of the Reformation might have been quite different if the church in the sixteenth century had been more open to searching scrutiny in light of the gospel. In post-Reformation times, the history of western Christianity is dominated by the prophetism of the Reformation churches and the sacredotalism of the Catholic tradi-tion. In a separation that ought never to have occurred, churches of the word were arrayed against churches of the sacrament?4 According to the foregoing analysis, the healing of sinful divisions and the restoration of a loving unity among separated Christians will depend on our openness to Jesus Christ, whether he comes to bring us fuller life through charismatic individuals (even those presently outside the visible structures of Roman Catholicism), or through the charismatic offices of the visible church. It seems that our closedness to either aspect of Christ life today is a tragedy that will only continue to bear bitter fruit. In summarizing some of" Karl Rahner's remarks on the charismatic element in the Church, Gerald McCool says very succinctly: The hierarchy has an indispensable role to play in the Church. Her founder has given I~gitimate authority to the pastors of his community. Nevertheless the Church's teaching and sanctifying mission has not been entrusted exclusively to her office holders and the Church must be extremely sensitive to the personal intimations of God's will and to the pastoral inspirations which have been given to charismatic individual Christians. The Church's leaders must not endeavor to manage everything in the Church "from the top down." They must rather encourage apostolic initiative "from the bottom up" on the part of charismatic individuals and charismatic pastors. The Church ideal is the harmonious cooperation of her hierarchical and charismatic elements. It should never be the absorption or the elimination of one element by the other.~5 This summary represents the position of Karl Rahner, a teaching whose basis was first enucleated in the Encyclical letter of Pius XII, Mystici Corporis, and whose substance finds expression in the teaching of Vatican II on cha~'i~m~ ~Avery Dulles. The Survival o.t'Dogma (Doubleday: 1973). p. 133. ~Gerald A. McCool, S.J., editor's introduction to the section entitled "'The Charismatic Element in the Church," in A Rahner Reader (Seabury Press, New York: 1975), p. 293. Jesus Chr&t, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 681 The ideal harmony and unity described in this teaching is really the gift of unity St. Paul speaks of in the fourth chapter of Ephesians. It is the unity of the Spirit that can come from none other than the Lord himself. By this very fact, it is not just some obscure or impersonal unity; rather, it is the dynamic and living unity of a Body that lives from moment to moment in a surrender of agapeic love whose very center is Christ and whose goal is the Father's glory. The Vision and Faith of Authentic Charismatics Because this gift of unity speaks of love, it implies sacrifice in the form of death to any self-centeredness that would threaten authentic unity. For the charismatic individual as well as for the ecclesiastical office-holder it demands ". perfect humility, meekness and patience, bearing wil~h one another lovingly." An authentic Catholic charismatic might well be the "man for all seasons" who is willing to suffer martyrdom rather than reject the word of Christ in his legitimate pastor. And the good pastor, like a good shepherd, might be one who fulfills his charismatic office by acknowledging and encouraging Christ's activity in prophetic individuals who can further the life of the flock. An example of this might well be Paul VI, as evidenced in his Apostolic Exhortation On Evangelization in the Modern World. He wrote: It is certain that, side-by-side with the ordained ministries whereby certain people are appointed pastors and consecrate themselves in a special way to the service of the community, the church recognizes the place of non-ordained ministries which are able to offer a particular service to the Church. A glance at the origins of the Church is very illuminating, and gives the benefit of an early experience in the matter of ministries. It was an experience that was all the more valuable in that it enabled the Church to consolidate herself and to grow and spread. Attention to the sources however has to be complemented by attention to the present needs of mankind and of the Church. To drink at these ever inspiring sources without sacrificing anything of their values, and at the same time to know how to adapt oneself to the demands and needs of today-- these are the criteria that will make it possible to seek wisely and to discover the ministries which the Church needs and which many of her members will gladly embrace for the sake of ensuring greater vitality in the ecclesial community. These ministries will have a real pastoral value to the extent that they are established with absolute respect for unity and adhering to th.e directives of the pastors, who are the ones responsible for the Church's unity and the builders thereof.~a With an eye to past history, I think you will agree that this is a hearten-ing statement, one that manifests remarkable openness to the initiatives and inspirations of the Holy Spirit for our times. But the realization of such hopes for a vital, charismatic life whose fruit and goal is Catholic unity may still seem somewhat visionary. If it does, perhaps that is understandable. The authentic unity of the Church, in order to be fully realized, must await ~Paul VI. On Evangelization in the Modern World (Publications Office of the United States Catholic Conference: Washington. D.C.). p. 53. 682 / Review for Religious, Volum.e 38, 1979/5 ,the return of the Lord. Still, the degree of its realization in the time that intervenes mustdepend on our faith and expectation. So we might°conclude our remarks by asking the question that Christ himself once posed: "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth'?" Or again we might ask, Is Jesus Christ Lol'd? To which we proclaim: "'Jesus Christ is Lord!" "Come, Lord Jesus!" REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" S.C. for Religious . 35 "Prayer of Personal Reminiscence," D. J. Hassel, S.J." . 60 "Profile of the Spirit:,A Theology of Discernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "Retirement or Vigil," B. Ashley, O.P. " . 30 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .75 "The Contemporary Spirituality, of the Monastic Lectio," M. Neuman, O.S.B . 50 "The Four Moments.of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J. . : . 50 "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 Orders for'the above should be Sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 Please include 75¢ postage and handling charge with preopaid orders. The Proposed Canons on the Consecrated Life Explained: III Joseph F. Ga/len, S.J. This is the third article commenting on the p~:oposed new canon law dealing with the consecrated life. Father Gallen's address is: Jesuit Community at St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Chapter V: Temporal Goods and the Consecrated Life Carl. 37, § 1. Norm and Right of Institutes Concerhing Temporal Goods. Norm. The law that her~'regu,!ates institutes of consecrated life is the section of the proposed canons on church possessions, or' ecclesiastical goods, which is the universal'law of the Chhrch on this matter. Institutes are to be guided by a different or co~trfiry norm that is established elsewhere on a particular matter in common law or that l~as otherwise been approved by the Holy See. . § 2. t~ight of Owning Property. a) Temporal Goods or Property. These are goods extrinsic to man that have a value in money, for example, money, real estate, stocks, bonds, furniture, equipment, clothing, books, and so forth. The present canon is concerned only with property owned by. an institute, province, canonically, erected house, or other public juridical person of the institute, not with that owned by individual religious. Goods of the former type are called church or ecclesiastical property, since the'y are owned by a public juridical person in the Church. b) Capacity: Every institute of consecrated life, province, or canonically erected house is~ an ecclesiastical public juridical person and possesses, in vir-tue 6f can. 13, the unlimited right of acquiring, owning, and administering 683 684 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 temporal property. This canon reads: "Any juridical person, whether public or private, is a subject capable of acquiring, retaining and administering temporal goods in accordance with the law." The capacity of an institute, province or house to acquire or own property is given by canon law and is not limited by canon law. The capacity extends to all species of property, for ex-ample, to immovable and movable goods. The former consists of things which are at least considered as being unable to be moved from place to place, for example, lands, a church, chapel, school, hospital, and so forth, and rights on such property. Movable property is that which can be so moved, for example, clothing, furniture, equipment, and so forth. The same capacity extends to all rights of use and/or receiving returns on property, for example, interest, dividends, and rents. c) Exclusion or Limitation of Capacity. The present proposed canon, .as in the past, permits the particular Rule or constitutions to exclude or limit the proprietary capacity described above. Such limitations are practically never found in institutes of brothers or sisters but they are encountered in some older institutes of men and women. Mendicant institutes are either complete-ly or partially incapable of possessing property from which they have the right to certain., and stable returns (Friars Minor of the Observance, Capuchins, Discalced Carmelites, and Jesuits). An institute may prescribe that the property acquired is to be spent for works and needs and that none or only a limited amount may be retained as capital. It may be enacted that the ownership of all property is invested in the institute, not in the provinces or houses or only subordinately in these. Acquisition by inheritance may be ex-cluded absolutely or through all or some of the members. Before adopting any such limitation, an institute should make a searching investigation into its efficacy as a means of poverty and its practicality in relation to the life and work of the institute. A constant emphasis on fundamental spiritual princi-ples and those specific to poverty can very likely be a more effective means than juridical incapacities or limitations. I have encountered practically no more recent institute of simple vows that has followed any of these practices of some more ancient institutes of solemn vows. The axiom that the decline of the consecrated life is caused by a decline in poverty or prayer may in fact be the reverse, that is, poverty or prayer declines because the spiritual life in general has declined. d) Ownership of Property. Can. 14 reads: "Ownership of goods belongs, under the supreme authority of the Roman Pontiff, to that legal person which legitimately acquired the same goods." Therefore, unless otherwise prescribed by the particular law, property is owned by the juridical person that acquired it. Houses, provinces, and institutes are distinct canonical per-sons; therefore, the assets and debts of one are not those of another. The Holy See holds the supreme administration of all church property in the sense that it is to be acquired, owned, and administered according to the laws and under the authority of the Church (can. 18). Civil incorporation has been ex, The Proposed Canons on the Consecrated Life: III / 685 plained under can. 9. In the proposed canons: can. 28, § 2, 2°,commands ad-ministrators of ecclesiastical property to observe canon and civil law; can. 42, § 1, commands that civil laws regarding the leasing of property should be observed; can. 44, that the provisions of civil law on contracts are also to be observed by canon law; and can. 45, § 2, that in dispositions to pious causes made by bequest, the solemnities of civil law should be observed whenever possible. e) Manner of Acquisition. A juridical person of the consecrated life may acquire property, temporal goods, in any manner that is lawful to individuals according to the natural law, for example, the fruit of one's labor, donations, purchases, inheritance, legacy, or according to the positive law of the Church or state, for example, by contracts or wills in conformity with such laws. f) Property of Institute and Province. The general funds consist of the payments of novices, the interest on dowries, and the dowry itself at the death of a sister. Donations, legacies, and inheritances, when given to either, also belong to the institute or province, as do the taxes on the houses for the general and provincial expenses. These are used for the expenses of the gener-al or provincial government, of the novitiate, juniorate, education and for-mation of the members, central infirmary, the erection of houses, the assistance of the poorer works and houses and, if possible, the establishment of a reserve fund for extraordinary expenses, and of a capital fund that will serve as a source of regular income for all or some of these purposes. g) General and Provincial Tax. The general and provincial expenses listed above are clearly necessary. They are for the good of the entire institute or province and must, at least in great part, be defrayed by contributions from the provinces and houses. Two species of taxation are found in constitutions: One-third of the Net Surplus of the Past Year. According to the Normae of 1901 (no. 294), each house was obliged to send this sum at the end of each year to the provincial or general treasury, if there were no provinces, and each province had to send the same fraction of its net surplus to the general treasury. This is still the norm of a sufficient number of institutes. The tax should be sufficient to take care of the general, and provinci.al expenses; it should not burden all or some of the provinces and houses excessively nor prevent the establishments of the institute from setting up a reserve fund for proper maintenance and development. An obvious defect of this system is that it is only a contingent payment. It depends on the fact of a surplus. The general and provincial expenses are absolute and constant; the tax should therefore be an absolute element of the house and provincial budgets. It should be condoned or lessened when a province or house simply cannot pay it. o. Determined Sum for Each Member. A more modern and preferable norm found in many constitutions more recently approved by the Holy See is that the determination of the amount of the tax is left to the general chapter, which can then increase or decrease it as the times and circumstances de- 686 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 mand. The chapter often determines that each house is to contribute a .fixed sum annually for each member assigned to the house. A fractional part of such a sum may then be assigned to the general funds when the institute is divided into provinces, or each pro

Issue 30.2 of the Review for Religious, 1971. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 6i~ Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania tgxo6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building ; 539 North Grand Boulevard ; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright (~) 1971. by REvmw Fog RELIO~OUS. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing offices. Single copies: $1.25. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years; other countries: $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REvmw Yon RELtOtOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REvmw yon RELIOIOU!L Change of address requests should include former address. - Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REvmw FOR RELIOIOUS; P. O. Box I 110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REvIEw FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. MARCH 1971 VOLUME 30 NUMBER 2 BROTHER THOMAS MORE, C.F.X. Religious: Partners for Justice and Peace Within the past few years, Pope Paul VI has established January 1 as a World Day of Peace. For 1971 he has selected the theme: "Every man is my brother." To enlist the support of religious institutes, the Holy See recently sent a document to" all superiors general stating that the World Day of Peace should transcend the limits of a simple celebration and really bring to the world the message of Christ's love. This Day of Peace is an invitation for an examination of conscience; it is an exhortation not to judge or condemn others, but to find out how much we ourselves as individuals and as mem-bers of society are accomplices of evil in this world; it is a means of making us more aware that we are and ought to be the guardians of our brothers. As religious by the very nature of their profession are orientated towards their fellow men, they have special motives for making this examination of conscience. Pious practices are not sufficient to make us good Christians. Christ Himself told us that we shall be judged by our attitudes and acts towards our fellow men. Nor is it suffi-cient that we be on good terms with our fellow religious. In this age, with the mass media keeping us informed about what is going on throughout the world, we cannot say to the Lord: "Where did we see you hungry, or naked, or" in prision. ?" The theme for 1971 looks beyond the present state of hostility in the world to the root of war--a failure to understand the yearning for the recognition of basic human rights by men in all parts of the world to escape from hunger, misery, disease, discrimination, and igno-rance. As long as this festering condition exists in any part of the world, there will always be the threat of war, violence,- and unrest. Perhaps nowhere else have the hopes of this part of mankind been better expressed than in Pope Paul's own Brother Thomas More, C.F.X., is su-perior general of the Xaverian Broth-ers; Via Antonio Bosio0 5; 00161 Rome, Italy. VOLUME 30, 1971 161 ÷ ÷ ÷ T. More~ C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS blueprint for peace, Populorum progressio: "Freedom from misery, ~he greater assuranceof finding subsistence, health and fixed employment; an increased share of re-sponsibility without oppression of any kind and in se-curity from situations that do violence to their dignity as men; better education--in brief, to seek to do more, know more and have more; that is what men aspire to now when a greater number of them are condemned to live in conditions that make their lawful desire illusory." It is these men and women in particular whom'the Holy Father wants us to see in the light of Christian charity as our brothers. For only when we do believe them to be our brothers can we be deeply concerned about their struggle to obtain their freedom. This struggle for freedom is given greater emphasis if it is looked at within the framework of three contem-porary issues that are on the front stage of our history. The first is that 20% of the people living in the Atlan-tic world command about 75 to 80% of the world's in-come, investment, and trade. This statement becomes more than a matter of statistics when we realize that the society within this 20% contains a large number of professed followers of Christ who are the inheritors of a Christian tradition. But within this society, "Christianity is invoked in order to lead a sort of crusade against communism. Christianity is invoked in order to combat the wave of hatred, deeprooted re-sentment and terror which is rising everywhere. The 20% who let 80% stagnate in a situation which is often sub-human-- what right have they to allege that communism crushes the human spirit? The 20% who are keeping 80% in a situation which is often sub-human--are they or are they not responsible for the violence and hatred which are beginning to break out all over the world?" x If these words seem to ring with the exaggerated rheto-ric of a prophet, they do come from the heart of a bishop in an underdeveloped section of Brazil to awaken us from complacency. The second contemporary issue is the influence of the younger generation in movements for social justice and peace. It is almost universally agreed that this young generation has a feeling of oneness in human develop-ment and is alive to the increasingly international char-acter of human events.~ Also among the young is a new 1 Helder Camara, "Development Projects and Concern for Struc-tural Changes," IDOC, North American edition, May 23 1970, p. 20. 2John Tracy Ellis notes that in the transformation of the Catholic Church's leadership in the United States from a passive to an active adherence to the social papal encyclicals of John XXIII and Paul VI, the Church had the advantage of the "radically different ap-proach to war and peace" of students in the Catholic colleges, uni-versities, and seminaries, "the vast majority of whom were much radicalism which questiOnS strongly, often violently, the priorities and standards inside the economy and struc-tures of the Atlantic world. "If, say the young, this is the ultimate fine flower of our commercial industrial civiliza-tion, it might be better to blow it up and start again." a The third current issue is the growing awarenegs that we live in a village world, that we belong to a world community. We are all becoming alive to the increasingly inter-national character of human events and associations. There has been a great stir~:ing of conscience on the sub-ject of world poverty in the midst of plenty, on the ques-tion of world peace, and in the matter of racial discrimi-nation, wherever it may be practiced. This stirring of conscience and the awareness of the repercussion of global events have helped to break down parochial and national barriers. People everywhere are catching the vision that sees any deprivation of human rights as a universal crisis that profoundly disturbs the world community. Within this contemporary framework of an unbalanced world economy, the influence of the young generation in social justice and peace movements, and the search for world community, the Holy Father's theme for 1971 has a particularly strong appeal for religious. There is abundant evidence that religious in the United States are aware of these three contemporary issues and of the major social ills of our times. The fol-lowing suggestions and reflections are made as contribu-tion to this growing involvement of religious in arousing the People of God to promote development, justice, and peace in a world where "Every man is my brother." Peace As professed disciples of Christ, we cannot limit our horizon to the internal concerns of our community life. As members of a religious institute, we cannot be satisfied with the missionary efforts of a few of our members in developing countries. Perhaps there was a time when people could feel at ease when they had prayed for peace. In our days, we have an inescapable responsibility not only to pray but also to do something for peace in the world. Peace is an involved and sometimes painful question. It touches us on the emotional level because of our racial, national, religious, social, or educational background, or more sensitive to the papal teaching on peace than their parents and grandparents had been" (American Catholics and Peake [Washing-ton: Division of World Justice and Peace, USCC, 1970], p. 14). a Barbara Ward, The Angry Seventies (Rome: Pontifical Commis-sion of Justice and Peace, 1970), p. 44. + + + Justice and Peace VOLUME 30, 1971 163 ÷ ÷ T. More, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 164 because of other more or less conscious motivations. For the.objective education of ourselves, our communities and those whom we serve in Our apostolates, we have to make a continuous effort to overcome these all too human feelings. We must likewise try to avoid all blind spots of emotional prejudice which prevent us from seeing the real issues. One of the first things to be done .is to seek informa-tion in order to build up a solid basis for judgment. To refuse, either emotionally or through sheer indifference, to become informed is certainly one of those sins of omission which the renewed liturgy has most appropri-ately called again to our attention. The constitution Gaudium et spes (n. 82) gave us a lofty ideal when it stated that "it is our duty to prepare, by all possible efforts, the time when all war can be com-pletely outlawed by international consent." Too often we are not aware of the moral influence which we, as individuals or as a group, can exercise on the political level. War is one'of the major moral concerns of our day --what is our attitude toward war in general? Do we know and appreciate the theoretical and practical impli-cations of moral theories on war and on the use of vio-lence? Does the traditional "just war" theory still hold in our times when the powers of destruction are apocalyptic? Gaudium et spes continues: "Those who are dedicated to the work of education, particularly of the young . should regard as their most weighty task the effort to form the minds of all to the acceptance of a new spirit of peace. Every one of us should have a change of heart." Those religious engaged in the apostolate of education have the opportunity and the duty to give practical direction in this area. In particular cases there should be discussions with students and parents on the implications of "conscientious objection," passive civil resistance, and other controversial attitudes towards war, social injustice, and the like. Moreover, as citizens we have our political rights and duties. On some occasions this may require forthright speech and action, after mature consideration, even against decisions made by the highest authorities. We all respect the attitude of a man like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and of others under the Nazi regime, or of some modern Soviet authors, or of. a man like Hekler Camara. Great and at times heroic courage is needed by such people to stick to their most profound convictions and to suffer for them. In a democratic society similar courage can sometimes be needed. One can appreciate, for instance, the moral fortitude of the American Jesuit provincials who, in a letter to all United States senators, on May 21, 1970, expressed their deep concern about the recent de-velopments in the Vietnam war. Development and Justice We must show every man the esteem, the respect, and love which he deserves as a member of the human family and as a being created by God and the object of His love. We must concern ourselves with the full human develop-ment of the world, to take a global view of mankind and of the human race, to see ourselves as members of a planetary village, where "Every man is my brother." Religious cannot be less sensitive than the younger generation to the worldwide and national obstacles to social justice; nor can they fail to see in these committed young people their fellow brothers and sisters who may be showing religious that evangelical poverty can be the purest expression of Christian liberality. In every religious institute there have been community and chapter debates on evangelical poverty. Some think it has lost its meaning or that it has no place in contem-porary society. But before reaching such conclusions, the individual religious or the community involved should remove from the scene all those obvious unnecessary forms of middle-class comfort upon which so many of them may depend. Perhaps a few bold steps in experi-encing how poor people live might also be considered. Communities and provinces could include special de-velopmen~ projects in their budgets.4 It may then hap-pen that religious will discover alternate options to settling down to a comfortable middle-class existence. This process of "settling down," with its subsequent bourgeois acceptance of a comfortable and secure living, is a corporate sin which religious can fall victim to against the spirit of poverty. And this lack of the spirit of evangelical poverty can prevent religious from being sensitive to the social ills of our society. The greater awareness in our times of belonging to a world community parallels the movement within the re-ligious life for a greater understanding of gommunity. If fuller participation in community is evangelical, if it is the forum 'in which the hope of the Resurrection and the appreciation of the present realities are held in ten-sion, then it will predispose religious to take a global vision of mankind and of the human race. This vision ought certainly to be one of the first fruits of the new religious community. *See Louis G. Miller, C.Ss.R., "The Social Responsibility of Re-ligious," REWEW fOR REI.~CIOUS, v. 29 (1970), pp. 658-61, for a practical suggestion for practicing social consciousness on the prov-ince level by investing funds to alleviate the pressing social crisis in our times. 4- 4- Justice and Peace VOLUME 30, 1971 165 ÷ T. More, .F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 166 Provincial and general chapters need to discuss those issues which profoundly affect the world community and national communities, with the hope that as they face their own internal problems, they will also turn toward those which lie at the heart of our contemporary society. Some of these issues are: racism, minority groups and. human rights, nationalism, .conscientious objection, the so-called theory of "just war," and disarmament in our era of nuclear weapons and missiles. Religious should continue to serve the Third World through their missionary work. However, this commit-ment ought to be incorporated into the new thinking on evangelization-development now taking place in many secular and religious assemblies. As Father Philip Land, s.J., of the Pontifical Commission of Justice and Peace pointed out recently to the superiors genera.1 in Rome, one of the chief contributions religious can make is to un-derstand the development debate, increase their com-mitment to the UN's Second Development Decade, and integrate the activity of their congregation into this global project. As an example of the need to understand the devel-opment debate, Father Land pointed out that real challenges confront religious as regards developing and developed countries in the area of education. With re-gard to the former, it is widely argued that Christian schools produce an education that simply ties their stu-dents to the existing power structures; with regard to the latter, it is questioned whether our schools produce an education conducive to the structural changes the poor nations rightly demand. The final suggestion is that made by Monsignor Joseph Gremillion, Secretary of the Pontifical Commis-sion of Justice and Peace, to a recent assembly of su-periors general: "The initiatives of religious are abso-lutely vital everywhere. Even though conferences of bishops might take certain responsibilities, it is essential that 'free movements' and individual leadership be ex-ercised-- a~d often this is provided by religious, men and women, as chaplains, inspirers, educators, anima-tors." "Every man is my brother": In choosing this theme, the Holy Father's aim is to help people to become aware of the unity of the human family, and thereby to favor a deeper and more sincere solidarity between men by removing from their manner of acting every form of discrimination based on distinction of race, color, cul-ture, ethnic origin, sex, social class, or religion. Are we prepared to play our part for a better, a more human, a more Christian world? JEAN LECLERCQ, O.S.B. Culture and the Spiritual Life I. THE MEDIEVAL MONASTIC TRADITION Learning and the culture which results from it refine a personality by helping it to acquire certain values of humanity which make up the fund of the commonwealth of human nature. In the Middle Ages these were never isolated from a man's religious living: they became part and parcel of his initiation to Holy Scripture, spiritual reading, meditation, prayer; they were determining fac-tors in a man's search for God, a search which, at all times, implies an ascesis not only for the inquiring mind, the intelligence, but for every one of man's faculties. These human values are not independent; they are an-cillary to the more noble values of a sacred humanity, that is, of a human nature and condition penetrated with the grace of Jesus Christ, transformed by the Holy Spirit, and consecrated, set apart for the Father in the Church. For the men of the Middle Ages who sought after God, Christian humanism meant something more than mere assimilation of culture; it implied the growth and self realisation of the person in the totality of his values: the raw material of human nature was never separated from the refining effect of Christian living. Certainly, culture and language had an important part to play in this process of fructification; but they did not, of themselves, bring it about. They favored the assimi-lation of profane literature and allowed the scholar to discern those experiences which were susceptible of being transformed and thus raised to the level of his own lived Christian reality, the level at which he became and real-ized himself by union with God. Thus in order to under-stand the humanism of these Medieval monks we must try to discover the specifically Christian experience lying behind the terms of a language inherited from masters of pagan antiquity. We have, as it were, to guess the per-sonal experience, the desire for God experienced by each + + + Jean Leclercq, O.S.B., is a monk of Clervaux Ab-bey in Luxem-bourg, Europe. VOLUME 30, 1971 16'/ lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 168 writer who loved learning; we must endeavor to unveil in some way the Medieval monastic writer's intimate being in presence of God. Conflicts and Solutions But once we start trying to do this, we perceive the presence of two conflicting parties. According to the degree of sensitivity of a given Medieval period, this conflict situation is experienced more or less keenly, more or less clearly, and expressed more or less frequently in the texts. But the two parties of the conflict are con-stantly in presence and are mutually conditioning. The first conflictual element is the relationship to be established between the spiritual life and the profane realities which one met with when learning Latin; the problem with which students had to grapple was how to remain Christian and become even more so by contact with pagan values expressed in ancient literature. The second element is situated in the sphere of impact be-tween man's fallen state and the nobleness of human nature: man has personal experience of concupiscence waging within him; his experience tells him that he is capable of sinning, and that he actually does sin; but he knows too that he is endowed with a real "capacity" for God--the Medieval man firmly believes that he is capable of throwing open his being to the divine pres-ence, and even that God does already dwell within him. Divided as he is, how can man recover his unity? Let it be noticed that the experience of this conflict situation was not the monopoly of monks: it is inherent to our human condition. The solution to this problem lies, now as then, in the encounter of God and man in Jesus Christ, and in the union between man and his Savior. Yet if we judge by the number of witnesses and their spiritual density, it seems that it was more keenly experienced, in a more privileged manner as it were, in monastic circles. Elsewhere, pastoral or temporal activi-ties distracted the attention. But in the cloisters, there was nothing to alleviate the inner combat; the monk constantly kept the whole of his existence focused on a search for the presence of God. His method was prayer. Nothing hollows a man out as much as the activity of prayer; nothing more than prayer makes him fathom the depths of his own abyss; in prayer man comes up against his own void, he experiences the need he has of God. We see, then, that monks were in the ideal conditions for suffering this conflict more keenly than their fellowmen. They expressed it more frequently than others outside the cloister, but it has always been the common lot of humanity. And humanism is nothing else than th'is conjunction of a given experience and a given culture in a single person. The higher this experience and this culture are, the more the person develops his human capacities. It is not a ques-tion here of mere literary varnish, but of a profound en-richment on the level of the intimate depths where a man meets his God. The humanism of the Medieval monks supposes this alliance of culture and the spiritual life, with all that this implies in ascesis and prayer. The mon-astery offered the means for acquiring culture, and the religious experience which the inmates underwent pro-vided an objective for this culture; the monastery was the workshop, so to say, where man, by the instrumen-tality of culture, attained, over and beyond culture itself, to union with God. The Drama of Christian Humanism Having once grasped the fact of the conflict which the Christian humanist, within and without the cloister, had to overcome, it will be suspected that harmony was not established without a certain drama. And Medieval mo-nastic texts confirm our suspicions. Always, we find the conjunction of the two inalienable elements of Christian experience provoked by honest and cultured reading of Holy Scripture. These two elements are ~emptation and hope: the latter is always predominant and has the last word. Why? Because, as one Medieval writer reminds us: Stat Iesus et dicit.--Jesus is there and He speaks to us. That is just what humanism is: an experience of Jesus Christ present in man. In order to taste, to savor, ~the reality behind words we must not only read but also live. You notice that reading, learning is a primary condition of any religious experience and the result is always inner peace. Between the beginning, the abc, and the end lies a long struggle to be waged between the different values, a struggle between contrary tendencies. Many acts of this drama are painful, but it always ends in light and peace. This supreme and perfect realization of-man, of hu-manism, is none other than the perfect accomplishment of the Incarnation: there is no more lofty humanism than that which leads to perfect union of man with God. In reading some Medieval authors one is tempted to say that for them there is a sort of humanism in God shown by divine care for man which goes so far as to assume humanity into the divinity. The kernel of such a theol-ogy is the justification of the humano-divine situation, the justification of the passion and death of Christ in function of man's reconciliation with God. And what strikes us in Medieval works structured round such theol-ogy is that often, though major stress is laid on God's honor and glory, the primacy of man and his salvation in the divine economy is dominant. For certain Medieval + ÷ + Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 ]69 ÷ ÷ ~ean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS theologians it is essential to God's honor and glory that mankind whom he has destined for eternal happiness should be saved. Conclusion Throughout the Middle Ages, the problem in mon-asteries and other Christian seats of learning was not to say "yes" or "no" to culture, but to discern the correct use to be made of it. The monks took the risk of ac-quiring culture, they saw the danger; they overcame the risk in the strength of humility and ascesis: their courage led them to love. Let us, in a sort of review of the conflict situation, see how monks were victorious in suffering and joy. The texts left by Medieval monks prove that it was no imaginary struggle; they help us to grasp the concrete, real, even existential nature of the conflict in the student --it was a struggle for purity of heart and purity of body. It was a real personal problem that the student had to solve; nothing could be further removed than this from a merely speculative, a so-called objective attitude with regard to profane realities. The problem was real and acute. The solution could only be found in Jesus Christ in whom one of the divine Persons, belonging to another world, lived in a man of our own world. The Last Supper and the Resurrection are absolute and undeniable reminders that Christ's pres-ence in this world appropriates even the physical ele-ments of man. And the Medieval person is always per-ceived in a triple relationship to a second self--a superego (t3ber-Ich), a self-surpassing self, if we may so say--to God and His kingdom, and to man's place in this king-dom. Now the ego surrenders itself to a superior power, not, as might be thought, by emptying self of sell but in liberating the potentials for self-surpassing which it con-tains. The aim is not to seek one's own advantage-~one's own pleasure or glory--but to renew the experience of those whom the Bible tells us encountered God, before being in a position to manifest Him. The glory of a creature is to serve the Creator, to refer to Him; and this man is able to do because God has endowed him with reason. Man is not centered on himself but on God, and the Medieval monk cannot construct a doctrine of man on any other foundation than his relationship to God. The monk exists as an individual, and he knows it, he experiences the truth of this reality in moments of temp-tation and on every occasion where he becomes conscious of himself; yet he knows too that he is not autonomous in the sense that he could have any worth independently of God; the monk's self-realization, the development of his personality as such could never be his sole objective nor sut:fice to make him totally happy. There thus coexist in him at all times, and sometimes in a manner which we find baffling, on thb one hand that which is specific to his human nature--his failings, but also his capacity for reasoning, for critical reflection-- and on the other hand faith in a mystery which he cannot grasp, and even belief in the marvelous. The Medieval religious man knows that he carries within himself both greatness and pettiness; heis a sinner, but God comes to meet him, and he in turn goes towards God. The en-counter is perfected in Christ who, as God, created man in the cosmos, and as man situated Himself in this same cosmos. The encounter between God and His sinful crea-ture is also accomplished in the man who lives united to Christ. The Christian man is already, in the kingdom of Christ, a homo caelestis--but not entirely so. Para-doxically, carnal man has still to become the heavenly man which he already is. This transformation, this meta-noia, can only be accomplished within him by the daily fight, by a constant and daily conversion to the Lord. The perfect man, he who is already totally re-formed, even transformed, transfigured, is none other than the saint: from this point of view, it is easy to understand why hagiography has such an important place in Me-dieval monastic historiography. Lastly, just as he is attracted by heaven--which he likes to represent as being open, on the occasion of theophanies for example--the humanist in the monastic Middle Ages is on friendly terms with everything created: the cosmos and animals which he tends to idealize. There is a tension within him, between his own self and the world in its two aspects, earthly and yet already sanctified, and in this sense, heavenly. The solution to all these at-tractions, tendencies, and tensions lies in the mystery of the cross which is figured in medieval representations as a symbol of struggle and victory: in hoc signo. Sometimes the cross is framed by a low doorway, the narrow gate which at once separates and unites, and by which one has to pass freely of one's own will by liberating self, by shaking off something of self --- this is the narrow gateway beyond which we can find self again, and with self every-thing else once sacrificed but now bathed in light. II. A CONTEMPORARY MODEL But now, in order to step beyond Medieval history, let us see how such an ideal can be lived in our own desac-ralized and profane twentieth century. There are many examples of men ~ind women who ally culture with the spiritual life sometimes attaining to high sanctity on the university campus--always under the sign of the cross ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 of Christ. The example we choose to quote here is none other than Edith Stein: the scholar and the saint, as she has been called. Witnesses are never more eloquent than in the testimony of their lives, often translated, in the case of men and women of learning, into writing. We can do no better than let Edith Stein speak for herself in a few carefully selected texts. As we read through her works we notice that there is one major generating principle of energy--a unified ex-istence in which the many activities are brought together as a single unit tending to the one thing necessary to the Christian humanist: the knowledge of Christ crucified and his all-pervading dynamic presence in professional and private life. Edith Stein had grasped this principle. After having spent Holy Week of 1928 at the Benedictine Abbey of Beuron, she wrote: Passiontide and Easter are not meant to express simply a transitory festive mood quickly submerged in the daily hum-drum; no, they are the divine power living in us, which we take with us into our professional life so that it may be leavened by it. This oneness, this unity between apparently contradic-tory, even paradoxical elements of an existence seems to be a characteristic of Edith Stein--the passion and the cross are a single divine power, the fulcrum by which she raised the deadweight of daily humdrum existence. There was a constant dialectic tension within her, a continuous striving to reconcile on a higher level--that of union with God--the realities of life, at home, in school, or on the campus. It is evident that this harmonious unity was not at-tained without a persevering ascesis in order to face squarely and solve peacefully the dilemmas roused by the co-existence of the love of learning and an ardent desire for God. In the present context we cannot develop the matter as fully as we should like; we shall merely illus-trate how Edith Stein harmonized four very important dialectic tensions. + + + Jean Leclereq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 172 i. Harmony between the Spiritual and the Intellec-tual Life In February 1928 she wrote: Of course religion is not just something for a quiet corner and a few hours of leisure; it must be the root and ground of all life, and this not only for a few chosen ones, but for every true Christian. (of whom, indeed, there is always only a small number). It was through St. Thomas that I first came to realize that it is possible to regard scholarly .work as a service of God. Immediately before, and a long ome after my conversion, I thought living a religious life meant to abandon all earthly things and to live only in the thought of the heavenly realities. Gradually I have learned to understand that in this world something else is demanded of us, and that even in the con-templative life the connexion with this world must not be cut off. Only then did I make up my mind to take up scholarly work again. I even think that the more deeply a soul is drawn into God, the more it must also go out of itself in this sense, that is to say into the world, in order to carry the divine life into it. This text shows that Christian humanism is not the pri-vate property of scholars, it is incumbent on every Chris-tian. We also notice that learning, scholarly work, is a service of God. In other letters Edith Stein states the con-ditions for maintaining the balance of power between the spiritual and the intellectual. The keyword is sim-plicity. The scholar has to be simply content with the conditions of life; he has not to be anxious about many and superfluous things. We might almost say that he has to take life as it comes. This is detachment, another con-dition which Edith Stein considered essential for the truly Christian humanist--detachment from earthly riches, but also detachment from spiritual goods: she teaches that we must not be anxious about times for praying---each one must pray according to the possibilities of his professional commitments. Nevertheless a portion of the day should be set apart for God. Edith Stein writes: The chief thing is first to have a quiet corner where one can converse with God as if nothing else existed, and this every day. The early morning seems to me the hest time for this, before the daily work begins. Further, I think, this is where one re-ceives one's mission, preferably for each day, without choosing anything oneself. Lastly, one should regard oneself entirely as an instrument, especially those powers with which one has to work, for example in our case one's reason--I mean as an in-strument which we do not use ~urselves, but God in us. 2. Harmony between the Intellectual Li[e 'and'Every-day Life The scholar must not live shut up in his study from morning to night. The humanist, the Christian scholar, is a person closely linked with human values in and around him; he should have contacts with the world of his fellow men if his learning is to be really a service of God. Christian Iearning, like prayer from which it should never be separated, is a diacony. Here again, Edith Stein has left principles of unifying action, theory which was practiced in her own existence as a scholar, within and without the cloister. She was well aware of the danger of intellectual aloofness as she shows by this extract from an article published in 1931: All of us who live in the universities absorb a little of the "type ot~ the intellectual". But we must be quite clear that this attitude separates us from the crowds. Outside people bat-tle with the daily needs of life in their manifold forms. As soon as we go out they confront us . We are placed among people ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture 173 whom we are meant to help in their needs. They ought not to think of us as strange beings living in an inaccessible ivory tower. We must be able to think, feel, and speak like them, if they are expected to have confidence in us . The intellectual can find the way to the people--and without finding it he can-not guide them---only if, in a certain sense, he frees himself" from the intellect. Here again we notice the principles of Christian soli-darity, humanity, service, and detachment: freedom from self for others. ÷ ÷ ÷ lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 174 3. Harmony between Traditional Culture and Con-temporary Mentality This third dilemma is by no means the least which the modern scholar has to face.For Edith Stein, the patron of existentialism, as she has been called, it meant balance between the past and the present. The favored disciple of Husserl, translator of Aquinas, had to find a way of living progress; she had to realize the Bergsonian principle of progress: the past which advances and amplifies in the present as it'becomes the future. Her well-defined meth-odological principles (betraying an ascetically trained mind) enhanced and structured her art as a teacher and show how she combined the past and the present: Wherever scholastic arguments are our point of departure, we shall first present them in scholastic terminology. But in order to ascertain that we have grasped the actual sense of the matter, and are not just playing about with words, we shall seek to find our own terms, in which to render the pas-sages in question. While doing this we want to think together with the old masters in a vital manner; but not only with the old masters, but also with those who have resumed the ques-tion in their own way in our time . This is the necessary way especially for the present author, whose philosophical home is the school of Edmund Husserl, and whose native tongue, as far as philosophy is concerned, is the language of the phenomenologists. These only too few texts give us a glimpse of the mind and thought of Edith Stein. They hint at the way in which she strove to attain union with God through books and without alienating herself from her fellowmen. Any who is familiar with the work and life of Edith Stein knows that the application of these principles was not always easy: Edith Stein willed her way to holiness as a scholar; hers was no haphazard chance: she collaborated with divine grace with all the ardor of her semitic heart. EXISTENTIAL EXPERIENCE Nothing. happens by chance. Edith Stein contests the formula of Heidegger thrown into existence. In dense and direct sentences she attacks the weak spot of his ex-istentialist philosophy, she attacks the Geworfenheit: With this is expressed above all that man finds himself in existence, without knowing how he has come there . But with this the question of the "whence" has not been abolished. How-ever violently one may try to silence it or to forbid it as sense-less, it always rises again irresistibly from the peculiarity of hu-man being demanding a Being that is both the foundation of the former and its own foundation, needing no other, demand-ing the One who throws that which is "thrown." And with this the "being thrown" is revealed as creatureliness. In this text Edith Stein reveals herself to be truly a humanist: she has a keen and penetrating vision of the human situation. She writes with even greater acuity: The nothingness and transitoriness of its own being becomes clear to the Ego, if it takes possession of its own being by thought . It also touches it. through fear (Angst), which accompanies unredeemed man through life in many disguises ¯. but in the last resort as fear of his own non-being . How-ever, fear is not normally the dominant sensation (Lebensge- [iihl). This it becomes in cases which we describe as pathologi-cal; but normally we walk in great security as if our being was a certain possession . The reflecting analysis of our being by thought shows how little cause for such security there is in itself., the undeniable fact that my being is transitory., and exposed to the possibility of non-being is matched by the other, equally undeniable fact that, notwithstanding this transitoriness, I am and am kept in being from one moment to the other, and embrace a lasting Being in my transitory be-ing. I know myself held, and in this I have peace and se-curity- not the self-assured security of a man who stands in his own strength on firm ground, but the sweet and blissful se-curity of the child which is carried by a strong arm-~considered objectively, a no less reasonable security . Hence in my being I meet another, which is not mine, but is support and ground of my unsupported and groundless being. The dispositions of the unified soul of Edith Stein are revealed in the text we have just read where we notice the words "great security," "peace and security," "sweet and blissful security." The reason for this happy state does not lie in the Ego, but in the lasting Being whom we encounter when we enter deeply into ourselves. It is this encounter in man of God and man which should be the objective of every Christian scholar today, as in the Middle Ages. How can we come to recognize the supreme Being, He who is, in our own finite being? By reasoning or by faith: the latter was the way of the medieval monks; it was the way, too, of Edith Stein: The security of being, which I sense in my transitory being, points to an immediate anchoring in the last support and ground of my being . This is, indeed, only a very dark sensing, which one can hardly call knowledge . This dark sensing gives us the Incomprehensible One as the inescapably near One, in whom we "live and move and have our being," yet as the Incomprehensible One. Syllogistic thinking formu-lates exact notions, yet even they are incapable of apprehend-ing Him who cannot be apprehended; they rather place Him at ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 a distance, as happens with everything notional. The way of faith gives us more than the way of philosophical knowledge: it gives us the God of personal nearness, the loving and merci-ful One, and a certainty such as no natural knowledge can give. Yet even the way of faith is a dark way. This text shows how very close she was to her own age; she proves here that she allied the heritage of ancient masters with the modern mentality, more intuitive than that of Ancient Greece: the intelligence of Edith Stein was semitic, Biblical and it is this Biblical essence which makes her to be kith and kin with Medieval monastic humanists and scholars. THE SCHOLARLY NUN But there is more than a certain way of apprehending God which links Edith Stein to the monastic thinkers of the Middle Ages. Like them she renounced the secular seats of learning to give herself to God as a nun in a Carmelite convent. At first she gave herself entirely to the humble duties of a beginner in the monastic life; but later on, at the request of her superiors, she began to write and study again. One of her two works concerning mysticism has a very telling title: Kreuzeswissenschaft (Science of the Cross). It was written for the fourth centenary of the birth of St. John of the Cross, and in it we discern the insuffi-ciency of pure philosophical thinking for tackling prob-lems of mystical theology. There, too, we recognize Edith Stein--now Sister Benedicta of the Cross--the philoso-pher whose thought was always structured and subtended by rigorous methodological principles indicative of a dis-ciplined mind. A passage from the preface to Science o[ the Cross reveals this: In the following pages the attempt has been made to grasp John of the Cross from the unity of his being, as it is expressed ~n his life and in his works, from a point of view that makes it possible to envisage this unity . What is said there on the ego, freedom and person, is not derived from the writings of our holy Father John. Though certain points of contact may be found, such theories were remote not only from his leading intention but from his mode of thought. For only modern philosophy has set itself the task of working out a philosophy of the person such as has been suggested in the passages just mentioned. ÷ Once more we recognize the unifying [actor which was + characteristic of her own life; unity of being. And this + leads us to the last dilemma which we wish to mention. $ean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 176 4. Harmony between Personal Experience and Serv-ice The question set here is how to share with others what we ourselves may have received in prayer: how may we legitimately share with Others our own personal experi-ence of God who reveals Himself to mankind? Divine revelation needs to be grasped by the human reason en-lightened by faith. It is faith alone that allows us to suck the honey out of the hard rock of the Scriptures. Learning is a help to deciphei'ing the letters, bfit the real key to Scriptural exegesis is faith contained in a pure heart--blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God. But the talent received must not be buried, it must be shared with others. Edith Stein writes: It may also happen that a sort of "office of the keys" is conferred on individuals or groups which have received the gift of Scriptural exegesis . To these spirits is given the office to transmit the light they receive . It is their duty to accept the Divine mysteries. . with. a purified mind .and to take charge of them. Th~s also ~mphes preaching and interpreting the Divine Word. Corresponding ~o the different modes and degrees of hiddenness, there are different modes and degrees of unveiling, degrees of office. Conclusion: The Science of the Cross There could be no better summary of all that has been said in this paper. At all periods, there is only one Chris-tian humanism, one Christian way of uniting love of learning with desire for God: the way of the cross, the narrow door of self-denial, the existential imitation of Jesus Christ, God made Man. When a scholar converts to God, dedicates his whole mind and heart to God in the carrying out of his professional duties of study or teaching, then, and only then, will he be a light shining in the darkness. Edith Stein tells us what she means by sicence of the cross: If we speak of the Science of the Cross, this is not to be understood as science in the ordinary sense: it is no mere theory . It is indeed known truth--a theology of the Cross~ but it is living, actual and active (wirkliche und wirksarne) truth: it is placed in the soul like a seed, takes root in her and grows, gives the soul a certain character and forms her in all she does or leaves undone, so that through this she herself shines forth and is recognized . From this form and force living in the depth of the soul is nourished the philosophy of this man and me way in which God and the world present themselves to him. For Edith Stein, as for every great and holy scholar throughout the ages, faith in God and His mystery are primordial: Where there is truly living faith, there the doctrines of the faith and the great deeds of God are the content of life, every-thing else must take second place and is formed by them. This is holy objectivity (heilige Sachlichkeit): the original interior receptivity of the soul reborn of the Holy Ghost. Whatever is brought to her, this she accepts in the proper way and depth; and it finds in her a living, mobile power ready to let itself be ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME -~0, 1971 177 formed, and unhampered by false inhibitions and rigidity . If the mystery of the Cross becomes her inner form, then it becomes the science of the Cross. This science is a night, an absence: if we accept to believe in the divine Crucified then our language is silence for "All speaking about God presupposes God's speaking. His most real speaking is that before which human speech is silenced." ÷ ÷ + lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 178 MARY-ANGELA HARPER A Layman's Response to Contemporary Religious While post-Vatican II laymen bustle about the business of shaping their new, enlarged role in the contemporary Church, many members of another segment of the People of God, the consecrated religious, without much notice from their lay brothers, are quietlyteari'ng themselves to shreds by agonizing selbcriticism. The general cause of this self-destruction seems to be a fear that traditional religious life is anachronistic both in form and purpose. The only hope for survival, these religious have decided, is radical change. To the laity, this "change" has meant new habits and new names and more frequent socializing. For the reli-gious, the speci.fics of change fall into one of two categor-ies: (a) concern with structures and relationships within the community and (b) concern with the function of reli-gious within the Christian community-at-large. On the one hand, therefore, religious .struggle with such questions as size and government, and with legisla-tion pertaining to prayer, work, recreation, and dress. And they scrutinize themselves as individuals to verify their personal authenticity. The criteria for this verifica-tion are contemporary philosophical and psychological definitions of man which emphasize the affective dimen-sion and the primacy of interpersonal relationships in meaningful human development. On the other hand, religious seek to identify the shape and character of their activities in a newly-valued, post-conciliar world that contemporary theologians recognize as not only redeemed but continually sanctified by Christ who abides within it. A genuine Christian mission, they believe, must be one of real involvement with the nuts and bolts of everyday living and a rubbing of shoulders with lay co-workers in the apostolic field that is the world. To be Christian missionaries, then, religious cannot ÷ ÷ Mary Angela Harper is chairman of the philosophy department; Dun-barton College o[ Holy Cross; Wash-ington, D.C. 20008. VOLUME ~0, 1971 179 4" M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]80 live a less-than-human existence, above and apart from the rest of men. They must purge religious life of any alienating, stereotyped, and distorted image and of out-moded, restrictive characteristics such as traditional vows and lockstep community exercises. These must be re-placed by a new and more democratic concept of reli-gious community which allows each individual to de-velop his own capacities in freedom and love and by new forms of religious activity that permit creativity, sponta-neity, affectivity, and the celebration of a redeemed hu-manity. And all of this is taking place ~vith relatively little public notice or comment from the lay element of the People of God, for whose sake religious toil, and whose acceptance they seek. But more interestingly, these con-siderations, critical as they have been to religious, are of little pressing concern even to the better informed lay-men, who nnderstand and sympathize with the crisis in religious life. As laymen see it, the effectiveness (and, therefore, justification) of consecrated commitment de-pends not upon what religious wear, or what they are called, or on how they organize their daily lives. The layman primitively and primarily cares that religious con-tinue to achieve their unique, specific and indispensable mission--to point to God. Now surely it is presumptuous, if not absurd, for any-one to assume the position of spokesman for the laity-at-large. Every layman responds to the world and to people and to situations differently, depending upon the varia-ble factors of education, spiritual formation, and per-sonal experience. My own response to contemporary reli-gious is indeed conditioned by each of these factors. But it is also and especially determined by a specific view of our post-Vatican II world. The first statement pertaining to this contemporary Christian Weltanschauung main-tains that existence today is an organic, interpersonal complex, in which all individuals, loyal to their unique identities, nonetheless recognize that the perfection of this identity takes place in a process of completion by others. It is with others that each individual achieves his own identity, and together, by mutual interaction, that all attain the perfection of the whole that is our world. This is the characteristic of complementarity. But equally important is the correlative principle which maintains that this organic, interpersonal universe is sustained and vivified by belief in Christ who is God and in a divine kingdom in which humanity will be absolutely perfected. Authentic existence in the real world of today, then, is a life predicated upon interper-sonal cooperation, but simultaneously upon co-commun-ion in Christ as a pledge of the Parousia. All the People of God are bound together by a recognition of the neces-sity of others, which is reinforced and transfused by Christian love--the giving of the self to achieve the oth-er's perfection in Christ. And each thus con.tributes to the integral and absolute perfection of all in the kingdom of God. Now, if this "new look" of a nearly 21st century world turns on such an enlarged principle of complementarity, and if a meaningfully contemporary Christian world is a complex of Christ-loving, kingdom-seeking, mutually per-fecting human spirits, then distinction and difference is as significant as unanimity and wholeness, because with-out these characteristics, we might achieve fusion, but never complementation. Moreover, a lack of unique perfection in any individ-ual component in this interconnected, organic complex, is a loss, not only to the totum, but to all others as individuals. This was the message of Henri de Lubac ten years ago when he wrote of the Church as the "corporate destiny of mankind," and explained that "in the measure of [each one's] strength and according to his own voca-tion- for the gifts of the one spirit differ, and in the unity of one same body, each member has a different function--leach] will labour heart and soul to achieve it. If he fails fall] will feel it as a wound in [their] own flesh." 1 The uniqueness of the individual contribution gives a specific character to the whole Christian commu-nity which cannot be replaced by another. And the perfection of one is the perfection of all. And this is the message today when we use the term witness to identify the Christian mission in a post-Coun-cil world. William J. Richardson, S. J., has analyzed the contemporary notion of witness~ and notes that it "in-volves a double communion--communion, between the witness and the truth, or person to which/whom he testi-fies; [and also] a communion . between the truth/per-son and the tribunal or persons before whom the witness testifies." This double communion is suggested by the formulae being witness and bearing witness. To be a witness, Father Richardson says, is to be so identified with a person or truth that to deny these would be to deny oneself. Moreover, "the quality of witness will be measured by the intimacy of the union between the witness and the one to whom he testifies, the extent to which they become one." To bear witness is to share this person with other per- ¯ Henri de Lubac, S.J., Catholicism (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1958), p. 31. 2William J. Richardson, S.J., The University and the Formation of the Christian, an unpublished manuscript, copyrighted by the author, 1958. ÷ ÷ Layman's Response to Religious VOLUME 30, 1971 18! ÷ M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 182 sons. And the result of the sharing is that the witness thereby grows more deeply in the communion himself because, within an interacting complex, he now contacts this reality through the communion of others which was heretofore denied him. All witnesses, therefore, enrich one another within the organic whole that is the testify-ing community, and achieve growth and perfection by an interpenetrating exchange of individual identity and meaning. Should the uniqueness of the individual be less-ened or lost, however, the totum would suffer irreparably. In terms of witness, this presence, this communication of meaning would be denied to the Christian community, which becomes radically impoverished. Now, what is the witness of consecrated religious? What do these men and women offer the Christian community and to each individual within it that is unique and indis-pensable, and without which each of us would suffer? Consecrated religious are witnesses, par excellence, to the Pilgrim Church, and to the truth that the Christian com-munity is, in fact, on its way to Almighty God. As Sidney Callahan has observed in Beyond Birth Con-trol, 3 present existence is 9ctually a life of incomplete-ness; perfection and completed history await the Parou-sia. "Those who choose [consecrated religious lives]", she says, "live the sign of incompleteness, of fulfillment to come, of aspiration to a more complete community and pe.rfect unity." By our own distinctive form of existence, we, the laity, witness to a restored creation which James O'Reilly ex-plains in "Lay and Religious States" 4 reveals "the power and goodness of business, marriage ~nd freedom [to] carry us toward the kingdom." By virtue of their distinc-tive state of life, consecrated religious witness to "the limited character of the goodness of property, of spouse [and] of liberty." ~ They give witness to the truth that although possessions and ownership, marital love and total psycho-physical unity, unlimited movement and op-portunity, are good, God is still better. No matter how intrinsically valuable these considerations may be, they do not suffice of themselves to bring human existence to completion and perfection. This can only be achieved by our releasing control and, in Father O'Reilly's words, letting the world "slip into the hands of God," 6 who saves and completes and perfects. Consecrated religious help us laymen to loosen our hold and to let go. 8Sidney Cornelia Callahan, Beyond Birth Control (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1968), p. 80. ~James O'Reilly, "Lay and Religious States," REviEw fOR REU-GiOOS, v. 27 (1968), pp. 1027-52. Ibid., p. 1051. Ibid. Such a minor miracle is wrought by their reminder to us of our need to be pilgrims. And this they effect by their public vow of total commitment to a communal life manifestly lived in poverty, celibacy, and obedience (or whatever language they choose to signify these realities), which reinforce in us the truth that one gain~ by giving. We, who behold such a commitment, and recognize it as the foundation of all human religious development--and who may even be living these values, though in a less concentrated, less explicit form--we look to religious for inspiration and for guidance. And by their spirit of sim-ple frugality, availability, and openness, they sustain us in our efforts to rightfully enrich this world, and to de-velop and fulfill our human personalities, but with hearts turned heavenward. To this end, religious provide us with a working model of persons-in-c~ommunity and of a united humanity. In the day-to-day liv.ing of this value, they confront us with the actual experience of availability and generosity which reminds us of our need for others, and of our obligation to care and to spend ourselves for one another. By their refusal to seek perfection in isolation, manifesting instead responsibility for others within (and beyond) their com-munity, they instruct us that the meaning of authentic human freedom involves limitation and amounts to de-termined- indetermination. And by refusing to choose those with whom they live on the basis of common inter-ests or congeniality, they instruct us that the comm~unity of man must be a gathering together, not for personal gratification, but rather to share and reenforce one an-other in the love of God. Consecrated religious help us to reconcile apparent conflicts between the human and the divine by their pure, simple, and direct vision, which embraces both man and God in a single gaze. And by their evident spirit of prayer, they redirect our consciousness, not exclusively outward to legitimate worldly cqncerns, but inward to the center of our being, where we contact ourselves most truly, and discover here that our own meaning is rooted in a divine source. And they bring us a joy that seems to us to shine forth from the wellsprings of their personal communion with the divine; and we warm ourselves in its brightness, and feel it, somehow, transform us. Nor are these merely psychological phenomena, wrapped around us like a security blanket. We are, I think, well adjusted, often well educated laymen, quite convinced of our dignity as laymen. We are not having an identity crisis. In fact, quite to the contrary, we have discovered ourselves, and the significance of our roles as mature Christians, for the first time in history. But we also believe in the necessity and intrinsic value of a reli-÷ ÷ ÷ Layman's Response to Religious VOLUME 30, 1971 183 + + 4. M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]84 gious liIe o[ total commitment to God. We acknowledge the indispensable contribution it makes to the Christian community and sincerely belie;ce that this contribution depends upon the preservation of its unique sign-value. Moreover, we hope that it will be meaningfully and truly implemented. Such "true" implementation, in the mind of the lay-men, involves certain conditions, however. First of all, the laity expect religious to be honestly poor. Such pov-erty the layman does not confuse with destitution, but rather understands as involving what the Duquesne Uni-versity Institute of Man program refers to as a "respectful use and celebration of things natural and cultural as gifts of the holy." We appreciate the fact that books, facilities, time, and recreational opportunities are necessary for the religious to function professionally. But we also expect evidence of what Ladislas M. Orsy, S. J. calls "the effica-cious desire to give away [everything] in the name of God's kingdom." 7 All this world's bounty,, therefore, could be employed naturally, intelligently, and happily, but with the evident and effective intention of always viewing the acquisition and use of created goods (including the self) in the con-text of community. Moreover, this intention would em-brace a life-style modeled on that of Christ Himself, whose life was one of frugal simplicity, of reverence for creation, and of availability to all men. Secondly, the laity respond appreciatively to the celi-bate state when it is conceived (to borrow again from the Institute of Man) as involving a "respectful love of self and others as uniquely called and graced by the Sacred." Such love would seek to establish r.elationships of friend-ship with fellow religious and laity, and these would be humanly warm and expressive and unstrained by old fears of compromise and contamination by sexual compli-cations- phobias that have happily been laid to rest.It would presuppose a genuine rejoicing in the goodness of the lay role and the married state and preclude an artifi-cial hierarchical understanding of vocations or distorting comparison of functions based on measures of perfection. And, of course, it would thoroughly dispose of any "mys-tique" of religious life. Celibate love knows that each state of life is necessary to the other, and that each develops in perfection and grace in terms of its counterpart.8 It understands that re-ligious and laity must be wholly open to one another as persons in our contemporary Christian world, because 7 Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J., "Poverty in the Religious Life," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 26 (1967), pp. 60--82. sSee David B. Burrel], C.S.C., "Complementarity," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 26 (1967), pp. 149-60, for a discussion of this point. this is the sine qua non of both human friendship and Christian love. To this end, it welcomes opportunities to join the laity in their homes for occasions of social sig-nificance, and also cordially unlocks the cloister doors so that laymen may breathe of the spirit that uniquely dwells there. But in all these interpersonal relationships, the laymen expects that celibate love will be permeated and directed by a necessary wisdom which is sensitive to the priority of God's relationship to each soul, and efficaciously con-cerned not to frustrate God's plan for it. Thirdly, laymen expect religious, whether they be "subordinates" or "superiors" (or whatever new titles they use) to live a life of genuine obedience. Such a life is nurtured and guided by a r~spectful alertness to what the Institute of Man calls "the dynamics of the life situation as a temporal and local manifestation of God." This means that all elements of a religious community must be finely tuned-in to the real and concrete and changing needs of the world and the Church. It means, in fact, redefining obedience as the act of listening--listening to the will of almighty God making itself explicit through the Scriptures, indeed, but also through the events of the world, the activities of daily living, and through personal contacts with us laymen. In the light of this concept of obedience as listening, the specific authority structures of a religious community seem to us relatively unimportant. What matters is that all members, including "superiors" (and presumably there will always be someone who formally accepts re-sponsibility for the community), to appreciate the neces-sity of others in the decision-making process. They must understand that this imperative follows from the incom-pleteness of any individual in value and operation, and from everyone's need for complementation and perfect-ing. Finally, but actually firstly, the laity expect consecrated religious to be men and women well versed in the art of prayer. We have observed that their prayer life produces an intimacy .with almighty God that penetrates their whole being; and we have often experienced the truth that contact with them is a happy, homely contact with the Divine. Somehow, laymen find it difficult to speak easily or publicly with loving familiarity of God, and tend to tuck Him away for private moments. Yet our hearts respond with almost childlike delight when reli-gious women and men effect His presence in our midst by their relaxed reference to the divine Person who is their friend. But His presentation must also be honest. He must be there as the genuine beloved, or the introduction will .generate resentment and distrust and even, some-÷ ÷ + Layman's Response to Religi'ous VOLUME ~0, 1971 ÷ ÷ M. A. Ha~per times, contempt. And, of course, regular, vital, personal prayer makes the difference--prayer for which action is no substitute. But laymen do expect religious to be action people as well. They expect to find religious present in all situa-tions of want, be these physical poverty, or infirmity, or social injustice, and to support the laity in their human commitment to one another. Moreover, we welcome them to work alongside us in our professions, which we hope and anticipate they will competently enrich by their unique intimacy with and witness tQ. Christ. In all these activities, however, we ask the consecrated religious not to blur their identity with ours. Such blur-ring does not necessarily take place by their choosing ordinary lay clothing instead of traditional habits, though many laymen appreciate some sort of identifiable although contemporary dress or insignia for professional or public appearances, and the reserving of anonymity for private occasions. More to the point is the signaling of God's kingdom mentioned before--the "pilgrim witness" which per-meates the entire personality of the consecrated religious. In the rhythmic, interpenetrating flow of action between the human and the divine in all Christian lives, the lay-man publishes and protects the human. But it is the consecrated religious who points to the divine, and who must give this sign the highest visibility. In days gone by, such visibility was carefully prescribed by rules which governed all aspects of religious life, in-cluding prayer, dress, and general decorum. Today it is a matter of individual responsibility, and each religious must seek ways to radiate God in his own life, and by his own style--a difficult project, indeed, with the old guide-lines gone, and none very clear or precise to take their place. No wonder there have been dark moments of con-fusion, insecurity, and doubts. And the worst may be yet to come as religious-in-transition continue to probe and test their inspirations. During all their struggles, however, we laymen want religious to trust and draw strength from our loyalty and devotion, and from our great confidence that religious will solve their problems and, in their own proper way, continue to mature in Christ. But, most importantly, on every occasion of solicited or unsolicited criticism from us post-Council laymen, we want religious to understand and believe how humanly and eschatalogically, but uniquely, we need them! REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 186 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY, O.P. Toward an American Theology of Contemplation Introduction In* the process of renewal of religious life in the United States no question is more polarizing than the role of "contemplation" in religious life today. Some-how Americans have always had difficulty about this question. At the time of the confused "Americanism" controversy in the 1880's, among other errors supposed to be prevalent in the American Church Leo XIII con-demned the emphasis on the active rather khan the con-templative life.1 In a recent history of the Dominican fathers in the United States, The American Dominicans, Father Reginald Coffey has made very clear how the attempt to transplant the Dominican ideal of "contem-plata aliis tradere" ran into astonishing difficulties which have never been resolved after 170 years of earnest effort.2 What is true of the Dominicans. can be paralleled in most of the other" religious orders who came to this coun-try. We cannot ignore this experience, nor assume that the difficulty has arisen because we just have not tried hard enough. Perhaps the reason is that we have been trying to do the impossible and have not had the intellectual courage to think the whole matter through to a better and more practical solution. We have tried to import into American culture a mode of the awareness of God * This article is based on a talk originally given to a meeting of the Dominican Education Association in Atlantic City, April 2 1970. 1See T. T. McAvoy, C.S.C., The American Heresy in Roman Catholicism, 1895-1900 (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 196~). ~Reginald Coffey, O.P., The American Dominicans (New York: St. Martin de Porres Guild, 141 East 65th St., 1968). 4- Benedict Ashley, O.P., is a member of the Institute of Religion and Hu-man Development; Texas Medical Cen-ter; Houston, Texas 77025. VOLUME 30, 1971 187 B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 188 which arose in European culture and which can be achieved in our culture only with strain and artificiality. After all, God reveals Himself to men in the way that He chooses; and He ordinarily chooses a mode of revela-tion suited to their concrete experience and style of life. If contemplation is to be vital for us it must arise from a contact with God present in our world, not in the world of the 13th century, nor the 17th nor the 19th, nor in an artificial world created by a romantic love of the past. Just as we realize there is something decadent in building Gothic churches as if God could only be found in a particular style of architecture, so it is deca-dent to seek a form of prayer in a style of life that is only artificially re-created. We need to study our own culture and see whether in its system of values there is room for an authentic contemplative life. Pragmatism The United States of America as a people began with a theological conception of its mission. Our most influ-ential founders saw this country as a promised land, "the land of opportunity" in which God had given mankind a new chance to realize the kingdom of God, freed from the traditional compromises which the Church had made in Europe with tyrannical monarchies.3 This conception of mission was reenforced by the ac-tual experience of the pioneers in possessing the land, then of American government and business in applying scientific methods of organization and technology to the control of the environment and to the mass education and human development of the people. These experiences have given us a particular under-standing of what truth is. Our most dominant philosophy under thinkers like James, Peirce, and Dewey expresses this idea of truth as.pragmatic or instrumental. Some have understood this philosophy to mean that truth is valuable only as a practical instrument. A study of Dewey will show that this is a misunderstanding. Americans do not limit truth to the role of a mere tool of action, but what they say is that unless truth is effective, unless it leads to change, to growth, to progress, to the liberation of man, it cannot be genuine truth. It follows that the traditional Greek idea of "contem-plation" is very hard for an American to grasp. What do you contemplate? If it is the world or ourselves, then to know the world and ourselves is to see something that ~On the concept of an American theology see the symposium Projections: Shaping an American Theology [or the Future, ed. by Thomas F. O'Meara, O.P. (Garden City: Doubleday, 1970); and Herbert Richardson, Towards an American Theology (New York, 1967). needs to be improved and freed from its restrictions. If you say we contemplate God, then the American says: "Why should I look at God from a distance? If I really engage God as a person, then we must do something to-gether. Surely God is not idl~. To be with God is to engage with Him in His work, and His work is with His world and the people who are His people. We can understand working with someone, we can understand playing with someone, but just looking at some one. !" Tradition Americans experience the past as something foreign (Europe, Mexico, the Far East). As such it fascinates us, and the world is filled with American archaeologists and anthropologists and historical researchers digging into the past and the primitive. But the value, of the past for us is that it tells us "how far we have come" and encourages us to change even more. It does not set for us a norm or a stamp of approval on what we are now doing. In fact, we are inclined to be uneasy if we realize that we are still doing what men found useful in the past. If it was useful then, surely it can be only a hindrance now when we live in such a different age. When we do admire something traditional it is precisely b~cause it is still a success. We marvel that its originators could have been so foresighted, but there must be experiential proof that it still works. From this point of view a young American religious can admire the founder of his order for being so "mod-ern" in the sense that for his times he was forward-look-ing. But the reason, above all, that our vocations are few and that so many younger people leave is that it appears to them that the religious orders are not preparing for the future. To speak to persons of this mentality about the "nnchanging essentials" of religious life. and its time-tested means of silence, cloister, Office, and study that have produced so many saints in the past, is precisely to confirm their greatest fear that their order lives in the past. A young Dominican I know once said: "Our Order is no longer the Order of Trutk, since if it possessed the Truth it would be changing to meet the future. Truth is the capacity to change for the future." Thus, if contemplation is a call to withdraw into the silence of the cloister, to spend much of the day in the chapel at Office or in the library studying the documents of the past in order to occasionally preach a sermon or deliver a lecture, it is not easy to see how this fidelity to the "tried and true" methods of tradition is anything but a "cop-out" from problems of the present. It is worse than taking drugs, because the use of drugs is turning people on to new experiences, while the old monastic ÷ ÷ ÷ Contemplation VOLUME 30~ 1971 189 B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS methods seem in actual fact to close people up in stale routines. Prophecy There is a kind of divine truth which the American mind can appreciate, the truth of prophecy. Authentic prophecy, in Biblical terms, is an interpretation and criticism of the present, which also has the effective power to produce the future. It is a call to man to act in co-operation with God, and it announces the doom of him who hesitate~. It is a pragmatic truth in the deepest sense. Writers on contemplation generally emphasize that it is a receptivity or openness to transcendent reality. With-out this receptivity human activity becomes feverish, shallow, and ineffective. I think Americans respond with real understanding to this concept of openness. It is no accident that our country has produced in the psychiatrist' Carl Rogers a remarkable exponent of the "art of listen-ing" who has shown that the basis of all human life is the capacity to be really open to the communication of another person, a communication deeper than mere words.4 But notice the great difference between the American idea of openness and receptivity and that of the monastic tradition as we have ordinarily tried to live it. To be open in the American sense one has to be in the midst of the world and of persons, in the situations where peo-ple are interacting and where God is bringing people together. The monastery seems ideally designed to close people off from one another, and hence to God. What the American tends to see in the monastic tradi-tion is essentially a dualism. There is a dualism of the body and the mind, of matter and spirit, of the world and the cloister, the secular and the sacred, the active and the contemplative. What he protests against is not the mind, the spirit, the cloister, the sacred, or contem-plation, but a tradition which seems to force us to di-chotomize these and to prefer one to the other, or even to make one the basis of the other. The American be-lieves that there must be a contemplative, receptive ele-ment in communication but it is part of a rhythm of action and reception, of interaction. It makes no sense, therefore, to argue that "we contemplate in order to give to others." The giving and receiving are joined in a single activity. We are learning about reality as we act to change it or to communicate with it. *Carl R. Rogers, On Becoming a Person (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1961), Chapter 1: "This Is Me." Criticism I think I have said enough to show why the.terms in which traditional books discuss the problem of contem-plation make little sense to young Americans and, I would think, to young Europeans also, because in this the American style of thought has taken a lead throughout the world. It is not true, however, that Americans accept this pragmatic attitude without criticism. To see the need of prophecy as a criticism of our times entails also an attitude of self-criticism. In this the American fondness for depth-psychology, "group dynamics," and "sensitivity training" is characteristic. Americans are seeking a pecu-liar mode of asceticism which involves an exposure of hidden motives to the scrutiny of others. The American is haunted by the fear that he cannot change, that he cannot grow because of fixations, because of blindness and illusion. He is anxious, therefore, to uncover in himself the obstacles to growth. At the present Americans are engaged in-deep self-criticism. We realize that in one sense and paradoxically we are the most conservative country in the developed World. The rapidity of change in the United States has driven the "silent majority" of our people into a defen-sive position. The silent majority (if it is that) iti our religious convents is only a reflection of that frightened conservatism which pervades the whole of American so-ciety. This has produced an atmosphere which is near panic and despair. Americans are deeply frightened that at this moment when we feel so desperately the need to meet the future we will be unable to do so, that we are already locked int6 structures (which we ourselves built) and which we cannot dismantle rapidly enough. The racial problem or the poverty problem in the United States is typical. All of us, even the most conservative really admit that racial discrimination and poverty must go; but we are afraid that the strains of accomplishing this will be more [han we as a society can undertake in a short time, and that tomorrow it will be too late. This self-criticism is, therefore, terribly urgent for the American, and it must be radical. It cannot simply be a matter ~f "adaptation," nor can it be a matter of changing the "accidentals" and retaining the "essentials." We do not think in those terms. What we need, we think, is a new model. It may retain many features of the old, but it must constitute somehow a new response to the future. This entails the serious consideration of whether we should retain the traditional forms of religious life or whether it is necessary to begin new ones. This does not entail, please, notice, that Americans ÷ ÷ ÷ Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 191 ÷ + ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a priori want new and American forms of religious life. Our pragmatism is deeper than that. We are perfectly ready to keep the existing orders if they are el~ective, but not otherwise. Inherent in this self-criticism is also the growing reali-zation that American culture is itself quite sick, and that one of its deep sicknesses is activism. Throughout Amer-ican culture in the most unlikely places there is a strong reaction against pragmatism cbnceived as a religion of success and material productivity. These are seen as de-humanizing, as reducing man to a servant of the ma-chine, of things. Thus American pragmatism is taking a new and purified form. It is still a conviction that truth must be effective, but the effect sought is not material; it is rather to be judged in terms of "the quality of life," a widened and deepened experience, a more intimate communication with other persons, a freer realization of man's creative potential. Experimentalism The outcome of this is that young Americans are looking hopefully to pluralism and experimentalism. Theologically this is understood by many young Catho-olics as the liberating work of the Holy Spirit who dis-tributes His diverse gifts to individuals and groups. In religious life this means a diversity of "life-styles" and apostolates. The danger here, of course, is that the unity of a religious community will be completely disrupted. Sociologists are among the first to warn us that the weak-ening structures and symbols of group unity may render a community completely dysfunctional. However, the advocates of this pluralism and experi-mentalism join it with an insistence on communica-tion, evaluation, feed-back: They do not propose a proc-ess of splintering, but rather a rhythm of changing life in which forms are developed through an interchange of experiences and ideas, and then constantly revised in view of ongoing experience and new ideas. In such a conception it becomes hopeless to talk about "essentials" and "adaptations," and the discussion rather takes the form of talking about "the enrichment of values." The Basic Question Perhaps nothing is more crucial in "this question than the diagnosis which each side makes of the "signs of our times." A recent writer on the renewal of religious life, while conceding many pgsitive aspects to the present sit-uation, singles out as our deepest sickness our secularism, and "insensitivity to the transcendent." ~ This means that for him God is primarily the transcendent, and that He is to be found, therefore, by the various monastic tech-niques by which a man turns away from the noise of the world to the silence beyond the world. This, however, is the very point in question. Is God to be known primarily as "the transcendent?" He may have revealed himself in the monastic period" of the Church primarily in that way, and through the practices of silent and cloistered meditation. But is this the way that He has willed to reveal Himself today? After all, to accept an historical view of revelation as most theologians do today, also entails the conviction that God reveals Him-self to men historically in a way specific to the time. Our problem becomes, therefore, to search for God to-day where He reveals Himself and according to the man-ner in which He, as Lord of History, dictates, not ac-cording to some tradition, however venerable. Our younger people have the conviction that somehow this point of revelation is precisely in the secular, in the pov-erty and the need of our world. This need felt by the world is not an explicit religious need. Rather it is a simple human need of justice, of love, and of peace, but it is authentic need, and that is why God is to be found there. After all Jesus Himself said: "I was poor, hungry, ¯ naked, and in prison, and you did not visit me." ¯ Receptivity Are we then to lose ourselves in meeting the social problems of our time? Is there not a real danger that tak-ing the form of our life from the apostolate we will simply become humanitarian activists? We already see many who are leaving religious life to engage themselves as lay persons in the problems of the world and who in a short time seem to have lost all prophetic sense and simply to have succumbed to the dead routine of com-mercial society. How then can we develop a sincere re-ceptivity to the word of God? It appears incredible to our younger people that this is to be achieved by a return to "conventual life" in its monastic form. Nothing in their experience points this way. Nor do they see in us older religious very convincing proofs that this type of life has in fact made us receptive to what God is doing today. Rather they see that the conservative advocates of regular observance were and are closed to the work of the spirit which has manifested itself in Vatican II in a manner whose authenticity cannot be mistaken. ~Valentine Walgrave, O.P., Do~ninican Self-Appraisal in the Light of the Council (Chicago: Priory, 1968), pp. 112-20. ÷ ÷ + Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 193 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The first step, therefore, to a renewal of genuine re-ceptivity to the Spirit, to authentic contemplation, is an awakened sensitivity to the world's needs, to the 15resente of Jesus in the poor, the suffering, and the despairing. There is, however, a danger that concern for social ills will become a mere "cause," an abstract party ideology little concerned with real people, as Marxism has be-come. To be Christian this concern for the poor and re-ceptivity to their needs must be brought close to home and must become a receptivity to the persons in our daily lives. Hence, we cannot achieve a renewal of the contemplative spirit unless we begin with an increased sensitivity to the human needs of those around us, an openness to dialogue, a freedom of communication. This ability to hear others and to respond to them is hindered by our own lack of self-understanding, which al-lows barriers of communication to grow within us. In the past these walls against others have actually been reenforced by the conventual observances so that nnder the guise of seeking to be more receptive to God we have closed ourselves off to our neighbors. The parable of the Good Samaritan summarizes the tragic fact that religious purity can be an excuse for "passing by on the other side." This growth in self-understanding can, of course, lead to self-centeredness, just as the practice of meditation and examination of conscience sometimes did. The remedy for this excessive subjectivity is study. Books cannot sub-stitute for experience, but experience in interpersonal re-lations does not necessarily produce deeper insight unless it is accompanied by study. If we are to be prophetic men and women we must make use of all the knowledge ¯ ~hich modern science furnishes to help us understand man and his condition; and we must push this explora-tion to its philosophical and theological depths. Perhaps our greatest danger at the moment is to settle for a psy-chological view of man which is positivistic in character and which does not push behind positivist assumptions to the basic problems of human existence. When we speak of study, however, it cannot be a study of texts. In America today, more and more the advance of learning is pulling itself free from the printed page and is becoming a matter of the laboratory, the clinic, the symposium, the workshop. A group of men and women, therefore, who are to be a community of study today will not look like a monastic library or scriptorium; but it will be in constant contact with the gathering of empirical data and the debating of theoretical hypotheses. Because in our times a prophet must also be deeply involved in professional life, he can become overly cere-bral, a human computer. He must fight free of getting trapped in the narrow world of scientic and technological rationalism. If religious life is to foster a prophetic open-ness to reality, it must not reduce our energies to the lim-its of efficient work and productive routine. The esthetic, creative, and spiritual components of human personality must be awakened and developed. The dualism which infected Christian asceticism in the past often led to an atmosphere in which we became closed to all reality which threatened the arousal of our emotions. A certain type of Thomism closed us up in a tight world of defini-tions and classifications that excluded much of God's world of beauty, mystery, and experiential insight. If we are to be open to the prophetic Spirit we must make place in our lives for genuine celebration, the praise of God in His world. The Divine Office originated in such a spirit of praise, but that does not mean that it is today a genuine celebration. Nor are we sure that it can be. In any case we have the obligation to find a way to celebrate our community life in God if we are to be a prophetic community. American life today in a country that possesses half of the world's wealth is clear proof that our riches, which could be the solution to world poverty, are the chief cause of our apathy to poverty. This is true also of our search for security in sex and family, in personal au-tonomy and professional competence. We cannot criti-cize this idolatrous American search for security if our conventual life is itself aimed at security. Thank God, we are becoming insecure! Our decline in vocations is forcing us to liquidate our property and to face a doubt-ful future. We are frightened by the decline in apprecia-tion for celibacy. Is not this the payment for our lack of poverty? If we have a genuine eschatological sense of the urgency of the world's problems--if we were expect-ing to go to jail soon for our share in the revolution-- then celibacy would become very logical. This is true also of obedience. Obedience makes-sense when it is a response to a leadership ready to risk all. American Monasticism Does all this mean that there is no place in American culture for monks or nuns devoted to the contemplative life without an exterior apostolate? The life of Thomas Merton was a sign for us that such a conclusion would be too hasty.0 Americans dislike the ancient dualism be-tween contemplation and action, but they do understand the principle of specialization. If contemplation as a ~ Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (New. York: Herder and Herder, 1969). 4- 4- + Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 195 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 196 value is to be vigorous in American life it must have its specialists. We look to such specialists of contemplation, however, for a pragmatic demonstration that is convincing to our times. Merton provided such a test by showing that his life in the hermitage had made him more sensitive to the problems and opportunities of our times than most of us in active life. If the cloister is to draw young Americans, it should not offer them a retreat from the world, but a place to confront the issues of our time in an intense encounter where every illusion is stripped away. Most of us see our times through the TV screen carefully in-terlaced with commercials whose message is middle-class complacency. If we are to have cloisters, they must be places in which contemplatives look reality square in the face. Far from destroying the monastic tradition this would be a return to its original inspiration which, according to Father Bouyer, was not to escape the world and its evils but to confront them in the desert of unflinching truth, like Jesus "who was led into the desert by the Spirit to be tried by the devil." 7 This requires a rethinking of the traditional monastic means of silence, choral prayer, discipline, and the clois-ter so as to make these truly effective means to a profound self-knowledge, a knowledge of ourselves not cut off from the world, but as responsible for it. It means too that the insight achieved must be shared with others by modes of communication that are effective in our society, and it is here that the deep American interest in com-munications verbal and non-verbal must come into play. The Active Religious Communities Those religious communities dedicated to an active exterior apostolate, if they are to root that apostolate in the authentic receptivity of spirit required to hear the word of God calling to us from crisis situations, need to get to work on the following objectives: 1. Our first objective must be to locate and operate our communities in situations where we will be forced to confront the problems of our time. We must seek a form of life which does not permit us to protect our-selves by false securities from the urgency of the situa-tions which make a prophetic witness a constant demand upon us. Our obedience, chastity, and poverty must be-come functional because they are necessary for us in our r Louis Bouyer, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers (New York: Descl~e, 1963), especially Chapter 13: "The Origins of Monasticism," pp. 300-3. state of emergency. Our security must be in faith and hope in God alone. 2. Our next objective should be to support each other in this common emergency through a community life that is based on a spirit of openness, receptivity/and di-alogue. A pluralism of life styles and points of view must be combined with a vigorous effort for greater unity .through experiment and dialogue. We must encourage the emergence of leadership, and we must foster the gifts of the Spirit in each member of the community. 3. We must break through the current tendency to faddism and a superficial copying of the techniques of scientific positivism to a deeper, prophetic understanding of man and his problems in the light of the Gospel. This demands that our communities be places of research and study where people of different experiences and compe-tencies can meet to raise penetrating questions and en-gage in mutual criticism of opinions. 4. In order to achieve this openness and to be able to meet the conflict involved in the clash of opinions and tendencies we must in our communities seek a profound purification of the spirit. We should not neglect the techniques provided by modern psychology'and sociology to help us overcome immature and prejudiced modes of thinking, feeling, and acting. Beyond this we must by a disciplined simplicity of life and by personal and com-munity prayer open the way to the action of God's grace. 5. We must find the courage for this renewal in a spirit of celebration of the presence of God in the world and in our community through liturgical prayer and through a genuine enjoyment of friendship in the com-munity and with those we serve. The Eucharist and the praise of God must become for us the fundamental life styIe which unites us in a pluralism of expression and activities. Some will ask: When in all this complex of activities will we come face to face with God, alone and in silence? Can there be genuine contemplation without this naked confrontation? There cannot be. But it is God Himself who calls us to face Him. If He does not call, then we cannot find Him. Therefore, the beginning of our contemplative re-newal must be to answer Him where and when He calls ÷ to us. It seems that today in the United States God is ÷ calling us not in a silent cloister, which is hardly to be + found, but in the situations of fear and doubt, in the desert of alienation, and at the gates of hope where Jesus stands side by side with suffering men and women. We must meet Him there with faith. It is my belief that a religious community which takes this step will be Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 197 more truly obedient, chaste, poor, charitable, studious, prayerful, receptive of God's word, and urgently driven to bring God's word to others in their need, than a com-munity which applies itself to some illusion of con-ventual observance. What then is my conclusion? Our American experience shows a great need today of a prophetic mission which will enable men to find God at work in the critical situations of our society. No doubt there is also need of men and women who so feel the urgency of this pro-phetic task, that they are willing to put aside economic, family, and individual securities, to work as a commu-- nity to help the larger community of the Church per-form this task better. Such a community cannot fulfill its prophetic mission unless it is deeply engaged in the world's problems, but it cannot be content to meet these problems superficially. It must penetrate them to the deepest level where God reveals Himself. This implies a search for God in our life together in tl~e world made ever more profound by study, dialogue, discipline, prayer, suffering, and celebration. ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. AshleT, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 198 BERNARD VERKAMP Cultic Purity and the Law,of Celibacy The situation as a whole of the early Church, Jean Paul Audet has noted, was one of tremendous simpli-fication. 1 With this simplification came a general flexi-bility, which also found expression in the early structures of the Christian priesthood. Both in the service of the gospel and the ecclesia, the early Christians broke out of the fixed patterns of a sacral priesthood, and freely adopted whatever structures most suited their work." Thus, to come to the subject of our present concern, while some chose to leave their wives or husbands, others, the majority, continued to pursue their mission out of the context of a married and home life.s What is most sig-nificant, however, is that neither one nor the other style of life was thought to be, in itself, incompatible with service. Both were viable options. And such was to re-main the case throughout the first centuries of Christi-anity. In the year 305, however, nineteen bishops from differ-ent parts of Spain gathered at the Synod of Elvira and issued along with various other very stringent measures,4 the following canon touching upon the marital status of the clergy: Placuit in totum prohibere episcopis, presbyteris et diaconi-bus vel omnibus clericis positis in ministerio abstinere se a 1 j. p. Audet, Structures of Christian Priesthood, New York, 1968, p. 80. "~ Ibid., p. 79. ~ Ibid., p. 41. ~ Canon 13 states that a virgiu consecrated to God and committing a carnal sin could receive communion only at the end of her life and after perpetual penance. Bishops, priests, and deacons detected in fornication were, according to Canon 18, to be denied communion for the rest of their lives. And, according to Canon 71, pederasts were not to be admitted to communion even on their deathbeds (Hefele-Leclerq, Histoire des Conciles, Paris, 1907, 1.1, pp. 212-264). ÷ ÷ ÷ Father Bernard Verkamp, a doc-toral candidate in the St. Louis Uni-versity Divinity School, lives at 3658 West Pine Boulevard; St. Louis, Mo. 63108. VOLUME 30, 1971 199 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkamp REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS '~00 conjugibus suis et non generare filios: quicumque vero [ecerit, ab honore clericatus exterminetur? While stating exactly the opposite, the synod appar-ently meant to forbid bishops, priests, and deacons from continuing sexual relations with their wives.~ Nothing is said about separation of the clerics from their wives; only that they may not relate sexually. There is no ques-tion here of the synod desiring to render the clergy more available for apostolic service. Rather is the prohibition clearly motivated by a concern for cultic purity. This conclusion is further supported by,the phrasing of the canon: ".vel omnibus clericis positis in ministerio." Were this phrase disjunctive, it might have been in-tended only to extend the prohibition to yet another class of clergy, namely, subdeacons. But, in all likelihood,; it is meant to be explicative--with "vel" meaning "id est" --so that the canon must read: "It pleases us to forbid absolutely bishops, priests, and deacons, that is, all clerics engaged in the service of the altarS., from relating sex-ually to their wives and having children." Combining as it does such a variety of elements, it is difficult to say exactly when and by whom this notion of cultic purity was first ushered into Christianity.° But "Canon 1, Hefele-Leclerq, pp. 238-239. " Literally, the canon forbids bishops, priests, and deacons to abstain from intercourse and not to have children. Such a prohibi-tion might have made sense some eighty years later in Spain when the Priscillian brand of Manichaeism was rampant, but not in the Spain of 305. The rigorist tone of all the other canons of this synod would suggest too that the synod did mean the exact opposite of what it actually declared. This conclusion is further supported by the fact that one of the prime agitators for legislation against clerical marriage at the Council of Nicea in 325 was the Spanish bishop Hosius (Hefele-Leclerq, p. 621). 7 See Martin Boelens, Die Klerikerehe in der Gesetzgebung der Kirche, Paderborn, 1968, p~ 39. s p. Harkx, The Fathers on Celibacy, Des Peres, 1968, p. 16, takes "positis in ministerio" to mean "appointed to orifice." But Audet, Structures, p. 13, notes that in the Christian Latin of the period, when referring to pastoral service, the ministerium was generally seen as a sacrum ministerium, that is, as a service of the altar. ~Certainly its introduction was aided to some extent by the disparagement of sex which, despite the Church's rejection of the encratic sects spawned by Gnosticism, began, as early as Athenagoras, to gain ground within Christian circles; see Athenagoras, Supplicatio pro Christi 33, PG 6, 965-967; Minutius Felix, Octavius 31, PL 3, 335-338; Tertullian, Ad Uxorem I, 3, PL 1, 1277-1279; Clement of Alexandria, Christ the Educator 11, "Fathers of the Church," v. 23, New York, 1954, pp. 169f; Sextus, Sentences 230-233, ed. H. Chad-wick, Cambridge, 1959, p. 39. The trend toward sacralization received a major stimulus from Cyprian in the 3rd century; see Letters 1 and 67, "Fathers of the Church," v. 51, Washington, 1964, pp. 3-5 and 232. From Cyprian onward the Old Testament example of the Aaronic priesthood and its laws of periodic continency (Lev 22:3; Lev 15:18; Ex 19:15; 1 Sam 21:5) were appealed to more and more frequently as a model for the Christian priesthood. once introduced, it quickly established itself and became during the next fifteen hundred years the predominant rationale behind the legislation of clerical c6ntinency.1° For more than two hundred years after Elvira, all the legislation regarding the marital status of the clergy in the Western Church11 was solely directed toward pro-hibiting sexual intercourse between the higher clergy and their wives. Not until the Synod of Gerona in 517 did the Spanish bishops require separation. And in other coun-tries such legislation came still later. This fact, in itself, would suggest that throughout those two hundred years clerical continency was motivated almost solely by a con-cern for cultic purity. What other evidence is available supports that conclusion. Outside of Elvira, there was almost no legislation re-garding clerical marriage in the Western Church during the first seventy years of the 4th century.12 But in the 1°This is not, of course, to imply any judgment about the rationale for the chastity of religious men or women during the same period. Our present concern is only with the legislation of clerical celibacy. For a discussion of celibacy in a broader context, J. M. Ford's, ,4 Trilogy on Wisdom and Celibacy, Notre Dame, 1967, is especially good. A recently published work by Roger Gryson, Les origines du cdlibat eccldsiastique du premier au septi~me siecle, Paris, 1970, may also prove helpful. 11 In the East, legislation in this regard took a somewhat different course. At the Synod of Ancyra in 314, it was ruled in canon 10 that any deacon declaring his intention to marry at the time of his appointment might marry even after his ordination and continue in his ministry (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.I, pp. 312-313). Without such a prior declaration, however, he could not subsequently marry and still hope to exercise his office. Thus Ancyra already contained at least the germ of the practice eventually adopted by the Eastern Church at Trullo in 692, namely, marriage before but not after ordination. But for all these differences, the legislation in the East was really no less motivated by a desire for cultic purity than in the West, as we shall subsequently see in our discussion of the Synod of Trullo. That the notion of cultic purity was already prevalent in the East in the first half of the fourth century was exemplified by Eusebius of Caesarea when he wrote: "Verumtamen cos, qui sacrati sint, atque in Dei ministerio cultuque occupati, con-tinere deinceps seipsos a commercio uxoris decet" (Demonstrationis evangelicae I, IX, PG 22, 82). Likewise, the Synod of Laodicea, in 350, passed a number of measures which can only be understood within the context of cultic purity. Canon 21 decrees that sub-deacons shall not touch the sacred vessels; canon 44 bars women from approaching near the altar; according to canon 19 only clerics shall be permitted to approach the altar of sacrifice (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.2, pp. 1010-'20). On the other hand, however, the Synod of Gangra in 345 sought to check the sectarian thrust of Eustathian asceticism by excommunicating anyone maintaining that when a married priest offers the sacrifice, no one should take part in the service; see canon 4, Hefele-Leclerq, p. 1034. ~2 p. Harkx, The Fathers on Celibacy, p. 17, states that the Synod of Aries (314) reiterated the decrees of Elvira. But, the six appended canons, upon which Harkx bases his conclusion, do not really belong to this synod, but must be ascribed rather to a decretal of Pope + + + Celibacy VOLOME ~0~ 1971 201 last quarter of that century, Popes Damasus I (366-384) and Siricius (384-399) were both very active in initiating a program of clerical continency. Several synods were held at Rome some time around 370, which, while indi-cating a preference for clerical candidates who were not married, nevertheless allowed that someone baptized as an adult and already married might also be ordained, as-suming that he had remained chaste and was a man of one wife ("unius uxoris vir").13 In a letter to the bishops of Gaul, Damasus relayed this and other decisions of the Roman synods along with a discttssion of the reasons for clerical continency.14 A variety of reasons are proffered,1~ but the central argument builds upon the notion of cultic purity.16 The very first synod held at Rome (384) under Pope Siricius, declared in its 9th canon that, because of their daily administration of the sacraments, priests and dea-cons should not have intercourse with their wives.17 In ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkarnls REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 202 Siricius: "Weil der Wortlaut dieses Kanons mit den cc. 4 trod 5 aus dem Brief des Papstes Siricius an die afrikanischen Bish6fe fast wortlich iibereinstimmt und wahrscheinlich von dort iibernommen worden ist" (Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, p. 28). The Council o[ Nicea (325) forbids any cleric to mutilate himself (c.1) and also prohibits the higher clergy from having the so-called "virgines subintroductae" in their houses (c.3). But its canons say nothing about clerical con-tinency (see Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.1, pp. 528-620). Apparently, some of the Council fathers had hoped to require continency of the clergy, but thanks to the saintly Egyptian bishop, Paphnutius, this move was checked. E. Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy under Fire, London, 1967, p. 26, cites Mansi 2, 670, in support of his claim that the Council of Nicea forbade marriage after reception of higher orders "according to an ancient tradition of the church." But the canons of Nicea say no such thing. The only possible support for Schillebeeckx's claim might be the statement of Paphnutius that "it would be sufficient, according to the ancient tradition of the Church, if those who had taken holy orders without being married were prohibited from marrying afterwards" (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.1, p. 620). an H. Bruns, Canones Apostolorum et conciliorum veterum selecti, Turin, 1959, v. 2, pp. 277f. a~ Ibid. (The text is also presented in PL 13, 1181-96.) ~'~ The authority of Scripture and the fathers; a good example to the widows and virgins, and so forth: ibid. ~"Denique illi qui in templo sacrificia offerebant, ut mundi essent toto anno in templo solo observationis ~nerito permanebant, domos suas penitus nescientes. Certe idolatrae, ut impietates exerceant et daemonibus immolent, imperant sibi continentiam muliebrem et ab secis quoque se purgari volunt, et me interrogas si sacerdos dei vivi spiritualia oblaturus sacrificia purgatus perpetuo debeat esse, an totus in carrie carnis curare debeat facere?" (ibid). x~"Suademus quod sacerdotes et levitae cum uxoribus suis non coeant, quia in ministerio ministri quotidianis necessitatibus occu-pantur., si ergo laicis abstinentia imperatur, ut possint deprecantes audiri, quanto magis sacerdos utique omni ~nomento paratus esse debet, munditiae puritate securus, ne aut sacrificium offerat, aut baptizare cogatur." The canons of this synod have come down to us through the letter of Siricius to the bishops of Africa, which in the following year, Siricius repeats this injunction in a letter to the Spanish bishop Himerus of Tarragona and further embellishes it with the cultic purity rationale. Those priests who have continued to beget children are wrong, he says, when they appeal to the example of the Old Testament priests. These latter were permitted to have children only because the law demanded that only descendants of Levi be admitted to the service of God. Such is no longer the case. Furthermore, the Old Testa-ment priests were strictly enjoined to have no sexual relations with their wives during the time of their service, so that they might present to God an acceptable offering. Priests, therefore, who want their daily sacrifices to be pleasing to God must remain continually chaste,is The 5th century follows a similar pattern. Sexual intercourse is forbidden between higher clergy (deacons, priests, bishops) and their wives.10 But their separation is not required:°0 Why no intercourse? "Because at any moment," the Synod of Tours proclaimed in 460, "they may be summoned to the discharge of a sacred func-tion." 21 Canon 2 of the same synod notes that while those who break this rule need not be deposed from their office,2-0 they shall no longer be eligible to a higher grade and shall not be permitted to offer the holy sacrifice or to assist as deacons.23 To strengthen such an arrangement between the clergy and their wives, a number of synods began during this turn was read at the African Synod of Telepte in 418, whence the present text. See Bruns, op. cit. I, p. 154. It is to this canon that the 6th spurious canon of the Synod of Aries (314) probably owes its origin; supra, footnote 11. ~ See Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, pp. 43-44. Arguments such as this were echoed repeatedly in ihe writings of Ambrose and Jerome who during this period were combating the "errors" of Jovinian and Vigilantius. 19See canon 1, Synod of Toledo (400), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.1, p. 123; canon 8, Synod of Turin (c. 400), ibid., p. 134; canons 23 and 24, Synod of Orange (441), ibid., p. 446; canon 2, Synod of Arles (443), ibid., p. 462. Pope Leo I in 446 included subdeacons under the rule; see PL 54, 672-3. ~0 Pope Leo I wrote that from the ti.me of ordination, the higher clergy must convert a carnal union into a spiritual one: "They must, though not sending away their wives, have them as though not having them" (PL 54, 1204). It will be recalled that during this same period the Church expressed itself as vehemently opposed to any "spiritual relations" between the clergy and the virgines subintro-ductae. .ol Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.2, p. 899. The cultic purity rationale was also expressed during this century by Pope Innocent I (see Audet, Str~*ctures, p. 89) and by the Synod of Telepte (418) which, as we have noted earlier, took over the Letter of Siricius and its canons regarding clerical continency; see Bruns, Canones, v. l, p. 154. -°:As other synods had suggested, for example, c. 4, Synod of Carthage (401), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.1, p. 127. .-a. Ibid., v. 2.2, p. 899. + + + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 203 + + 4. B. Verkamp REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 204 period to require a vow of chastity prior to ordination. Thus we read in canon 22 of the Synod of Hippo (393) that when lectors have attained the age of puberty, they mnst either marry or make a vow of continence.-04 Later, in 441, a synod at Orange declared that "married men shall not henceforth be ordained deacons unless they have previously vowed chasity." "~ The same decree was repeated at the Synod of Arles in 443.-06 Whatever else these vows came to connote in a later period,-07 there can be little doubt that in their original conception, they were meant simply to support the cultic purity arrange-merit. The next major step in legislation regarding clerical continency came with the rule that the clergy and their wives must separate. Here again the initiative came from Spain. In 517, a synod at Gerona ruled that all ordained married men, from subdeacons to bishops, must cease liv-ing with their wives. If they will not do that, they must at least have living with them someone else who might witness to their conduct."s The last part of this decree suggests something of the motivation underlying the rule of separation stated in the first part. The higher clergy were to separate from their wives, not because they would thereby become more available for Church service, but rather to remove them from suspicion of being less pure than was required of anyone serving at the altar. In other words, the rule of separation was simply a strengthening of the earlier no-interconrse legislation. This becomes even clearer as we trace the development of the law of separation in France during the fith century. Some of the first French synods of this century simply reiterated the EIvira legislation and sought to enforce it by strict penalties. Thus in 535, the Synod of Clermont declared that if anyone is ordained deacon or priest, he must not continne marital interconrse. He becomes a brother of his wife. Those who, inflamed by desire, have "cast off the girdle of the warfare," and have returned to their previous condition,"9 must be deprived of their clerical dignity.:~0 A few years later, however, we see the _o~ Ibid., v. 2.1, p. 87. -"~ Canon 22, ibid., p. 445. ,-,a Canon 2, ibid., p. 462. '-'~ See Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy, p. 60t". ="De conversatione vitae a pontifice usque ad subdiaconum post suscepti honoris oflicium, si qui ex conjugatis fuerint ordinati, ut sine testimonio alterius fratris non utantur auxilio: cure sorore jam ex conjuge facta non habitent; quod si habitare voluerint, alterius [ratris utantur auxilio, cujus testimonio vita eorum debeat clarior apparere" (Bruns, Canones, v. 2, p. 19). See also c. 5, Synod of Toledo (589), ibid., v. 1, p. 214. ._~a,,.abjecto militiae cingulo vomitum pristinum et inhibita rursus conjugia repetiisse." ibid., v. 2, p. 190. ao Canon 13, ibid. start of an attempt to remove the cleric from suspicion, which would climax in a rule like that of Gerona (517). In 541, the Synod of Orleans ruled that bishops, priests, and deacons must not have the same chamber and the same bed with their wives, so that they not be brought into suspicion of carnal intercourse,a~ A synod at Tours in 567 went several steps further, and declared that wherever the bishop resides he must be surrounded with clergy,a" And lest the clergy who serve him come into contact with the maidservants of the bishop's wife, the bishop and his wife shonld have separate abodes,a:~ Sim-ilar rules are laid down for the priests, deacons, and sub-deacons. As very many rural archpriests, deacons, and subdeacons rest under suspicion, of continuing inter-course with their wives, canon 19 states tbat the arch-priest must always have a cleric with him, who accom-panies bim.everywhere and has his bed with him in the same cell;a4 tbe remaining priests, deacons and subdea-cons are warned to take care that their female slaves shall always live where their wives do, while they themselves dwell and pray in their cells alone,a~ A priest who lives with his wife, canon 19 concludes, must not be rever-enced by the people, but disapproved of, because he is a teacher, not of continence, but of vice.a~ In 578, the Synod of Anxerre reiterated the earlier decree of Orleans (541) to the effect that no priest, dea-con, or subdeacon was to sleep in the same bed with his wife after ordination,av In 581, the Synod of Mficon added yet another measure: No woman may enter a bishop's chamber unless two priests or deacons are pres-ent? s Finally, in 583, the Synod of Lyon expressly de-manded that priests and deacons not only have separate beds from their wives but that they also cease all daily contact with them.~9 "t Canon 17, ibid., p. 204. .a~ Canon 12, ibid., p. 227. :~ Ibid. ~' But no priest or monk mlJst sleep in the same bed with an-other, in order to avoid every evil suspicion; ibid., p. 228. a.~ Canon 19, ibid., pp. 229-230. ~ Ibid., p. 230. ar Canon 20, ibid., p. 239. ~ Canon 3, ibid., p. 243. a~ Canon 1, ibid., p. 247: "Placuit etiam, ut si quicuniqne u~oribus juncti ad diaconatus aut presbytcratus ordinem quoquo modo pervenerint, non solum lecto sed etiam frcquentatione quotidiana debeant de nxoribus suis sequcstrari." Outside of Spain and France, the law of separation was only much later enacted. Pope Gregory the Great (590-604) expressly rejected the idea of making those already married leave their wives after ordination unless they had promised continency prior to ordination (Letter 44, PL 77, 505-6). The first Roman synod to require separation was probably that of 743 (See canon 1; Hefele- Leclerq, v. 3.2, p. 851). In the East, the Synod of Trullo (692) rnled + + + Celibacy VOLUME ~0, ~971 205 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkam~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 206 It is hard, therefore, to escape the impression that, as stated above, the separation of clergy from their wives was anything other than yet another facet of the same concern for cultic purity which underlay the earlier pro-hibition of sexual interconrse. This impression is further enhanced by the fact that French synods of the same pe-riod were passing a variety of measures which could only quicken the process of sacralization. The synod at Tours in 567 declared, for example, that at Masses, as well as at Vigils, the laity are not allowed to stand among the clergy near the altar on which the holy mysteries are solemnized.4° According to the Synod of Orleans (533), no woman must henceforth be given the benedictio dia-conalis. 41 Nor may a woman receive the holy Eucharist with uncovered hand,42 or touch the pall.4,~ Clerics are not to wear secular garments.44 The next six centuries saw no basic change in ec-clesiastical legislation touching upon the clergy's sexual conduct or marital status. The myriad decrees issued during these centuries either simply reiterate previous legislation or attempt to strengthen the same with more stringent penalties or some other positive measures, or, finally, seek to deal with complications arising out of the earlier laws. Some repeated the earlier demands for a vow of chastity prior to ordination.4~ Others encourage({ the adoption of a vita communis by the clergy.46 While none that if a married priest is consecrated bishop, his wife must go into a convent at a considerable distance (canon 48, Hefele-Leclerq, v. 3.1, p. 569). The motivation behind this measure was no less grounded in a concern for cultic purity than were similar measures in the West. Canon 13 of Trullo states that at the time when they must celebrate divine services, subdeacons, deacons, and priests are obliged to refrain from their wives since it has already been ordained that be who ministers in sacred things must be pure (ibid., v. 3.1, p. 565). The bishops must abstain completely because, unlike the priests and deacons, theirs is a fulltime service of the altar. ~o Canon 4, Bruns, Canones, v. 2, p. 226. ~t Canon 18, ibid., p. 187. ~-" Canon 36, Synod of Auxerre (578), ibid., p. 241. ~ Canon 37, ibid. "Canon 5, Synod of Mficon (581), ibid., p. 243. ~ Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy, p. 60, cites the Fourth Council of Toledo (633) in this regard. But the "professio castitatis" to which canon 27 of that Council refers concerns a vow made after ordina-tion by those about to take up a rural pastorate (Bruns, Canones, v. 1, p. 231), and not, as Schillebeeckx says, a vow prior to ordination. This would suggest, as Boelens has noted (Die Klerikerehe, p. 100), that the conversio prior to ordination required by the Synod of Toledo in 527 had fallen out of practice. Vows prior to ordination were, however, required by the following synods: Worms (868); Bourges (1031); Limoges (1031); London (1102). ~ One of the first to advocate systematically the vita communis was Chrodegang of Metz (d. 766); see Bihlmeyer-Tiichle, Church History, Westminster, 1963, v. 2, p. 108). Synods at Canterbury (969), Rome (1059), Rome (1063), and Winchester (1076) encourage the idea. showed any concern for the care of the clergyman's wife and children after separation, a number dictated what was to happen to these latter if they did not separate from the cleric. Both the wives and the children were made subject to being sold or taken into slavery.47 The clergymen themselves were generally threatened with dep-osition in the event of disobedience; but when this had little effect, the legislators moved to forbid the laity from attending the Masses of such clerics.48 This "separation from the altar" of the incontinent cleric was extended by Gregory VII in 1079 to exclude the cleric from entrance into the church, so that he could not even take a passive part in divine worship.49 The notion of cultic purity, which we contend was operative within all this legislation, was not always given explicit expression.~° Gregory VII (1073-1085) himself, who climaxed the period under discussion, most fre-quently appealed only to the need for obedience to papal authority.~1 But his untiring efforts to separate the in-continent clergy from the service of .the altar, and oc-casional utterances to the effect that God can only be 57 Concerning wives, see canon 5, Synod of Toledo (653), Brtms, Canones, v. 1, p. 280; Synod of Rome (1049), Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, p. 135. Regarding children, see canon 10, Synod of Toledo (655), Bruns, Canones, v. 1, p. 295; Synod of Pavia (1022), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 4.2, p. 920. The inability of the children of clergymen to inherit Church goods had long before been established by the Code of Justinian (529), and by Pope Pelagius (556-561). The synods of Toledo (655) and Pavia (1022) reasserted the same. Pope Gregory VII especially showed himself callous as regards the clergyman's dependents. Boelens writes: "Tatsache abet war doch, (lass die meisten verheiratet waren und (lass sic Frau und Kinder hatten, fi_ir die sie zu sorgen batten. Wie sich die gregorianische Reform fiir sic auswirkte, wurde in den Gesetzcn hie erwahnt. Man vcrffigte nicht, was mit Frau und Kindern gcscbchcn sollten; nut immer wicder das Eine: 'crimen fornicationis' oder 'morbus fornica-tionis clericorum' oder bloss cinfach 'fornicatio' muss strong bestraft werden" (Die Klerikerehe, p. 147). ~8See Synods of Rome 0059), Rome (1063), Gerona (1068), Rome (1074), Poitiers (1078), Piacenza (1095), London (1102). Gregory VII also turned to the laity for support when some German bishops refused to cooperate with his refo

Issue 4.4 of the Review for Religious, 1945. ; " GRACE AND ~BEAUTY~--G'. AuguStine Ellard, S.J" . 217 ENEMIES OF FAITHmF. X. McMenamy, S.J . " . 229 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE Walter J.On.g, S.J. y : . ~'230 ¯ WHY DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? Gerald Kelly, S.J. Bo~JKs RECEIVED . , . .~252~ PERFECTION IS UNION WI*FH,GOD .~Aug, ustine .Klaas,. S.J. ., 253, PAMPHLET NOTICES ,:~ . .-. . OUR LADY;S PARENTS Francis L. Filas, S.J .~ . .OUR' CONTRIBUTORg / . ' ~ . ~ ~- 270 QUEST~IO,N~ AND ANSWERS~. , 35. Blessed Ashes and Things Put in Sacrar~um- " (.' 271° ~ 36. Jurisdiction o~Mother Generiil and ,Local~Superior . ~7. Bo~y of Deceased Sister in Community Chapel . 38. Permission to Close Religious House . . . . . : . 272 ~ 39.~ Rosaries of String for fi.rmed Forces Only. .° . . ,: . . .o .~273 ~40.~Vows and Status of Reliigious.with Mental Disorder .-. '2_.73) ,41. Anticipating Date of Perpetual Vows .- . : .' .-'. , 275 42. ,Su.pterior's Obligation t6 Pro¢ide Monthly Conference COMMUNICATIONS ' ' ~ " ~77 ' ~BOOK 'REVIEWS~ :7 ' ~A'Dynamic World Order; That You May Live: Too S~nall a Wo-rld: The Hope of the.Har4es~; The Nu'rse:. Handmaid of the DivineoPhysi-." _ ¢ian;.Enjoying the NeW Testament . ~: . . . ' 28.2 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1945. Vol.IV, No. "4. Publishdd-bi- 'monthly: January, March.May, July,S¢ptemb,er, ahd N0ve~ber at the College Press. 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St.'Mary's College, St., Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical appr.obation.' Entered as second clas~ matter January 15 1942'; at the Post Office, Topeka,,~Kansas, "under the act bf March 3, 1879: ' "~ Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis. S.J., G~ ~ugustine Ellard, oS.J., Gerald Keily~ S.J. Editorial Secretary;: Alfred F, Schneider, S~J.2 Copyright, 1945, by'Adam C. Ellis. .Permission is hereby granted'for quotations of, reasonable length, provided due credit be given this r~view an'd the autt~'b~. Subscription pride: 2 dollars a ~'ear. ~ ~ Pilnted in U: S. A. Before writing to'us, please consult notice on Inside fiack cover. G. Augustine Ellard, S.,J. AN EFFECT of sanctifying grace that does not seem to get as much mention and consideration as it deserves is the beauty that it possesses .and adds to the soul. And yet beauty, with truth and goodness, is the object of the principal aspirations of every spirit. Moreover, beauty is an important element,in the value of grace. A clearer .knowledge of the beauty of grace should lead to a highe~ appreciation of it and a more eager desire for it. I. One could hardly hope in the present stage of the evolution of esthetic.philosophy to propose a for.mal defini-tion of beauty that would be generally acceptable. For-tunately, it is one of those things of which nearly every-body feels that he has a fairly satisfactory empirical notion, even though he could not set it forth in words. Among the definitions of beauty current among those who have studied the matter in the light of Aristotellan br Thomistic philosophy .we find : "the spl~ndor of truth" (attributed to Plato); "the splendor of order" (St. Augustine); "the effulgence of form in material elements definiti~ly limited and proportioned, ok in different forces or actions" (S~. Thomas); "the goodness of a thing inasmuch as when known .by the mind it gives delight" (Kleiltgen, [3ung-mann); and "the perfettion of a thing that makes it pleasing to behold" (Gietmann). Some would place beauty in truth, others in the goodness of a thing, arid still others in both truth and goodness together . Even when it ¯ is embodied in material objects, the perception of it i~ essentia!ly spiritual: animals give no evidence of,having a sense of the beautiful. 217 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Reoietu for~ Religidus Beauty may be either physical or moral. !V~oral beauty is found only:iiri th~ character or moral activity of persons; when one's characte,.r or action,i~ such that the very sight or thought of it ~tit~S delight and admiration, then it is morally.beautiful. Many insta.n.ces of heroism are examples :of it." All 6thOr beauty is physical. This may be material o~ sigiritual. About the material 'ther~ will be rio difficulty, and about the spiritual there need be none. It is simply that beauty which belongs to spirits, as material beauty belongs to visible things. To see and appreciate it properly is poss!ble, of course, only to ~pi~its themselves; but wecan have an analogous knowledge and enjoyment of it. It is very evident that angels must perceive one another and that that perception, of itself, must bring pleasure, in fact, great ¯ pleasure, betause prest~mably the beauty of angels is pro-poi: tionate to. their general ~perfection. Therefore one (good) angel viewing another and finding him pleasant to behold would be ~xperiencing What is meant by physical ~spiritual beauty. 'The angels now in heaven possess, as a matter of fact over and above the beauty that follows their angelic nature, the supernatural beauty of grace. Being g.ood, they exhibit also, of course, moral beauty. Simi-larly, human souls or spirits now i'n heaven and adorned with grace give pleasure to all who see them, both by reason of the natural perfection .and beauty of the. human spirit and because of the love!iness of their grace. It is well to¯note that to please ordelight, the. beautiful need not actfially be seen. It is sufficient that it can be seen, or hgs" been°seen, or can be ~epresented in quasi.-vision before the mind, A young man 'enjoys his belov.ed's beaut~, even when she isabsent: A living human soul in graOe is an object of actuAland full complacence to ~whoever sees it;. therefore c~rtainly to God, most probably to one's guardian angel, and perhaps to all the blessed. In heaven its beauty 218 duly, 1945 GRACE AND BEAUTY will add to the joys of all the angels and saints. Meanwhile there can be great satisfaction in really bein~l beautiful, though that beauty be all hidden.within, and in expecting the future manifestation of it. II. Other works:of God are beautiful; therefore, grace. is beautiful. In view of the extension.of beautyih God's works and the intensity of it in His greater creatures; this argu, ment from induction or analogy, seems to be legitimate. "The firmament on high is his beauty, the beauty of heaven with its glorious shew . The glory of the stars is the beauty-of heaven; the Lord enlighteneth the world on high . Look upon the rainbow and bless him that made it: it is very beautiful in its brightness." (Ecclesiasticus 13 : 1, 10, 12.) If the Supreme Artist has produced beauty so widely, and so profusely throughout His creationm -in natural scenery, inthe forms of crytallization, in flowers, in birds, in the human form and face, and in the angelic nature--it is not likely that He l'ias d~nied a high degree of it to wha.t is in a very true sense one of the greatest of all His productio.ns, namely, sanctifying grace. III. A consideration of the nature of grace confirms the conclusion indicated by induction or analogy. Sanctifying grace is essentially a participation in the divine nature, .that is, in what is in God the fundamental principle of the activity that i~s most characteristic of Him, namely, the direct intuition of infinite truth. Now God Himself must be supremely beautiful. He is the first author of all that is beautiful in His universe, in inanimate scenery, in the stars of the heavens, in the vegetative k.ingdom,. in animals, in men and women, and in the angels. "Let them [men] observing the works of the Creator know how' much the Lord of .them is more beautiful than they: for the first author, of beauty made all tho~e things . For by the greatness of the beauty, and of the creatures, the Creator of 219 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Review fo~'" Religious them may be seen, so as to be known thereby." (Wisdom 13: 3, "5.) Moreoverall the beauties of human art are ultimately.His creations. As a matter of fact God is not only the origin of all beauty; He is Beauty Itself, absolute, infinite, ineffable beauty, without the slightest admixture of anything that could detract from it. That beauty must be infinite, because the~being, truth, and goodness upon which it is founded are immeasurable. Though all perfec-tions are there, they are unified in the highest degree in abso-lute simplicity, and thus they. exist in the most admirable harmony. God is Hisown uialimited light, brightness, and brilliance. Long ago St. Augustine wrote of the beauty of God: "Consider the whole universe; the,heavens, the earth, the sea, all that is in heaveh or on earth or in the sea: how beau-tiful, how marvelous, how well and wisely arranged it al! is! Do these things move.you? Of course.they move you. Why? Because they are.beautiful. What then of Him. who made them? You would be stunned, I tt'iink, if you saw the beauty of the angels. What therefore of the Creator of tt~e Angels?" ($erm. 19, n.5: ML. 38, 136.) And St. Basil the Great: "Is there anything, I ask, more wonderful than the divine beauty? . .What thought is.there more delightful and pleasant than the magnifice ,rice of God? ¯. Altogether ineffable and indescribable is the brilliance of the divine beauty. Speech cannot make it known, nor ear receive it. Even though you should, think of the splendors of the morning star, the brightness of .the moon, or the light of the sun, everything beside the glory of that beauty. is insignificant and dark, and compared with the true light .is more distant from it than the depth of a gloomy and moonless night from the clearest noonday sun." (Reg. Fus. Tract.; Inteccog. 2, n. 1; MG. 31, 910.) Comprehensively to knox~T the magnitude and fascina£ 220 tibn of Beauty Itself and the enrapturing~effect ofbeholding it is pos~ibl'e only to one of the Bli~ssed Trinity. To.have some proper conception of itand how it feels subjectivdly to. see it is: possible only to those who have experienced the beatific vision, and even they c~uld not express itin human lariguage. Surely it is most significant that, giventhe pres-ent superna~u'ral order oi~ things, nothing on earth or in heaven except the .sight of God can quite satisfy, and quiet the' aspirations of the human spirit. But the sight of infinite truth, goodhess, and beauty is sufficient to beatify even the. divine spirit. Even though the beauty of God must remain concealed from us while we are burdened with the veils of mortality, it is so great that for some contemplatives it can ¯ become a source of the most exquisite delight and ecstasy and a most potent stimulus to di~'ine love. ~, Now sanctifying grace, being a participation oi: the divine nature~ and hence of the divine beauty,' must itself be correspondingly beautiful. Or, in other terms, grace is an assimilation to the divine nature and a resemblarice to it, and must slSar'e in its beauty as a'copy partakes of the excel-lence of a masterpiece. With the sonship to God which grace confer~ it must also brihg something of the paternal lineaments and features. -_,~ St. Cyril of ~Alexandria, speaking of the effect 6f grace, wrote: ".Is it not the Spirit thi~t carves the divine image upon us and like a seal imprints upon us a beauty su.perior to any in the world?" (Dial. 7 De Trin., p. 683.) .Again: "All of us who have :believed and become c6nforrned to God have been made, through union with the Son and the Holy Spirit, paiticipants of.thee divine nature, not only in name but in very reality in as much as we have been glori-fied with a beauty that is above all creation. For Christ is fashioned in us.in a manner that is indescribable, not as one 6feature in another, but as God in created nature in.that He 221 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Revieu~ for Religious has transformed our created nature through the Holy Spi.rit into His likeness and raised us to a dignity surpassing that. of all creatures." (De Trin. L. 4.) "The Spirit does not, like a painter, reproduce the divine substance in us as if He were extraneous to it, nor does He in .this way bring us to the likeness of God: rather He Himself who is God and pro-ceeds from God is .invisibly impressed upon the hearts of those wh6 receive Him like a seal upon wax, through com-munion and likeness to Himself, again painting our nature with the beauty of its original model and manifesting the divine image in man." (Tfiesaur., MG. 75, 609:) St. Basil: "Man was made according to the image and likeness of God, but sin destroyed the beauty of that image ¯. Let us return to the original grace from which we were ~alienated by sin. And let us beautify ourselves in the like-ness of God." (Serroo Ascet., MG., 31, 869.) Similarly St. Ambrose: "You have been painted there-fore, O man, and painted by the Lord thy God, You have a good artist and painter; do not. spoil the good painting, resplendent, not with color, but with the truth; expressed not~ with wax, but with grace," (Hex. VI, 47.) And St. Augustine: "Human nattire, When it is justified by its Creato~r, is changed from ugliness and deformii:y into a lovely and beautiful form" (De Trin. XV, c. 8, n. 14). IV, Grace also gives one a share in the beauty of Christ. Among the three divine persons of the Blessed Trinity .bea'uty is appropriatedparticularly to the Word, as "being the flashing-forth of" the Father's "glory, and the very .expression of his being" (Hebrews 1:3)i, or, in Knox's yersion, "who is the radianc~ of his Father's splendour, and the full expression of his being~" Even the created beauty of the humanity of Christ, natural and supernatural, physical and¯ moral, material andspiritual, is very great indeed and an object of the keenest delight to all the angels 222 Jul~, 1945 GRACE ,~NI~ BEAUTY and saints who see it. The Church in her liturgy often proclaims that .beauty: "Thou art beautiful above the sons of men: grace is poured abroad in thy lips . With thy comeliness and thy beauty set out, proceed p~osperously, and reign." (Psalm 44:3-.5.) Commenting on this passage St. Augustine. wrote: ',He is beautiful as God, the Word with the Father; He is beautiful i~ the womb .of the Virgin, where He assumed human_ity and did not lose His divinity.; He is beautiful as .a new-born babe and silent Word (infar~s Verbum) . Beautiful therefore in heaven, beautiful~ on on the earth; . beautiful .in His miracle~, beautiful in the scourging; beautiful while callii~g to life,~ and beautiful in not caring about death; beautiful as He lays down His life,.and beautiful in taking it back: beautiful on t.he. cross, beautiful in the sepulcher, beautiful in heaven . Let not, the imperfections of this body turn your eyes away from the splendor of His beauty. (In Psalm. 44, 3.) Clement of Alexandria thus extolls the.attractiveness of Christ: "Our Savior surpasses all human nature. Indeed He is so beautiful that ' He ' alone deserves to be loved b31 us, if we desire true beauty; for He was the truelight." (St~r,om. L. 2, c. 5.) ' . ~ All who receive sanctifying, grace are adorned after the model of Ch~:ist: "For all Of you who were bapt.i~zed into Christ, have pu~ on Christ" (Gala.tinny3:27):1 "My children witt~ whom I am again in tra.~ai.l,~ until Christ be formed in you" (Ibid. 4: 19) : "Those Whom he hath fore-known, them he hath predestined to bear a nature in the ima~ge of his Son's, that he should be first-born among many brethren" (Romans 8:i9). The Fathers of the Church like to emphasize the 1New Testament texts quoted in this article are from the Westminster Edition. 223 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD Retffeu~ for Religious ?esemblance even in appearance between Christ and Chris-tians., Thus St. Cyril.of Alexandria writes: "Nor should we be sons by. adopti.on and inlikeness if there were no real and true son; to His form we are fashioned; to beilike Him we are transformed with a certain art and grace" (Tbesaur. MG., 75, 526). "One is molded to become a son of God according to an excellent model . This beauty is spiritual. ~ By participation in the Holy Spirit they ar~ fashioned in Christ as it were, according to Him as a model . Christ is indeed formed in us, the Holy Spirit impres.sing upon us a certain figurel ~hrough holi-ness and jusgice." (In Isaiarn; IV, II; MG.; 70, 936.) Sim!larly St. Gregory'Nazianzene writes: "Since the day -when y'ou were changed by baptism, all your old features have disappeared, .and one.f°rm l~as been imlSressed upon you all, namely, that of Christ" (Or. 40 In Sancta Lurn., n. 27). V. According to the analysis of the beautiful made by St. Thomas., and followed by many Catholik savants, there are three chief elements that concur to make a thing ¯ beautiful;- integrity, harmony, and brightness. Evidently integrity or completeness, in all parts is neces~'.~y. A person who has lost, say, an arm or a leg would ~:i~ly be a candidate for a beauty prize, nor could a buil'd~.~bf w.,,.hich some integral part has been destroyed exemplify architec~,ural beauty. It is deaf too that .har-mony, taken.in~;. ,,a~.~bgr,~o a,_d sense so as to include symmetry, proportion,, oraer, aria in general proper agreement, is required. All the different components that enter into the constitution of a thing ~bat has beauty~for instance, a cathedral~must have appr6priate size, mutually sui~ one ~nother, be suitably arranged, and all in all so fit together into one.coherent whole as really to mak~ a unit and con-vey .a unified impressioia. Order in some sense is so essential 224 dul~t,.1945 . GRACE AND BEAUTY to beauty that disorder and ugliness are almost synony-mous. = It may be noticed in passing that the name "cos-mos" for the uni~rerse as an ordered system of ,things and th~ term "cosmetics," the art of improving ,:feminine beauty, both come from the same old Greek word for "order." ¯ There is an order that we may call static; it is illus-trated, ¯ for example, in the disposition of an artistically planned pai'b]ti.ng 0r building. Dynamic order is found wherever different movements or actions are subordinated to one purpose: for instance, in the.mecbanlsm of an auto-mobile or in the multitudinous movements of an orches-tra. Order is in a peculiar sense the offspring of intelli-gence; and wherever it is found'and in.whatever degree, it gives satisfaction to the mind that p~rceives it. Though variety is said' to please, no great degree of it is necessary if there be sufficient'richness of content,' as, for example, in the finest silks or velvets, similarly certain single colors and tones, if they be sufficiently pure,, rich, and clear, seem t9 be beautiful. '~The e~y,,e admireth at the beauty of the whiteness thereof tsnow] (Ecclesiasticus 43:20). ~. , The third elen~ent required for the beautiful °is,!bright-heSS. Perfection of being, which is otherwise ~ibl~ to delight one who simply considers it, can hardl,y rfiake much of an impression on one who does not se~ it iclearly. Relat.ively to us, therefore, at least, a ~certain clari~ty of presentation is necessary. J,udged by these three criteria., namely, integrity, har-mony, and brightness;.grace has a right to be called beau-tiful. That it possesses integrity, or in other words that it has all that pertains to its perfection, may be inferred from its spirituality, and also from the fact that it is a creation of the .Divine Artist exclusively. He could not leave one. of 'the highest and noblest of His works incomplete nor 225 G, AUGUSTINE ELLARD Review for Religious inferior in appearance. There is an admirable harmony or order about sanc-tifying grace. To begin with, it sets a person in just the right essential_supernatural' relatiori to God, and thus, :at ~least indirectly, with respect to all other persons and things. Grace is alsoa prindple of order within a man himself inasmuch as it is a source 0f supernatural moral, order and propriety, and hence of .beauty, in all his con-duct. Moreover sanctifyin~ gr.ace'possesses order within itself in the sense that it brings with itself and keeps in proportion all the infused moral virtues and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. All these taken together constitute the supernatural organism, the anatomical basis, so to speak, of the supernatural life, and this organism must have a proportion and symmetry and harmony equal to its gen-. eral excellence. Being spiritual, it must be superior to whatever is material; being of itself immortal and incor- ~uptible,,its beauty should be corr.espondingly great and lovely. Not only this, but since it is supernatural, its attractiveness should be higher 'and better than merely natural spiritual beauty. Oftentimes one of the principal sources of,the satisfaction found in the esthetic contempla-fion of works of beauty is the perception df how the artist has really reached or approached the ideal which was evidently before his mind. In grace, Which is a super-natural likeness of the divinity_---in fact the highest pos-sible likeness of it---~.the in'tended correspondence between the model or ideal and the real must be perfe.ct and com-plete since God Himself is the artist who ~produces it. That grace possesses brightness and adds. a certain light to the soul that it adorns is.abundantly evident from the fact that in all the literature on grace, whether ancient or modern,, light is one of the analogues most commonly used to explain it. Thus the Catechism of the Council of Trent 226 dul~t, 1945 GRACE AND BEAUTY says that grace is "a certain splendor and light, which blots out all.the stains of our souls and makes thos~ souls them- . selves more beautiful and splendid'.' (Or: Balatisrn, 50). Grace, therefore, has its own spir.itual and supernatural ¯ integrity, harm.ony, and brightness, and as such is beautiful or fair to behold. ¯ VI. Beauty as ~an effect of grace was a favorite theme with St. ¯Bonaventure. He liked to conceive grace as making one a sort of spouse of God. Hence it was natural for St, Bonaventure to emphasize the adornment that grace confers and that high and special kind of beauty' which becomes a spouse of God. It makes one so attrac-tive and lovely in the sight of God that one become.s a fit object of divine complacence. "The .king shall greatly desire thy beauty: for he is the Lord thy God, and him they shall adore" (Psalm 44:12). "How beautiful art thou, and how comely, my dearest, in delights" (Canticle of Canticles 7: 6). VII. Among the lekser eventual effects of grace will be the resurrection and the beauty of the glorified body. "Then 'shall the just.shine forth a.s the sun' in the king-dom of their Father" (Matthew 13:43). "The Lord 3esus 'Christ. will tr~lnsform the body of our lowliness, that it may be one with the body of his glory, by the force of that power whereby he is able tb subject all things to himself" (Philippians 3:21). The physical beauty of the glorified body will be yer~ great indeed, even in the case of those in whom it will be least, for instance, in the bodies of b~ptized infants who entered paradise with the lowest measure of grace, or in those sinners or converts who barely squeezed in fit the last moment. "There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies; but the glory of the heavenly is different from that of the earthly'" (I Corinthians 15:40). Oftentimes, 227 G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD 'R~vieu~ [or Religious if not too often, mortal human beauty is enough to enchant and transport men.It is the product of a merely natural process or of the cosmetician's art. Immortal human beauty Will be the creation of the Infinite Artist Himself and such' as befits the final and crowning state of His uni~rerse. The human beauty that we see here is o. nly.too evanescent; celeso tial~ human beauty will be eternal,, forever adding to the delight of all who behold it. Human beauty in this life is granted indiscriminately to the good, bad, and.indifferent. with the advantage rather in favor of the indifferent or bad. -at least because they are more gi.ven to cultivating it. Glorio fled b~au~y is~ reserved for God's. own elect and favorites. Beaut.y here .issuch as becomes this vale of tears; beauty there must be great enough to harmonize with the mag-nificence of the ~elestial mansions and theexcellence of the" persons who form the celestial society. The least beautiful glorified body should be at the minimum, it would seem, incomparably more.lovely than the. most beautiful body not yet glorified. .'What then of the most beautiful men and women in heaven? The personal physical beauty, not only the spiritual, but particularly now that of the glorified bodies of the ~lect, will, like the beatific vision itself, be proportion~ate to~ ~the. amount of grace with which they entered heaven. "There is the ~!ory o~ the sun, and the glory of the moon, and the'glory of the star~; for star differeth from star in glo,ry. And so it is with the resurrection of the dead."" (I Corinthians. 15: 41, 42.) "In the final state such will be the subjection'of t.hebody to the soul that even the quality of the body will. follow the excelience of the mind: whence according to the different degrees of merit, one soul will be more Worthy than another and one body more glorious, than another" (St. Thomas, In II Dist. 21, q. 2, a. 1). VIII. The practical conclusion from all these consid-. 228 GRACE AND BE/~UTY erations is that one who desires to possess the optimum quality and the maximum quantity of beauty, natural and supernatural, physical and moral, spiritual, and b6dily, who wishes to let the greatest number of the best persons enjoy.it, and who would retain all that beauty for the !onges.t time, should devote oneself to accumulating the highest possible measure ofsanctifying grace. Moreover, the more grace one has, the keener will be one's Vision and fruition of the infinite beaugy of God Himself and of all the finite beauty, whether in persons or things, in heaven and throughout the whole universe, and that eternally. ENEMIES OF FAITH The enemies of faith are tw, o and .they are closely related to each othe, r, sin and worldliness, All sin but especially habits of sin obscure spiritual v~sion: make it hard for the mind to see God's full truth. Sin is a thing of darkness, and it loves the darkness to hide its sham~. Worldliness, however, is perhaps the greater enemy of a living faith because more common, more plausible, more insidious seeing that its manifestations are not'always obviously sinful. Worldliness is!a cast of mind and a habit of will that ignore divine adoption: the blight of a naturalism that vitiates one's appraisals, one's likes and dislikes, all of one's habits of life as though one.~were not a son of God. Gradu-ally but surely does it extinguiih the ligl-it bf th~ new knowledge to end in darkness and sin "and disrelish for prayer and the beautiful realities of God.--F. X. MCMENAMY, S.J., in Alter Christus. 229 ' Walter J. Ong, S.J.- MANY religious, sensing beneath the writings of John Henry,Cardinal Newman a character sympathetic to their way of 1if,e, must have asked thdmselves: Why did Newman not become a religious? In this centenary year of his conversion, many will recall that for some time after Newman was received into the Church'on October 9, 1845~ heithought seriously about the religious life as a vocation for himself and for others of the group of Anglicans who came into the Church with him. ~ In a .sense, he finally' decided both for and against the religious state. A year and ~ half after his conversion, he chos,e, in the life devised by St, Philip Neri for his Ora-torians, a place for himself half-way between that of the religious and~that of the diocesan priest. For members of an Oratory of St. Philip Neri are priests, and assisting lay brothers, who live under obedience in a ~ommunity. Never-theless, they are not religious, for they live thus without public vows. The Oratorian community, compared to a religious community,.ii thus very !oosely knit. Each mem-ber in great part provides for his own material needs out of his own resources, and each is free to leave should he wish to do so. Why. did. Newman settle upon this kind of life? Appeal of Religious Life? Was it because the religious life did not at all. appeal ,to him? Some might suspect this. Indeed, owith all the "230 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE writing there is about Newman', it would not .be surprising if ~omeone who likes to spade around in the subconscious has turned up a theory that Newman did not become a religious because the re.ligious life demanded too much self-abnegation. Perhaps someone has. Int~res.ting and even amusing texts could be quoted to support the theory. Let us quote a few. Reactions to Religious Observance? In 1846, the year after their conversion, and before their ordination to the priesthood, .Newman and his fellow-convert Ambrose St. John were to go to Rome, where they hoped to mature some definite plans for their future activity in the Church. At Rome they.would s.tay at the Co.llegio di Propaganda, a seminary conducted by theRoman Con-gregation of the Propagation of-the Faith. In this.semi-nary,, or. college, studies were made by many of tbose destined for the priesthood in missionary countries, among which countries England, like America, was classed ~at the time. From a former stud_ent. 'at the Collegio, a Dr. Ferguson, Newman had wormed out an advance description of the life there.'His letter to St. John reporting wh~t Dr. Ferguson b, ad to say s.bows interesting reactions to matters touching the religious life: Every quarter of an hour has its work and is measured-out by rule. It i~ a Jesuit retreat continued through the year. You get .up at half past five, having slept (by compulsion) seven and a half hours, at quarter to six you run into the:passage and kneel down for the Angelus. Then you finish your dressing. At six you begin to meditate--the prefect going up' and down and seeing you are at your work. Three mihutes off the 1half hour a bell rings for the col-loquium. At the half hour (hal'f past six) mass--which every ond attends in surplice. Seven breakfast, some bread and some milk and (I think) coffee. Then follow schools--at half past e1~ven dinner and so on. A dompulsory walk for.an hour and a half in the course 231 Reoieto for Religious of the day.x Newman calls' attention to some details closely related to common life: Recreation an hour after dinner and supper--but all recreate together ~--no private confabs. In like manner no .one must enter any other .person's room. (Corollary. It is no good two'friends going to Propaganda.) . Further, your letters are all opened, and you put the letters you. write into the Rector's hand. To continue--you must not have any." pocket money . "Then there is no good," I asked, '"in taking money." "No," said Dr. F., "none at all." Next, you may not have clothes.of your own--the RectOr takes away coat, trousers, shirts, stockings, ~c. ~c. and gives you some of the Propaganda's. Although the Collegio was run to train not religious but diocesan priests, the details which Newman here singles out for comment includ~ many which remain more or less a permanent part ~)f the religious life~ From the rueful tone of Newman's letter, one might gather that such details 'are listed because they show where the shoe pinched the most unbeara,bly. Little wonder, one would say, that Newman did not' become a religious. The life plainly did not at all appeal to him.' "They give you two cassocks," he goes on, "an old one and a new one." (Newman's own italics). ' "To complete it, he [Dr. Ferguson] said that I should be kept there three years and that I shouid have to read Per- .rone." Reading Perrone seems to have been ~ associated 'iri Dr. Ferguson's mind only with.feelings of the greatest ter-. ror. Perrone, well-known Italian theologian, Was laterto be Newman's friend and champion. But now Newman passes over Perrone's name without comment, having asso- Ciated with the name nothing but the iinister overtones of xWilfrid Ward, The Life of John Henry Cardinal Netoroan (New York: Longmans, Green and Co., 1913), I, 132. All quotations from this work are with the kind permission of. the publishers. . 232 , Ju1~,1945 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE Dr. Ferguson's woeful recollections. "Meanwhile . . . we heard that at Rome . . . 'apart:. ments' have been'got ready at Propaganda for Dr. Wiseman and' me." Newman must have shuddered as he~ wrote "apartments": at least he put~ the word in quotes. "The only allowanc~ I extracted from Dr. Ferguson," be continues, "was that you might bare private papers in your writing desk . Dr. F. said one thing was provided gratis--snuff ad libitum and I should be allowed to take a snuffbox." In the event, Newman was not subjected to the rules here described for the young seminarians. According .to our projected theory, this should pro.re that he had no stomach for any life restrained by strict rule. His.sub-conscious repugnance to restraint asserted itself here, and be somehow automatically edged his way around even temporary regular observance--this enterprising theory would hold. Other evidence could be scraped up. ofit of " Newman's letters to give body to such proof. For instance, shortly after his conversion he writes of a visit just paid to the Catholic college at Oscott:. ChaHes Woodmason and I . . . arrived here on the fe.Xstival of St. Cecilia . We found the passage crowded and no servants to answer the bell, and bad to poke in as we might, leaving our 1Bggage at the entrance. I say they perhaps were" scandalized, for they have the most absurd notions about us. I think they fancy I never eat, and' I have just lost a good dinner in.consequence. After returning from Birmingham walking and hungry, I literally have had to pick up a crust from the floor left at breakfast and eat it,. from shame at asking again and again for fhings.2 Does this hankering for servants 'and victuals Show the spirit of abnegation which the re!ig~ous life demands? And, the letter gets worse instead of better: 2lbid., I, 103-104. 233 WALTER J. ONG Review for Roligious . Wall, we were ushered into the boys' dining room--the orches-tra at the end, and the table~ plentifully laden,for all hearers with cake and (pro pudor)" punch~a very sensible w.ay of hearing mu.sic. They certainly were scandalized at my d~tecting the pu.nch--for they said again and again that it was made of lemon and sugar. All i~can say is that ours.at the high table was ~emarkably stiff,.and that I was obliged to dilute it to twice or thrice i~s quantity with water. More of this kind of thing ~ould be dug from New-man's correspondence, and one could turn it all to account to explain quite ~eadily Newman's turning away from the religious state. His unconscious self had said from the first, "Don't be a religious,'.' adding with standard subconscious ¯ hypocrisy, "but talk sometimes about the religious life So you'll get the credit for being interested in it." Thus New-man's attraction, to the religious state was sham--the the-ory Would conclude. A good conclusion, if only it 'were true. Such a con-clusion, hoWever, would not be founded on fact, but rather on a wild misinterpretation of some of Newman's pleasant-ries. Indeed, the last passage just quoted hints that people bad associated with Newman, not. mere talk, but definite habits of abstemiousness quite in accord with the little sac-rifices demanded by religious life. Newman's Self-Abnegation. )ks.a matter of fact, Newman had such habit~. An appetite for quite real s~lf-abnega~ion in .imitation of Christ had worked itself out very practically in Newman's lifd even before he entered the Catholic Church. In 1842 he had retired from Oxford to the neighboring town of Littlemore, where he gathered some of his Oxford friends. Here he became a Catholic 'and here he continued to live until February,. 1846. We have an account of the place of retreat at Littlemore in a letter in the Tablet shortly after Newman's conversion written by Father Dominic, the 234 July, 1945 NEWMAN ~AND THE',RELIGIOUS LIFE Italian Passionist who received him into the Church. "Littlemore," Father Dominic explains, is a village about :two or three miles from Oxford. It presents nothing charming in its aspect or situation, but is placed in a low, flat country; it exhibits no delightful vill.as, nor agreeable Woods and meadows, but one u~nvafi~d uniform appeara.nce, rather dull than pleasant. In the midst of this village we meet with a building, which has'more the look of a barn than a dwelling:house; and in reality, I think it formerly was a barn. This unsightly.building is "divided by a number of walls, so as to forni so many little cells: and it is So low that you might almost' touch the roof with'your hand. In the interior );ou will find t.h.e most beautiful specimen of patri-archal simplicity and gospel i~overky.8 The Italian was iensitive to the vagaries of the English weather and impressed by the sombrene.ss ofEngland's dark, damp days. Failure to take measures against such conditions was to him a sign of real mortification: To pass from one cell to another, you must go through a little out-side corridor, covered iladeed with tiles, but opeln to all inclemencies of the weather. At the end of this corridor, you find a small dark room,'whi.ch has served as an oratory. The furnishings and diet impressed him most of all. In the cells nothing is to be seen but poverty and simplicity-~bare walls, floors composed' of a few rough bricks, without carpet, a straw bed, one or two chairs, and a few books, this comprises the whole furniture ! !-! The refectory and kitchen are in the same style, all very small and v.ery poor. From this description one may easily guess what sort of diet was used at table: no delicacies, no wine, no .ale.,'no liquors, but seldom meat; all breathing an .air of the strictesk poverty, such I have never witnessed in any religious house in Italy. or France, or in any other.country,where I have been. A C~ipuchin monastery would appear a great palace when compared with Little-more. It is the "best geniuses of the Ang!ican. Church" who. have retired, to this house, Father Dominic goes on, and have lived there--persons "of birth, learning, and pie~ty,. Slbid.o I, 106,107. 235 WAETER 3. ONG Review [or Religiou~ who possessed, or at least might have possessed, the richest livings and fellowships which the Church of England can bestow." And yet it had been said that their living as they had at Littlemore was due to singularity and pride! "Those who entertain such an idea," the good father continues, "might in the same way calumniate our Blessed Saviour; his Apostles, and all the followers of the Gospel." Foroit was plain to any open-eyed observer that the life at Little-more was undertaken in imitation of Christ. The. ho!y and simple Italian priest, as Newman's biographer Wilfrid Ward calls Father Dominic, gets so excited at the blindness and malice of Newman's critics that he breaks into a regular, litany of puns: "O men, O English-men," he almost chants as he concludes his letter to the Tablet, hear the voice of Littlemore. Those wails bear testimony that the Catholic is.a little more than the Protestant Church, the soul a little more than the body, eternity a little more than the present time. Understand well this little more, and I am sure you "will do a little more for your eternal salvation. This is .apparently what made Newman, who was undoubtedly embarrassed by t.he good father's letter, remark that no one at Littlemore could read the letter with a grave face. Bu~ Newman does not contest the facts which Father Dominic had set down. Newman and the English Scbne Littlemore shows in some ways a .greater attraction to a life of self-abnegation and self-surrender than perhaps most religious exhibit before their novitiate. But Little-more provides us as well with the key to Newman's final decision against the religious life. For Littlemore was the place wh~re Newman retired to learn God's will in his regard, and there, were good signs.that the will of God called him elsewhere than to a r.eligious institute. 236 dulyo 1945 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE Had he been at the time of his conversion a young man, Newman might perhaps have entered a religious institute and let his life be shaped there, just as Gerard Manley Hop-kins was to do. Hopkins, an Oxford man like Newman and destined like, Newman to become a great figure in nineteenth-century literature, was converted at the 'age of twenty-two. But Newman. (who incidentally, was to be the one to receive Hopkins into the Chu.rch in 1866) was forty-four when he became a Catholic. He bad already cut himself a niche in English life. He had been the leader of a party which had split open the intellectual .world of Oxford and with it the Anglican Church; and, although the party had finally b~een .badly routed by the liberal Anglicans at the. time it lost many of its ,leaders to Rome, Newman's place in the Oxford movement had made him a marked man in England. And here we have the basic reason why New-man did not turn to. the religious state: he felt that his value to the Church, a value already fixed by his place in Eng-land's life, could not be best exploited the~e: ~ Being Taught God's Wilt .W.riting many years later to young Edmund Froude, who had rather precipitately made up his mind to be a religious, Newman sald, "I know you are a prudent boy, and I wish you gravely and continually to pray God, that you may. be taught His Will as regards you. For we must persevere in prayer, if we would learn it.''~ Newman him-self had had to persevere in prayer-to be taught God's will in his regard and this not only with regard to entering the true Church. For a year and a half after his conversion there was an interval of prayerful searching, as both New-man and his friends, eager to find what place God ,had marked out for them, felt their way about the edifice of' the 4Gordon-Huntington Harper, Cardinal Newman and William Froude, A Correspondence (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press. 1933), p. 169. ¯237 ~rALTE~ ,~. ONG ReOiew [or Reti~iou, s Church,'in which they Were at the same time.very much at home and strangely unconversant with many ordinary thifigs. They were at home because they were indeed in their Father's house, about whichthey, had been reading all their ~lives in the Scriptures and in patristic writings. But, how-ever much at home they felt, the fact was, their Father's house or no, they had never been in it before. Forthis rea-son Newman and Ambrose St. John went frorfi~England to Rome in 1846 to imp.rove their knowledge of the Church from the inside. It is a little amusing to see them cautiously smelling out different theological schools at Ro~e or still indulging in themselves something of the amazement of the benevblent Protestant who has just found thht the Cath-olic clergy are not such a bad lot after all. In this vein, Newman, en route to Rome, writes delight-edly from Langres in France to his friend Frederick Bowles that the French clergy are a merry, simple, affectionate set--some of them quite touchingly, kind and warm-hearted towards me, and only one complaining, as I think he did, of English heaviness (our stomachs were in fault) . M. La~ont is Very cheerful, hnd talks Latin well, which few of "the other clergy.do. The Dean does, and is a kind warmhearted person.5 During this time when he was gaining familiarity with the Church from inside her doors, Newman was in close contact with many religious-TDorninicans, Passionists, Jesuits, Franciscans, and others. He bad a Jesuit confessor at Rome. And Newman was certainly thinking of the various religious institutes in terms Of his usefulness in Christ's cause: "'It i~ ,one especial benefit in the Catholic ~burcb," he writes from Rome to Henry Wilberforc~, that a person's usefulness does not ~lepend on the accident of its .SWard, Life,~ I, 136. 23'8 ,lulg, ~94~ NEV~MAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE being found out. There are so many ready-formed modes of'us~ful-hess, great institutions, and orders with great privileges and means, of operation, that he has but to unite himself to one of them, and it is as if Pope and Cardinals took him.up personhlly.° Newman adds a remark which shows that he was ~hinking of the religious life as a sort of r~fuge from pos-sible ecclesiastical honors: Since, I am in for it, I will add," what (as ~far as Io know) I have. never told to anY0ne--thai, before now; my prayers have been so earnest that I never might" have dignity or station, that, as they have been heard as regar.ds the English Church, I think their will be heard now also. They were~ No honors threatened for m~n)~ weary years; but rather failure and misunderstanding. Special Responsibilities But from the time of his conversion Newman was con-scious tl~at he might have "special responsibilities" which .would not'leave his choice of a State of,life entirely free. He was afraid that these responsibilities might not be discov-ered for him evenin Rome. "I can't tell as yet," he informs . Wilberforce in the same letter, what they will make of me here, or whether they will find me but. It is very difficult to get into the mind of a person like me, especially considering so few speak English . . . and I can say .so little in Italian. Newman and St. John had indeed picked up Italian only in their leisurely journey down through Italy to Rome picked it up not without some disaster, as when, mehning to tell a departing Italian acquaintance in Milan that he hoped to.see him in the winter., St. John blunHered confi~ dently, onto the word inferno for inverno and succeeded only "in leaving the startled Italian with the understanding that the English visitor hoped to see him s6on in hell. Newman was delighted at this occurrence, for St. John Olbid., I, 151. " ¯ 239 WALTER J, ONG Review [or Religious was the greater enthusiast for the language. But when they got to R6me arid Newman could pick his way only rather gingeriy through an Italian ~onversation, he fel'tthat he w~s greatly handicapped in his efforts to find his prope,r place within the Church. Newman wanted information and advice. But "what can people know of me?'" he goes on to Wilberforce, . I don't expect people will know me. The consequence will be, that, instead of returnihg with any special responsibilities upon .me, any special work to do, I Should on my return slink into some re~ady-formed plan of operation, and if I did not become a fi~iar or a Jesuit, I should go on hiamdrumming in some theological seminary or the like. Thus Newman felt that, /:or him; fitting into a ready-made plan might indeed be "'slinking" dodging the "spe-cial responsibility." In accordance with this line of thought, the conviction that he should not join a religious institute finally won out, as it had threatened to do from the first. He writes to Dalgair.ns from Rome on the last day of the year 1846: I have'the greatest fear I am bamboozling nays.elf when'I talk of an order: and that, just as Anglicans talk of being Catholics butdraw back when it comes to the pgint, so I, at my time of life, shall never feel able to give up property and take to new habits.7 But the repugnance to giving up property was no greater,. certainly, for Newman than for many who have embraced the religious life, and it was not this, repugnance which decided him in the course he took. He goes on: -Not that I should not do it [enter a religious institute], had I a clear call--but it is so difficult to know what a. clear call is. I do not know ~nough of the rule of the different ~ongregations to haste any opinion yet--and again I do not think I could, religiously, do any-thing that Dr. Wiseman disapproved. 71bid., I, 170. 240 July, 1945 NEWMAN AND THE RELIGIOUS LII::E Final Reasons for the Orator~t Even with this protestation of ignorance concerning the rules of religious institutes, Newman sbts down' at this time ¯ the reasons which were ultimately to d~termine--indeed, we[e already determining--his choice. In thinking of a. .regular life, he continues, a great difficulty . . . is my own previous history: When it comes upon me how late I am trying to serve the Church,the obvious ahswer is, Even saints, such as St. Augustine, St. Ignatius, did not begin in earnest till a late age. "Yes, but I am much older than ~hey." So then I go on to think and to trust that my past life may form a sort of aphorme [base of operations] and a ground of future usefulness. Having lived so long in Oxford, my name and person are known to a very great many people I do not know--so are my books--and I may have begun a workwhich I am,now to finishl Now the ques-tion is whether as a regular I do not at once cut off all this, as becoming a sort of instrument of others, and so clean beginning life again. As a Jesuit e.g. no one ~ould know that I was speaking my own words:" or was a continuation, as it. were, of my former self. Newman goes on to.set down a notion which he,had thought worthwhile ment.ioning to Bishop Wiseman, that he and his associates should be a group or college in Eng-land dependent on Propaganda, which still administered England in place of a regular hierarchy. "This," Newman concludes, "would not be inconsistent ~ith being Ora-torians." By the beginning of the year 1847 Newman and a group of his friends had fixed on the Oratory of St. Philip as their place in the Church--the place where prayer and common sense and the wishes of their eccclesiastical supe-riors made it plain that God wanted them. In the spring of t847 Newman, St. John, W. Goodenough Penny, J. D. Dalgairns, Robert Coffin, Richard Stantc~n, and F. S. Bowles began a brief novitiate at Rome, and in January of the following year the first English Oratorian ~ommunit~r 241 WALTER J. ONG began tO assemble at Birmingham under a rule adapted slightly to the demands of life in England. Newman's Choice and Prbvidence The event proved that Newman's calculations were {ralid, that his patient and' prayerful search had effectively laid his life in the hands of Providence. For it was to the best interests of Christ's Kingdom that Newman should remain preeminently an individual in the minds of the English people. The English never succeeded in under-standing Newman the Catholic. They would never even have tried to understand Newman the religious---the mem-ber of some weird and superstitious'posse of the Pope's. But with Newman the individual they could at least try to sympathize. And that is how Newman won his countrymen in his ,.Apologia pro Vita Sua, diverting the currents of feeling which swirled confusedly about him into channels friendly to the Church. In 1845 and 1846 and 1847 Newman could not see ahead to the Apologia, in which he was to l~iy bare the history of his religious convictions and jus-ti. fy his conversion to Catholicity. But in the Provi-dence of God, which calls some to one kind of life ai~d some to another, "disposing all things sweetly," he took the step in 1847. which made the Apologia possible and turned his life from a long series of failures into.a great spiritual suc-cess. Had he become a .religious, Newman would have had the same story to tell as he tells in the Apologia. But, as he shrewdly foresaw in 1846, no one would have belie~'ed that he was speaking his own words. In the Oratory of St. Philip, only loosely tied to his associates, he remained .in the popular mind Newman, the individual Englishman. That made" possible the work which God bad for him to do. 242 Why Does Father Ask Questions? Gerald Kelly, S.J. DURING the years of his seminary training,, the young priest-to'be is thoroughly instructed in the duties of those who go to confession anal is also made acquainted with some of the principal difficulties that his future, peni-tents might experience. ' This is as it should be, The priest should be able to help and sympathize with his penitents. But that is only one side of the picture. The confessor-. penitent relationship .is "mutual; and, particularly from the point of view of the penitent, it is, perhaps the most pro-f0u. ndly intimate relationship in the world. The penitent often reveals things to the confessor that he Would not dis-close to anyone, else, even his dearest friend.It seems logical, therefore, that the penitent ought to know something of the duties and problems of the confessor. Catholics do know, in.a rather vague way, something of the confessor's duties and difficulties. They know that he ~ears their sins as the ambassador of God and that he is bound by the most rigid and sacred secrecy possible. And they can readily understand that long hours in the confes-sional must be tiresome and must create a. spei:ial :difficulty with regard to the practice of such virtues as patience and kindness. But there are many things that they do not understand" and one of these seems to be the asking of questions by the.confessor.~ If we may judge from remarks heard in conversations about confession, we may conclude that penitents fall into three rather general classes with respect to being questionbd by the confessor. Some penitents rather like it because it 243 GERALD KELLY Reoieu~ for Religiou~ makes their own task easier and makes them more satisfied that their confession was good. Others definitely resent ~luestioning; they want to say what they have to say and then be allowed to go in peace. Still others neither like nor resent the questioning, but among these many wonder why questions are asked. All these classes of penitents--and of course all who teach catechism and instruct others how~ to go to confession--would very likely profit by-a knowledge of som'e of the reasons why the priest questions °~hem; and if they ~kriew these reasons they would very likely try to improve their methods of going to confession and thus avoid the necessity of questions. As a judge in the placeof Christ, the priest gives abso-lution to a worthily-disposed sinner and refuses absolu-tion to the sinner who is not sufficiently disposed. This is the most imporl)ant office of the confessor; but it is not his only.' function. He is also a pb~tsician., with the duty of healing the wounds of sin.and prescribing remedies for the "future; he is, to some extent~ a teacher, with the duty of instructing the ignorant; and he is the spiritual ~:atber to his penitent, with the° duty of giving paternal admonitions, counsel, affd e.ncouragement. In each and' all of these capacities, the priest might tinct reasons, for questioning pe.nitents. I" cannot discuss all these reasons here; but I should like to call attention to those tbat might be most common or most important. Sut~cien't Matter? For the instruction of. seminarians and for the help. of priests, moral theologians sometimes prepare ~¢hat thev call "case books"--that is, books of practical problems that ~the priest .is likely~ to encounter in.his ministry. To make the problem concrete, it is proposed in the form "of a ficti-tious incident. The student is to,decide what he would do 244 ,lul.q, 1945 \VllY DOES FATHER ASK QUES'I~IONS? under the circumstances; then he can check his solution with the solution offered by the author of the book. I can illustrate the first reason why a priest might ask questions by two s.ample Confessions taken from one of these case books. The first confession is that of a devout woman named Eudoxia. "I never detract others, as many women do," EuSoxia tells her confessor. "I have had to listen to men blaspheme, but.I told them I disapprove of their language. And I forgot to say my morning prayers several times.". That, according to the case book, is Eudoxia's entire confession. Not. a real sin is mentioned; and there is no concluding accusation of the sins of her past life. So far as absolution is concerned, Eudoxia might just as well be a newly baptized baby. But there is this l~rofound difference between Eudoxia and the baby" the baby has not sinned, whereas Eudoxia--unless she has the special privilege given to Our Lady--most certainly has committed some small sins, at least in he.r past life. The confessor's problem is to get her to confess a sin. "Perhaps you have told some small lies, or given way to impatience, or committed some other small sins; like sins of vanity?" the confessor asks Eudoxia. Most of us, I am sure, would call this an easy, safe approach, Tl~ere is" nothing particularly opprobrious about these .sins,.and even very good people occasionally fall into them. But not Eudoxia! "Far be it from me, Father," she replies firmly, ever to commit any of those sins!" With that we can leave Eudoxia to her confessor. He may try to explain to her how all people commit some small, sins, and that in her case it is just a matter of recog-nizing the sins and perhaps of examining her conscience more carefully. He might even indicate that she could get some valuable information abmit herself from. those "other 245 GERALD KELLY women" of whom she spoke in her confession or from those men who blasphemed in her presence. But he may not and cannot give absolution until he knows, there is something to absolve. Virtues, mere imperfections, involuntary acts, and doubtful sins (for example: "I accuse myself in so far asI amguilty") arenot sufficient matter for absolution;' and if a confessionconsists entirely of such things~ the con-fessor simply has to ask questions. ¯ Anbther sample confession, taken from the same case bbok, will illustrate the problem of insufficient matter under a slightly different aspect. This time the penitent is a man, .whose Latin name is best translated by Goodfellow. "'Father," runs Goodfellow's confession, "I haven't anything to confess except that I frequently had impure thoughts, and once, when I was traveling, I missed Mass on Sunday." That is the whole of Goodfellow's confession. He seems tO be a man of few deeds and fewer words. The prin-dipal difference between his and Eud0xia's confessions is that Eudoxia deaily confessed no sins, whereas Goodfellow may be confessing real sins. Every confessor learns, after some little ~xperience, that the accusation, "I had impure thoughts," does,not necessarily mean sin. It could mean that the penitent committed a mortal sin against purity_; but it could also mean that the penit.ent was merely tempted against purity--in other words, that the thoughts were entirely involuntary and not at all culpable. And the same may be said for Goodfellow's failure to hear Mass. Devout people sometimes confess "missing Mass," even when they had. a broken leg. They. do not really mean that they sinned; they merely feel better when they tell the confessor aboutoit. Goodfellow might be one of these devout people; perhaps his journey made it impossible to .hear Mass and lie knew this .was no sin. 246 dul~,IP45 WHY DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? If Goodfellow's impure thoughts were involuntary and he had a good excuse or thought he had a good excuse 'for missing Mass, his confession is the same as Eudoxia's: it Gontains no real sin. Strictly speaking, things like this should not be confessed unless one wishes to get, some advice about them; but if the peni.tent does confess them, he should indicate .that they were not sins and should ' include in his confession some other matter for absolution. Otherwise the confessor must ask questions. Mortal or Venial Sin? Even if Goodfellow's impure thoughts were really sin-ful, there would still be a further problem for the confessor. He has to judge, in so far as this is reasonably possible, whether the penitent ~ommitted a venial sin.or a mortal sin: and this judgment is particularly difficult .to make with regard to such things as internal sins. As I said before, the accusation, "I had impure thoughts," may refer merely to a. temptation, in which case it would be no sin at all. But it could also mean that the penitent was guilty of some negli-gence in getting rid of impure thoughts--and this, though it would be a venial, sin, is a far cry from full consent and deliberate mortal sin. All of us learfied (or were supposed to learn) in cate-chism class that a full-fledged mortal sin must have three. elements: serious matter, sufficient ~eflection, and full con-sent of the will. In some types of[accusations a confessor can readily presume that all these elehaents were present;but in many other~ be must ask a question or tWO to determine whether the matter was really, serious or whether there was sufficient reflection and full consent. It is often very difficult, even after questioning, to.forma judgment regarding reflec-tion and consent; and it can happen that both the penitent and the confessor will have to leave the judgment to God. 247 GERALD KELLY Review for Religious But they are not supposed to "leave it to God" without r~aking some reasonable effort to decide it for themselves. I might mention here that the judgment concerning d~gree of guilt is not nearly so important as the judgment ~oncerning sufficiency of matter. A mistake concerning sufficient matter (for example: if the confessor judged that the confession contained real sin when not even a real venial sin was included in thea c'cusa"tion) would make the abso-lution invalid, even though the penitent, being in good faith, would commit no sin. But a mistake in judging the degree of guilt (for example: by judging a sin to be mortal when it was only venial, or vice vers)~) would not affect the validity of the absolution. The Law or: Integrity Reminiscing on catechism days will also bring to our minds the la~ of Christ that all mortal sins must be con-fessed according to species and number: in other words, the ekact kind of ~in committed andthe exact number of times each sin was committed, in so far as the penitent can tell these details, must be confessed. If the priest notices that this law is not being kept, he must prudently help the penitent by questions. The man who has committed mur-der does not satisfy this obligation by merel.y saying that he violated the Fifth Commandment, because there are many ways of violating that Commandment; and if he murdered his brother he would not satisfy his obligation by saying that he had killed a man, because homicide and fratricide are different kinds of sins. Finally, if we make the wild supposition that he bad seven brothers and that he mur-dered them all, he would not fulfill the law of integral con-fession by simply saying that he had murdered his brothers, because he "is Supposed to tell how many mortal sins he committed. 248 dulg, 1945 WHY DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? I realize that homicide and fratricide are not the regular subject-matter for confessions. A Commandment that would probably touch the lives of ordinary people more ¯ closely would be the Sixth. And the confession of sins against this Commandment present~ special difficulties for both penitent and confessor. Penitents find the confession of sins of impurity embarrassing, and they would naturally 'like to keep their accusation as general as possible. Further-more. they often do not know just how to express them-selves, perhaps because they feel that they do not know the proper terms to be used in the confessional. As for the con-fessor, it is easily seen how he might find the questioning of penitents concerning sins of impurity a particularly delicate matter. The best solution to' the mutual embarrassment problem is to have the penitent try to keep the law of .integrity by confessing in his own words the kind of sin he committed. The confession should be brief and to the point. The confessor can hardly fail to understafid: and thus the need of questions, at least on this score, will be avoided. Of course, there are 15enitents who prefer to be questioned in this matter because they find it too difficult to express themselves without help. These penitents should at least mention their inability to the confessor and asl( for his assistance. True Contrition? A very important--in fact, an essential--judgment to be made by the confessor concerns the penitent's disposition. Practically speaking, tbis means that before giving absolu-tion the confessor must judge that his penitent has. true contrition, at least imperfect contrition. Absolution can-not be ~'alid if the penitent has not this minimum'disposi-sition. ¯Generally speaking, of course, the presumption is that 249 GERALD KELLY Review for Religious ¯ people do not confess their,sins unless they are sorry for them. But this presump.tion admits of many exceptions, as the moral theologiai~s are careful to point out. For instance, there is thecase of the penitent w, ho has been prac-t. ically forced to confession by wife, m0ther~ br teacher. It is true that even under such circumstances a good confession can be made; but there is a very real danger that such con-fessions might be insincere and that genuine contrit.ion and desire for absolution mil~ht be lacking. Another difficulty tha't might make for defective contrition is lack of instruc-tion. Great moralists like St. Alphonsus' Liguori point out that many simple people are a~t to get the habit of going to confession without really appreciating the need of contrition; especially with reference to purpose of amend-ment. In all.cases like the above, where the confessor has a reasonable .suspicion that-contrition is lacking or defective, he must ask a question or two. And besides these general difficulties there are certain sl~ecific problems concerning which he must be especially careful. Among these specific cases a m6st important one .is that of the penitent with a habit of serious sin. . The habitual sinner is apt to have a very vague and ineffective purpose of amendment. In. a general way he wants to break his habit, but he fails to decide on any deft-nite way of doing so. Strong habits are not broken in that way. One must.try to find the reason for his habit and try to remove that reason. The habit may be the result of his own weakness; and in this case he must take some means to strengthen himself. Or the habit may be connected with an occasion of sin; and in this event some very drastic measures may" halve to be taken, with regard to the occasion. These are basic points concerning habits of sin; yet the penitent may be ignorant of them and unconscious of his need for 250 J~,ty, 1945 Wl-iy DOES FATHER ASK QUESTIONS? help. And even if he feels his need very acutely, even if h~ is dreadfully discouraged--a not uncommon effect of habits of impurity---~ he may be too timid to ask for help; hence, if the .confessor does not takethe initiative, great harm may result. Even when a habitual sinner shows good Will his pr6b-lem is apt to be a'difficult one, because.it is not always easy to determine the exact ~ause of the trouble and to prescribe an immediately effective remedy. But the difficulty is much more serious when the penitent manifests a lack of sincer-ity: for example,, if he returns to the same confessor again and again without having made any attempt to follow advice, or if he goes from one confessor to another in order to find an "easy" one or to avoid the .need of giving an account of himself. Human nature is prone, to seek the ehsy ¯ way, and the very law of the Church which allows peni-tents a choice of confessors can be abused in such a way ~s to defeat the purpose of confession. Knowing these things. the confessor cannot omit questions when he notices or has a solid reason for suspecting that his peniten( is insincere. Other Reasons :or Questions. Thus far I have given the principal reasonswhy a con-lessor might feel obliged to ask questions: namely, to determine if there is sufficient matter foi absolution; to decide the degree of sinfulness; to help the penitent to make'- a complete, confession; to test the penitent,'s disposition; and to give needed advice and encouragement. Another very important reason is his desire to correct a false con-science. .These and similar purposes all fall within the scope of his sublime office as minister of the sacrament-- as judge, physiciah, teacher, and spiritual father. And to these we might add the simpler and more natural reasons, such as the fact that he does not hear what is.said, or that 25! GERALD KELLY . he is, not 'sure h.e catches "the penitent's meaning. And finally, the confessor is not exempt~from such difficulties as distractions and sleepiness. His mind may wander, and.his head may nod! If penitents were to keep all these things i'n mind, they would not resent questions, bfit they would try to make their confessions sufficiently clear and complete to allow the confessor tom keep his questions to the mini-mum. No doubt-it is true that occasionally unnecessary and even useless questions are asked: but this is'not the rule. Questioning penitents is seldom pleasant. Books Received ¯(From A~rll ZO to ,lune 20) " " LONGMANS~ GREEN. AND CO., INC., London, New York, Toronto. Enjoying the Neu~ Testament. By Margaret T. Monro. $2.50. THE BRUCE PUBLISHING CO. Milwaukee. A Dynamic 1~7or/.d Order. By Rt. Rev. Msgr. Donald~A. Mac Lean, A. M., S.T.L., Ph.D. $2.50. Weapons for Peace. By Thomas P. Neill. $2.50. CATECHETICAL GUILD, St. Paul, Minn. That You Mug Liue. By L. F. Cervantes, S.J. $2.00. SOCIETY OF SISTERS OF THE HOLY NAMES, Marylhurst, Oregon. The Hope of the Hart, est. By a-Sister of the Holy Names. $4.00 (plus postage). FREDERICK PusTET CO., INC., New~ York. Meditations on Eternitg for t~eligious. By the Venerable Mother Julienne Morell, O.P. $2.50. B. HERDER BOOK CO., St. Louis. A Retreat for Religious. By Rev. Andrew Green, O.S.B. $2.00. Christian Denominations. By Rev. Konrad Algermissen. $7.50. MOTHERHOUSE OF IMMACULATE CONCEPTION, Cdnvent Heights, New Britain, Conn. D,n'l~) Progress in Religious Virtues. By Rev. John Pitrus, S.T.D.'$1.60. 252 Perl:ecfion Is Union wish God Augustine Klaas, S.3. WE OFTEN HEAR it said.that spiritual perfection is union with God .and that~ the moreintimate this union is, the greater our perfection. The statement is true;but is there not frequently some haziness of mind as to just what is meant by. union With God and how it per-tains to perfection? Let .us examine variouskinds of union with God and their relation to spiritual perfectionl Hgposti~tic Union with God 'The closest union of our human nature with the divine is had in Jesus_Christ by rdason, of the hypostatic union, that is, the union of the divine and human natures of Christ in the Person of the Word. One Persofi, the Son of God, having a divine nature from all eternity, took to Himself a human nature like our very own from. the flesh of Mary, and by a viriginal birth became also .the son of Mary. "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt' among us" (John 1 : 14). ~Or as. Pope Saint Leo the Great graphically expresses it: "the Wisdom of God built a house in the flesh, whkh He took from a human being, and which He animated with a -rational soul." The human nature of.Christ ever remains distinct from the divine, but the two natures, are subs[an-t~ iallg united in the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. This is the closest possible .union of our human nature with God. Such an intimate, substantial union of the human and the divine is had in Jesus Christ alone, for revelation tells of only one hypostatic union. It were blasphemy to say that in our pursuit of perfection we could ever attain to such an 253 AUGUSTINE KLAAS for Religious immediate union with God. We cannot even understand its character fu!ly since'it is an ineffable mystery. Before it we can only bow our heads in faith, in adoration, and in grati-tude, too, because from the hypostat!c union comes not only our sublime Model of perfection, but also from it, as from a fo~antainbead, flow all our grace, justification, incorporation into the Mystical Body, spiritual perfection. and ultimately our everlasting:union with God in heaven. Union with God in Hea~)en The blessed Jn heaven are intimately united to God. This union of our human nature with ,the divine is not substantial, like the previous one, but only accidental. Called the beatific vision, it is an immediate intuitive p.er-ception of the essence of God ~esuking in 10ve, and a sati-ating joy and bliss that Will last forever. Aided .by the "light of glory; the blessed see God face to face. .'.'We see'nqw, ,through a glass in a dark manner.; but then fa~e to face" (I Corinthians 13" 12). And because of this direct vision of God the blessed love God to' their utmost and are supremely happy for all eternity~ They can neither increase nor diminish this union, since their time of probation is over. They are home at last in their Father's house. ¯ However, union with God in heaven is not had by all the blessed in the same degree, for "there are many man-sions" in our~elestial abode. What determines its degree? The degree o.f our vision of God and of our capacity for love and happiness .hereafter is indirect proportion to the sanctifying grace, merit, and spiritual perfection we have acquired in this l~fe. In other words, the degree.of our union with God in heaven is measured wholly by the degree of our union with God on earth. Union with God on Earth On earth we are united to God' by sanctffging grace. 254 dul~,1945 PERFECTION IS uNIoN WITH GOD Pope Leo XIII in his encyclical on the Holy spirit explains this union as follows: No. one can express the greatness of this work of divine grace in the souls.of men. Wherefore, both in Holy Scripture and in the Gritings. of the Fathers, men are styled regenerated, new creatures, partakers of 0the Divine Nature, children of God, godlike, and similar el~ithets. Now these great blessings are justly'considered as especially belonging to the. Holy Spiri.t . . . He not only .brings to us His Divine gifts, 15ut is the Author of them and is Himself the supreme Gift . To show tile nature and e~icacy of this gift it is.wel! to recall the explanation given by thee Doctors.of the Church of the words of Holy Scripture. Tfiey say that God is.present and exists in'all thin, gs by His. power, in so far as all things are sub'ject toHis power; by His presence, inasmuch a's al! thin~s are uncovered and open to His eyes; by His essence, inasmuch as He is present to all.as the cause of their being (St. Thomas, Summa Tbeologica I, Q. 8, Art. 3). But God is' in ma.n, not just as. in lifeles~ things, but in the.furthe.r way thaf He is also known and loved by him, since even by nature we spontane-ously love, desire and seek after the good.~ Moreover, God by'grac~ resides in the justsoul.as in a temple, in a most intimateand peculiar manner. From this proceeds that union of affection by which the soul adheres cl~sely to God, mor~ so than the friend is united t6 his most lovi.ng and beloved friend,' ~nd enjoys God in all fulness and sweetness. Now this wonderful union, which is prop~ly called "indwelling," differing only in degree or state from that with which God beatifies the saints in Heaven, alt1~ougl4 it is most certainly produced by ~the presence of the whole Blessed Trin-ity--" We {vill come to him, and will make .our abode ,with him" (dohn 14: 23)--nevertheless' is attributed in .a peculiar manner to the Holy Spirit. " Habitual union with God present in the~soul in a pecul-iar way through sanctif)fing, grace is of. the very essence of spiritual perfection in this world, since without sanct.ifying. grace we are supernaturallyand spiritualIy dead. On the other hand, the more sanctifying grace is increased in our souls by the worthy r.eception of the sacraments, especially of the Holy Eucharist, and by the assiduous practice of .the 255 AUGUSTINE KI~AAS Review [or Religious virtues, principally charity, the more, intimate becomes our habitual union with God and "the greater our spiritual.per-fection. When We shall have.acquired the maximum sanc-tifying grace we are capable of, granted our particular, indi-vidual opportunities of nature and.of grace, then.we shall hard attained to the closes~ habitual union with God and tbe highest perfection. This fundamental, essential perfec-tion spiritual writers sometimes call static, perfectior~. There is still another union with God flowing almost spontaneously from the'preceding'one-active union. Ac-tive union with God is called d~cnamic perfection and is what we ordinarily mean when we speak of spiritual per-fection. It consists in union with God by mind and will activity. Union with God b~t Mind Activity Active union with God" through intellect is had by thinking of God, by acquiring more and more knowledge of Him and His divine attributes fromthe .double source of reason and supernatural faith. Such knowledge of God is highly praised in Holy Scripture: "For to know thee is perfect justicei and to know thy justice, and thy power, is'tbe root of immo~tali,ty" (Wisdom 15:3). And Saint Paul: "Furthermore I count all things to be but loss for the ' excellent knowledge of Jesus Christ my lord (Philippians 3:8) . in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2:3). Among the Fathers of the Church, did not Saint Augustine epitomize the whole of the spiritual life as an ever increasing knowledge of self and of God? By knowledge of God is here meant not. merely theo-retical knowledge, scientific knowledge, knowledge of God acquired chiefly by the study of philosophy and theology, book knowledge, if you will. Practical knowledge of God. 256 July, 1945 PERFECTION I$ ~JNION WITH GOD that is, knc~wledge inducing will activity, , is still more important. Let us evaluate knowl~dge of God with refer~ ence to perfection. Theoretical knowledge of God is excellent. It can be, .and frequently is, a puissant help and incentive' tospiritual perfection. However, it must be asserted that while such knowledge provides a useful soiid basis for perfection, it does not constitute our spiritual perfection, nor even.indi-care the degree of perfection we may possess. Have there ¯ not been saints, like Benedict Labre and Bernadette Soubi-rous, whose scientific theoretical knowledge of God was ¯ very meager? On the other hand, do we not sometimes see students of theology, who have a verst superior knowledg~ of God and work at it all day long; leading imperfect liveR? The fallen angels have an excellent theoretical knowledge of God, but they are the very opposite of perfect. Eminent theologians warn us that perfection "does not consist in union with God by mind activity alone, even a great deal o~ it. "Tell me, dear Father," said Brother Giles one day to the learned Saint Bonaventure, "can a simple, uneducated person love God as much as a scholar? . Yes," replied Bonaventure, "a simple, little old grandmother can love God more¯ than a master of theology." Whereupon, we are told, guileless Brottier Giles rose up, rushed out ¯ th?ough the garden and along the streets of the town crying at the top Of his voice: :"O poor, ignorant, simple old grand-mother, love Gri!! You can still overtake Brother Bona-venture." If this is true, what the little old gran.dmother probably bad was not so much a theoretical as a practical, a '~realized" knowledge of God, a knowledge leading to,the firm judgment.and deep conviction:' "I must value and 10ve God above all else." ¯UpOn this pract!cal mind activity can be built the loftiest perfection, but in itself it still is not the union with God that is equated with spiritual perfection. 257 AUGUSTINE "KLAAS Reoiew for~ Retigiou; Hence, .while we must greatly esteem knowledge of God, both theoretical ~nd practical, and strive constantly and perseveringly to incre~ise it, by meditation, .by spiritual reading, by delving deeper into the truths of faith, by ofien recalling the presence of God. by recollection, and the like, we must not remain content with only that. If we would be perfect we must pass from union with God by mere mind activity to something b~yonfl, to something still more. pre-. cious, to union witb God' by will activity,by~love. Saint Teresa of Avila says t.hat clearly when discussing union with God in her Foundations (chapter 5): "The soul's advancement, does not conist in thinking much; but in loving much." Our spiritual perfection .is measured, .therefore, not by our knowledge of God, even though it be the knowledge of strong supernatural faith, but rather by" our~active lo~¢e of Him. That is why Saint Thomas can say that "the love of those things which are above us; and especially of God, is to be preferred to the knowledge ~f them: Wherefore charity is more excellent than fafth" ¯ (Summa II-II. Q. 23, Art. 6). A'nd so the little old grand~ mother could probably never overtake the saintly Doctor of the Church by her mind activity, even hi~r practical mind activity: she could overtake him by her will, by her union with God through will acti~;ity, by her active love of God. : Union with God by Will Actiuitg Presupposing in the soul a-close union With God through sanctifying grace and a certain necessary union with Him through mind activi(y, we maintain that spir-itual perfection consists above all in union with God by will activity, that is, by active love of God. Supernal~ural faith and hope must be present in the soul, but we are per-fect in proportion as we love God more; and when we have 258 du1~,1945 PERFECTION IS UNION WITH GOD attained the maximum.activelove of God we are capable of with the assistance of grace, then we have reached the very summit of the mount of perfection. Active love is th~ norm and gauge of spiritual perfection. We are just as perfect as we are united to God by active love of Him. Such is the unanimous teaching of Catholic theologians. as for instance, Saint Thomas, who states in his Perfection of Spiritual Life that "the spiritual life consists principall~r in charity. He is simply perfect in the spiritual life who is perfect in charity."° It is' the teaching of the Fathers of the Church who agree with Saint Augustine when he informs us in. his work On Nature and Grace that "incipi-ent charity is incipient justice [justice here means holiness] ; advanced charity is advanced justice; great charity.is great justice; perfect charity is perfect justice." It is the teaching of Saint Paul (I Corinthians 13). It is the explicit teaching of Christ Himself: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and withlthy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. This is the greates.t and the first com-mandment. And the second-is like to th~s:.Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." (Matthew 22:37-39.) And again: "Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). And Saint ~John explains: ':God is charity. '" (I John 4: 16).1 Degrees of Union with God Spiritual masters have made many attempts to give us ~he ascending scale, of degrees in this unifying love of God and the characteristics that mark each degree. They are at ,variance in detail; fundamentally, however, they are in accord, for the main landings on the grand stairway leading to the highest love of God are p.retty well known and agreed upon by all. There are three suchlafidings or degrees of 1For. a fuller treatment of this point, el. Revi'eto for Reliyious, Vol. I, pp. 238 sqq. 259 ¯ ~,UGUSTINE KLAAS union with God through love. In the first the soul is so united to God and loves Him to such a degree that it habitually avoids all mortal sin and the occasions of grave sin. It has a nascent but still feeble desire for greater perfection; it still commits many venial sins, but it struggles valiantly and successfully against strong temptations. Penance for the past, purification, and mortification characterize this rather negative degree. Its prayer is mainly discursive meditation on the .fundamental truths of faith, particularly the four last things. This is the degree of beginners in the life of perfection and it is called the Purgative W.ay. in the second degree, the soul not only avoids all mor-tal sin, but habitually rejects deliberate venial sin. It makes advances in detachment from creatures and has an inc.reasing desire for perfection. The degree is more positive than negative, since the emphasis is on the acquirement of the virtues, especially by the imitation ot~ and assimilation to Christ, "the way, the truth, and the life." The prayer in this degree tends to be predominantly affective. It is the degree of those ad.vancing in perfection: it is called the" Illuminative Way. Presupposing the habitual practice of the other two, the third degree is marked by the struggle to reduce semi-deliberate venial sins and imperfections to the minimum. The soul has made great strides towards heroic detachment and is now intent on the maximum practice of the counsels and works of supererogat!on. Its manner of praying becomes more and more simple, contemplation of God's attributes being a favorite form in this degree. Intense charity permeates all its activity, since it now lives for God alone. This is the Unitive W.ay. Of course, these degrees cannot be rigidly delimited. Nor does .the soul. leave one degree and proceed to the next 260 July, 1945 PERFECTION IS UNION WITH GOD mechanically: it may. be and generally.is ~to some extent in all degrees at once. For example, in.order.to keep onese!f babitually from mortal sin, does one not have to observe a certain number of.the counsels? ~.Is the soul in the third degree exempt from doing penance? The Whole matter is one 0f emphasis, and according to the predominance of the va.rious.qualities noted above, a soul.can be easily placed in one of the tb?ee degrees. Moreover, tb~ third degree admits of indefinite progress, since we can neverlove God as much as He can be loved, and hence; our unions with Him can ,ever become more., intimat~ ag long as we live on this earth. Perf.ect and Imperfect. Love of God From the restricted viewpoi.nt of, nobility of moti~ce .two kinds Of active love of God may be distinguished. can love God above all else because He is good to us. Such is the love of God .indicated by the Psalmist when .be exclaims: "For thee my flesh and my heart hath fainted away" thou art the God of-my b.eart, and the God that is my portion forever" (Psalms 72:26). And again: ."I will ¯ love thee, O Lord,my strength.: the Lord, is-my firmament, my.refu'ge, and ~my deliverer . " .(Psalms 1'7:2). Our Lord appeals to thismotive when He proposes "treasure. in bea'Oen. '~ tbe"bundredfold," and "life e.verlasting." Because of the less perfect nature of the motive this love of God, called "imperfect love" or "i.nterested love" of God. it is already a great deal and should by no means be contemned or slighted, but there is a higher love of God springing from a nobler motive: "perfect. love," or as it is sometimes called "disinterested love", of God. "Perfect love" of God is had when We love Him above all else not so much for the good He so generously bestows on us, but for Himself, because He is all-good in Himself. , This "perfect love" is known as the love of benevolence and 261 AUGUSTINE KL&AS Revietv /:or Religio~s friendship. In its exercise we prescind from our own inter-ests or at least subordinate them to Him, since we love God simply for Himself,, and not for our own advantage. "Fhis highest of motives makes this the highest type of love of .God. In it we take complacent delight in God and in His perfections; we ardent!y desire to glorify Him; we actively give glory to Him by conforming our will as much as pos-sible in all. things to His: we .bring others to glorify Him. And all tl~is simply because God is God,.because God is all-good and all-lovable in Himself. The love Of benevolence affd friendship: is perfected extensively when we embrace by our lov~ more of the per-fections of God and more of His creatures; it: is perfected intensivelty when we make the acts of love more vehemently and more constantly until we develop a solid habit of the perfect love of God. W'hen the love reaches the maximum we are capable of then we are simply perfect. M~/stic Union with God Finally, there is still another union with God for which the union by rhind and will activity is an indispensable preparation. It is mystic union, a special gift of God's grace to His favored friends. Mystic unidn with God, an earthly union which approaches that of theblessed in heaven, is not necessary for spiritual perfection, but it is a potent means to it because it results insublime and intense acts of the perfect love of God. The precious gift of mystic union generally presupposes in him who receives it an advanced degree of union with God by active love, espe-cially perfect love. Conclusion To conclude by way of.summary: spiritual perfection is union with. God. It is union with God by a maximum 262 July/, 1945 ' PERFECTION IS UNION WITH GOD of sanctifying grace, called static perfection. It is unio.,n., with God. by a certain am.ount of necessary supernatura'[ mind activity, theoretical and practical. It is union with God by a maximum of supernatural will activity, a maxi-mum of the perfect love of God, called dynamic perfecti.on. This earthly union with God .whkh is our perfecti6n merits for us and is the measure~of our Union with God in "heaven, our ultimate, inamissible perfection. All our union with God, both in heaven and on earth, all.our spiritual perfection, we owe to the hyp0static union with God had in Jesus Christ, since He as God-man merited them fbr us by His life, passion and death. Moreover, He is the peerless Model of all spiritual perfection and union with God. PAMPHLET NOTICES It seems that religious institutes in increasing numbers are issuing pamphlets and other material to attract aspirants to their ranks. This is as it should be. One such pamphlet comes from South Africa and bears the title, Priestly/ and Religious Voca-tion. After giving a brief account of the m. issionary activity of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, the author, Father T. F. Kelly, O.M.I., describes the nature and signs of vocation both in relation to the priesthood and to the religious life. He con-cludes with an earnest plea to the generous young people of South Africa to heed' the call of Christ. The pamphlet may be.obtained from the Oblate Novitiate, 44 Park-hill Road, Glebe, Germistou, Transvaal, South Africa. With the same purpose in mind the Sisters of Loretto, Lor~tto M0therho~se, Ner~inx. P.O., Kentucky, have issued a folder entitled "Congratulations Pegg~It."' Written in the form of a letter to a young woman about to enter the novitiate it gives us a brief account of the founding, the history, and the ~vork of the Lorettines in the Uuited States and in China. Some good photogral~hs depicting houses and activities of the congregation greatly increase the value of the folder. Father Albert H. Dolan, O.Carm., the zealous promoter of devotion to St. Therese of Lisieux, has issued a pamphlet, St. Therese, Patroness of the Mis-sions. In 16 pages he sets forth the reasons why SL Therese was chosen as Patron-ess of the Missions and urges her devout clients to follow her example of prayer and unfemittipg sacrifice for the missions. The pamphlet may be obtained from The Carmelite Press, 6413 Dante Avenue, Chicago, Illinois, or 55 Demarest Avenue; Engie~ood, N.J. Piice: ten cents. 263 Our,.Lady's Parents Francis L. Filas, S.3. MUCofH thaes p waree Wntso.u lodf l iOkue rt o,L'kandoyw, w thee c aacnt"u afli nlidf en-osttohriyng directl'y concerning them in the Gospels. However~ Holy Scripture gives us some information in stating that Christ was promised to Abraham and to 3acob, ~nd that He came out of the tribe of 3uda.1 This means that 3esus was a son of David and a son of Abraham, not only legally ~hrough St. 3oseph but also naturally through the Blessed Virgin, and therefore through her parents, 3oachim and /~nne. Various Scripture scholars have proposed a rather ingenious theory tO show that Luke set forth the genealogy of Mary rather than of 3oseph when he.wrote, "And 3esus Hi.resell, when He began His work, was about thirty years . of age, beingmas was supposed--the son of 3osdph, the son of Heli . : . the son of David . . the son of Adam. who was the son of God" (3:23). According to this the-ory the text is phrased differently so as to read, "3esus. being--as was suppbsed the son of 3oseph--the sori of Hell," and so,forth. Thus the person of Heli is identified with the person of 3oachim. Even further, the two names are said~ to be the same, for "Hell" ~Eli) is taken as a shortened form of "Eliachim." Both "Eliachim'~ and "3oachim" are interchangeable, meaning in Hebrew, "God sets up." Unfortunately, so charming a .theory is far from being accepted by all Scripture scholars. From earliest times the ¯ genealogies of Matthew and Luke have usually been inter- XGenesis 18,22, 28; Luke 1:32; Romans'l :3; 2 Timothy 2:8; Hebrews 8. 264 OUR LADY'S PARENi'S preted as giving the 1,egaI ancestry of Our Lord through St. Joseph and not through Mary. This has been the gen-eral tenor of opinion even thoug,19 no one theory fits per-fectly in further explaining th~ problems connected with the two varying accounts. Because of this silence ofthe Gospels we must turn to the only other possible sources of information concerning Mary's parents: the Iegends of Joachim and Anne. The Legends of Joachim and Anne At first sigh~ it might)seem a worthless task to have recourse to a legend to seek data about historic personages. Yet in the case of Joachim and Anne nothing else exists. We must at least consider what' was said about them, even if we cannot a~cept it all as true. The earliest account in which they are mentioned.-is Called the Protoeoange! of James, a work pretending to be a history of the birth of Mary and of the early events in tl~e life of Jesus. 'Having originated about 150 A, D., it is 0nly a hundred years younger than the Gospels and thus enjoys a reputation of antiquity. .- In common with other apocryphal literature ,of its type the Protoeoanget of James was apparently based on snatches of true tradition--a sort.of 'pious gossip---con-cerning Christ and those who were near to Him. Some~ thing like our modern historical novel, the Protoevanget wa~ meant to fill in with plausible details the gaps where the curiosity of the faithful was left unsatisfied by the four Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke~ and John. But unlike "these Gospels the Apocryphal tradition was of purely human origin. It was neither divinely inspired when com-posed nor providentially kept pure when transmitted. Accordingly, as it was.repeated again and again in word and writing, it accumulated more and more exaggerations, 265 FRANCIS L. FILAS R6biew for Religious and additions, so that at the present day we have no way of determining what is genuine and what is spurious in ~its content. The Chur~ch never accepted this imitation of the true Gospels, but early branded it as apocryphal'(as, for example, in .the Decree' of Pope Gelasius in 495). The majority of early Fa,thers of the Church, as well as later ecclesiastical writers, likewise recognized it as counterfeiL None the less, popular authors in the Middle Ages and afterward borrowed .extensively from .the legendary, source in order to stimulate the great ~levotion of the Ages of Faith. In all this spurious devotional literature the ques-tion of lying or passing on a lie was seemingly not attended to; rather, generous hearts uncritically sought and eagerly accepted every means to gain mbre knowledge, of the lives of desus and His saints. Two enlargements were made of the legend of ,loachiin and Anne as it appeared in the Pt'ptoevar~gd of da~es: namely, the Gospel of Pseado-Matthev~ (about 450 A. D.) and the Gospel of the Nativity/ [~f Mat'V (exact date unknown). As is evident, there is more likelihood of truth in the original, the P, rotoevar~get, than in any of its suc-ceeding variations. This is the substance of the original account: Joadhim is a rich and generous shepherd. He and his Wife Anne are deepl.y grieved because they have no chil-. dren. V~rhile Anne is lamenting tl6e curse of her sterility, an angel appears tO her with the Words, "The Lord hath heard thor prayer, and thou shalt conceive, and shalt bring forth; and thy seed shall be spoken of in all the world." At the same tim~ a similar vision is granted Joach~m ~hile tending his flocks~ In gratitude to God, Anne promises to consecrate.he~ child to the divine service in the Temple. Upon the birth'of the child, who receives the name of 266 dulg, 1945 OUR LADY'S PARENTS l~ary, the happy mother breaks out into a canticle of thanksgiving. Later, when she is three years old, Mary is .brought to the,Temple and joyfully remains there to praise and serve God. Such is the g!st of the early chapters of the Proto-evangel of James. In the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew :the story is given more imagingtive coloring: Joachim's gen-erosity is described at greater length. He distributes his riches to the poor and to those "who' worshipped God"' before taking ashare for himself. At 15 he is already a wealthy shepherd" and at 20 be marries Anne, "the daughter of Acbar, of his own tribe, that is,. of the tribe of 'Juda of the family of David." The couple's childlessness lasts for twenty years, after which the angels appear to Anne and Joachim. The rest of this tale merely develops the story of the Protoevangel, adding more details, greatek emphasis, and .particularly more frequent miraculous inter-ventions. The third and final form of the legend is contained in the Gospel of the Nativitg of Maw, a charming though unhistorical con~pilation of the preceding tradition. This Gospel does not'add substantially to the tale of th~ Proto-evangel, but rather edits it.so that the poetical beauty of the narrative is heightened and made more sublime. ~What Is True of Joachim and Anne? The task of separating the true' from the false in the old Apocryphal legends is most difficult, if not impossible. Yet, though we have no historical norms by which to judge, we can at least, attempt to determine what is definitely interpo!ated and what can perhaps be a vestige of the orig-inal correct tradition. ' In the first place, the special i'niracles of the angelic appa-ritions are quite doubtful. Such momentous divine inter- 267 FRANCIS L. FILAS Review for Religiods ventions in the lives of the parents of Mary would certainly have &awn so muchattention should we say notoriety? .-=to the Blessed Virgin that the obscurity which a-ccom-panied her life with doseph and desus would have given way to constant public notice. Moreoyer,- the Proto-evangel of dames, like all the Apocrypha, has a'very explicit tendency to scatter miracles with a bountiful hand through-out its narrative. Perhaps the most cogent reason for denying credibility to the miracles of the,Protoeoar~gel is the evident modeling of these prodigies on genuine miracles related in Holy Scripture. All the writers of Apocryphal legends are eager to have their accounts placed on a par with the canonical Gospels. They not only copy typical Gospel stories, but even plagiarize directly from th~ inspired text. In thecase ofdoachim his forty days" fast as a prayer. to obtain a child is based on the fasts of Moses, Elias, and Christ.~ Even more striking is the parallel between Anne~s prayer to (3od and theprayer of ,~dnna, mother of Samuel, that the Lord "would give to His servant a man-child.''3 Again, the canticle of thanksgiving of Anne, wife of 3oa-" chim, .is suspiciously similar to.the canticle of her earlier namesake and, .to some extent, to the Mayrffficat of the Blessed Virgin.4 In contrast to the few imi~ortant details given by the Gospels, the legends go to great lengths to set forth trivi-alities. -That is why the familiar details concerning Joa-chim's prosperity must also be re]ected. They constitute precisely the information which the Apocrypha were invented to supply. o The least~doubtful of all the data in the legend is the correctness o.f. the names Joachim and Anne. It seems UExodus 24:18, 34:28; .3 Kings 19:8; Matthew. 4:2. al Kings 1:9,18. 41 Kings 2: Luke 1:46-55. 268 dulq, 1945 'OuR'LADY'S PARENTS likely that,the name "Anne'~ (Anna: Hannah) reminded the early writer of Hannah, mother of Samuel, and thus led him to introduce the direct divine announcement of the forthcoming birth Of M~ry, modeled on that of the annouficement of the birth of Samuel. On the other hand, "Elcana," the name of the father Of Samuel has no resem-blance to "Joachim," the name of the father of Mary. Neither the names nor the circumstances related of Joachim and Elcana are similar. Finally, we must not forget that in all Christian centuries "Joachim" and ".Anne" were accepted as the names of the parents of Mary even while.the other details of their legend were discarded by the majority of Church scholars. While we .can prudently, doubt the authenticity of the legends of 3oachim and Anne, we know with absolute cer-tainty that God gave them every grace needed for their posi-tion as father and fiaother of the Mother Of God: The all-perfect and sinless Mary could hardly be born of any but the most saintly parents. In granting Joachim and Anne the title of saints, the Church has acted wisely and con-si~ te.ntly. The devotion v~hieh it sanctioned does not strand or fall with the correctness or falsity of the iegends. Rather, it represents the honor that is logically paid to the two per-sons ;¢¢hom the Eternal Father chose to bring forth the Mother of God. Just as J~sus sancti~fied Mary and Jose.ph by.His close relations with them, so must Mary .have sanc-tiffed h~r father and mother by her intimacy with ~hem in the years durir~g whi(h God was preparing her for her career as mother of the Savior and as the mother of all redeemed mankind. , The words of St. Peter Damian best express the atti-tude we ought to cultivate with regard to the details of the lives of Mary's parents. "There are s~ome," he writes, "who ¯ w~shing to know what is useless, seek with vain and exces- , 269 ¯ FRANCIS L. FILAS sire curiosity to find who was the father and who ¯ mother of Mary. They seek. to discover in vain¯What the Evar~gelist deemed it superfluous to ~elate. Had this knowledge been necessary, so noble a historiafi would not have neglected to give it to us, inasmuch as it is the constant practice of the sacred writers never to say .what can injure and never to omit what it is useful for us to know.''" If the greatness of the Blessed Virgin stemmed from. ,Joachim and Anne, the Gospels would have described them fully to us. But the case is actuallythe opposite. Mary is the light in whose reflected glory her parents shine. That is sufficient for Our interest. With absolute assurance we know the greatness of Mary from the revealed word of God. This fact again is more than enough to deduce the greatness of her parents. Our piety and devotion do not rest on an old tradition which cannot be authenticated and might one day be proved false in its'entirety. They are based on the truth demonstrated again and again during nine'teen cen-turies of Christian history--nearer to Ma~y means nearer to God. OUR CONTRI.BUTORS AUGUSTINE KLAAS, Professor of Sacramental Theology at St. Mary's College, is the author of several previous articles on the nature of perfection. (~. AUGUSTINE ELLARD and GERALD KELLY are members of our Editorial Board and Professors of Ascetical Theology and Moral Theology respectively. WALTER J. ONG is a stu-dent of theology at St. Mary's. FRANCIS L, FILAS, who has recently been ordained to the priesthood at West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana. has con-tributed several articles to earlier i~sues of the REVIEW. ~Hom. 3 in Natio. B.V,M. .270 ( ues ions and Answers 35 Many sacristans would be grateful ~o you if you would publish these qu6stions and the answers to them in Review for Religious: (I) Must blessed ashes left over Trom Ash Wedn~e~day be put into the sacrarlumT. (2) Please llst all things that should be put into the sacrarlum. 1 ) Yes, it.ls proper to put the blessed ashes into the sacrarium, or else to throw them into the fire. (2) We cannot guarantee to give a list of all the thifigs that should be put into the sacrarium. Here are some of them: used baptismal water, other .blessed water, the.contents of the ablution cup kept near the tabernacle, the water used in washing the altar linens (palls, purificators, and corporals), and the water left in the taoabo dish after Mass. Please outlln~ the respective jurisdiction of the mother general and the local superior in a motherhouse in .which there is alsoa novitiate. What authority should each exercise with regard to (I) Sisters residing habitually in the house, (2). Sisters visiting the motherhouse, (3} occasional, events.~ The mother general goverias the institute as a whole; the local superior governs the local community just as any .other local superior does. Hence the Sisters residing habitually in the house, as well as Sisters visiting the motherhouse, are subject to the local Superior as they would be in any other community. As to occasional events, these have reference either to the local community or to the institute as a whole. In the first case they are under the direction of the local superior, in the second case under that of the mother ~eneral. The novitiate i~ directly under the care and supervision of the mistress of ndvices. Canon 561, § 1 clearly indicates this: "The master (mistress) of novices alone has the right and the obligation of providing for.the formation of the nbvices; he alone is charge.d with the direction of the novitiate, so that no one, under whatever pretext, may interfere in these matters, except 'superiors who are permitted to do so by the constitutions and the canonical visitors; as to the gen-eral discipline of the house, the master (mistress),. together v~ith.the novices themselves, is subject to the (local) superior." 271 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious In two of our cqnvents there has been a bng-standlng custom of taking the body of a deceasi~d Sister to the communlty.chapel on the afternoon before the day of the funeral. I recall either hearing or reading that only the body of a deceased bishop, priest, etc., may be left in the church or chapel befor~ the burial Mass. What is the affltude of the Church on this point? Has canon law any provisions regarding.this maffer? There seems to be no positive, legislation either prohibiting or permitting the body of a deceased person to be brought to .the church or' chapel the day before the funeral and to remain there overnight. o Hence it would seem to be determined by local custom. In places where such a custom has been observed for a long time it may be con-tinued, but it .should not be introduced in other pkices without first consulting the local ordinary. 38 Some years ago we opened a mission house in a diocese distinct from that in which our motherhouse is located. We obtained permission from both bishops to do so. We now wish to close this house, because of serious difficulties. Is it necessary to informboth bishops of our intention to dis-continue our services in that particular parish? The closing, of a religious house is provided for in canon 498 which reads as follows: "No religious housel whether formal or not, belonging to an exbmpt institute, can be suppressed without apostolic authority; a house belonging to a non-exempt congregation approved or commended by the Holy See can be suppressed by the.supbrior gen-eral with the consent of the local ordinary; if it belongs to a diocesan congregation, it can be suppressed by "the mere authority .of the local ordin.ary after consultation with the superior of the congregation, subject however to the prescription of canon 493 if there be questio,n of an only house, and preserving the right of recourse with suspensive ~ effect to the Apostolic See." "' .Hence we must distinguish three cas~s: (1) The house belongs to an exemp.t institute, that is, to an order (which is exempt by law) or to a congregation which enjoys:a special privilege of exemption. In this case the permission of the Holy See must be obtained in order" to close the house. (2) The house .belongs to a congregation approved or commended (decree of praise) by the Holy See. In this case the superior general can close the house with the comenr .of the local ordin.ary, that is, the bishop of the.diocese in which, the house to 272 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS be closed is located. If' the bishop does not igiv.e his consent, the house cannot b~ closed by the su15erior general, o But the perrnissibn of the bishop of the diocese in which the motherhouse is located is not required to close a house in another diocese. (3) The house belongs to a diocesan congregation. The local ordinary alone can close it after consultation with the superior general of the congregation. The superior 'general cannot close the house: odly the bishop can do so. He must consult the superior general, but he does not need the consent o~ the latter. However, if the superior general thinks the house should not be closed, he may appeal to the Holy See against the decree of the bishop. Until the Holy See decides the case the decree remains sus-pended. ~ ~ m39~ On page 306 of the September, 1944, issue of t.he Review, you have an' article on rosaries made of string. We are eager to learn if anyone use these rosaries and gain the indulgences, or is their use restricted to those who are in the armed forc'es? May~ the rosary indulgences be gained by using the rosary plaques which have a kind of notched bead effect forming a decade around the plaque? These have been advertised in some Catholic reviews. ~ From the fact that this extraordinary privilege of blessing rosaries made of string was granted only to chaplains of the British and Allied Forces for the duration of the war, provided they already enjoyed the privilege of blessing and,indulgencing rosaries, it wo.uld seem to follow that the use of such.rosaries is confined to members of the armed forces. It is very doubtful whether others may use them and gain the indulgences ;ittached. In order that it may be blessed and enriched with indulgences,'a ¯ rosary must be made in the form prescribed.by the Church, that is, it must consist of five, ten, or fifteen, decades. The Sacred Congrega-tion of Indulgences explicitly declared on January 20, 1836, that gold or silver rings upon which ten beads had been embossed could not be blessed with the indulgences of the rosary. Such devices as ¯ rings and plaques may be a help for counting Parers and Ayes, but one would not gain the indulgences attached to the recitation of the beads by using them Is a religious institute justified in refusing perpetual vows to a religious who from the first year of her temporai'y profession began' fo manifest' .273 QUESTIbNS AND ANSWERS Review [or Religioug sym.ptoms of a psychosis (dementia praecox h/pc)?' The doctor s!ncerely believes that the cause and perhaps some minor symptoms may have been present heft;re her first'profession (unknown to the relkjious herself). The doctor also recommends that the individual return to the world because she will have a better chance of maklncj' a normal adjustment outside the environs of the cloister. The answer to this case is contained in canon 637: '"Those who have ,made profession of temporary vows may, when the term of the vows has expired, freely leave the institute: likewi'se, the institute, for just and reasonable motives, cab excltid~ the rehglous from renewin~ the temporary vows o_r~from~,making profession of perpetual~vows, nbt however because-bf ili health unless it be clearly proved that the religious, before profession, had fraudulently hidden or dissimulated the.illness." The institute, therefore; may not refuse perpet.ual vows to the religious in question if she did not fraudulently conceal her illness. The religious, however, is free to leave at~th.e expiration of her tem-porary vows, and a dispensation would readily be g'ranted by the proper a.uthority before the temporary vows have expired. It would be advisable, therefore, to have the doctor inform the Sister frankly of her condition and of the prospect of recovery outside the cloister, and to have him suggest to her that she should ask for a dispensation from her temporary vows, or at least leave of her own accord at the expiration of her temporary vows. If the Sister insists on staying, however, the institute may not send h~r away but must allow her to take perpetual vows if she is mdnt~lly capable of doing so. With reference to those who may be incapable of pronouncing final vows, it may be useful to introduce here two answers regarding the treatment and status of a religious who loses his mind during the period of tempbrary vows. The answers were given by the Sacred Congregation of Religious on Februars; 5, 1925, with the approval of His Holiness, Pius XI. "Whether one who is professed of the simple vows in an order or congregation, and who during the three years loses his mind, even incurably according, to the judgment of physicians, can at the end of three years be sent ,back to his relatives or into the world, or whether he must be kept in the religious institute?" The answer given: "In the negative'to the first part; in the af~rmative to the. second." To the further question: "What is the juridical condition of such 274 1945 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS a religious, and what are the obligations of the religious institute in the matter?" the reply was: "The' religious in question belongs to the religious institute in the state in which he was when he lost his mind. and the institute has th~ same obligations towards him that it,had at that time." ~41-- A certain mother superior of a concjreoafio~ in which temporary vows are taken for a year at a time for three: years preparatory to perpetual profess!on availed herself of the permission granted by canon 577, § 2 to "anticipate the renewal of temporary vows by one month. Thus, suppose the Sisters who made their first temporary profession on August IS, 1942, were permiHed to renew their vows for a year on July IS, 1943, and again on June IS, 1944, and final!y were'allowed to take their perpetual vows on June 15, 1945. Would such perpetual vows be valid? No, the perpetual vows .would not be valid because canon 572 requires that a period of three years x~ith temporary vows precede the profession of perpetual vows in order that it "may be valid. The Sis-ters in question had temporary" vows for only two years and ten months. Hence their perpetual vows were invalid. The mother superior misunderstood the permission granted in canon 577. This allows the renewal of temp,orary vows to be antici-pated ¯ by some days but not beyond one month. It does not take away any of the time required for temporary vows. When the Sis-ters took their first vows for a year, that year expired on the same recurring day one year later, August I15, 1943. Hence the vows which were renewed for another year on duly 15, "1943 did not begin to bind until'August 15, 1943, and did not ,expire until August 15, 1944. That this is the only meaning which canon 577 can have becomes evident if we read canon 34, § '3, 5° which tells us how time is to be computed in this case: "When there is question of acts to be renewed at stated times, for instance, a period of three years after temporary profession up to perpetual prof,ession, the'~ime ends on the same recurring day on which it began, but th~ new act may be placed. at any time on ~bat day." Hence perpettial profession may not be made until the same calendar day three years.after the first tempora(y profession ~was made. As w~ have seen above, this complete period of three .years is require.d bE canon 572 for the validit~l of the perpetual. professio.n. 275 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS --42-- Wh~t ;s the ob~J;ga~fion of the local superior wlth regard to conferences to be given to the community from time to time? How often should they be given? Must they be 9;yen by a priest? What is to be done if no priest ;s available? Canon 509 prescribes that "the local superiors shall take care . . . to have given at least twice a month . especially in lay institutes, a pious exhortation to all the members of the house." This exhortation is something.different from the catechetical instruction pre.scribed by the same canon for lay Brothers ahd l~ay Sisters (that separate class of religious devoted-to domestic duties), The purpose of the exhorta-tion is not principally to instruct but to renew the religious spirit and to urge the members of the commu.nity to even greater efforts in the observance of religious discipline and in the acquirement of religious virtues. These exhortations should be given to the community twice a month. Several eminent authors are of the opinion that they need not be given during the summer vacation. The law says that Superiors shall take care. This is a milder form of precept than the ordinary must se'e to it. It requires serious diligence on the part of the superior to have these exhortations given tO the community twice a month. If after diligent care has been exerted' the exhortation, cannot be had, the law is not violated.~ The exhortation may be given by the superior himself or by some other religious of the community tirovided he is capable. In !ay con-gregations an effort should be made to have a priest give these exhor-tations, at least from time t6 time. In case a, priest Or a capable reli-gious cannot be had to give these exhortations, it is recommended that a conference be read in place of the exhortation. Within kecent ¯ years excellent conferences written especially for religious have been published by Fatherg Skelly, Muntsch, Gabriels, and others. They will serve as a substitute for the exhortation as far as subject matter is concerned. This substitute, however, cannot be strictly imposed, since a pious reading is not the juridical substitute for an exhortation. However, in practice, when nothing better can be had, such pious reading of a conference dealing with a subject relating directly to the religious life will.he.lp to attain the puypose of the law, namely, to stir up the religious spirit' and to renew religious observance. 276 ommunicatdons Aga~ns~ "Formalism" " Reverend Fathers: In your last issue a Priest Religious objected to a pointa Sister brought upin the question, "Is there not too much formalism in our life?" The Sister had a point that should make all superiors examine their own governing of their communities. Is adherence to any com-munity rule more important than charity to the laity? 'But that is only by the way. I'd like to answer in my own humble way some of the arguments he proposes in' answer to her question. He begins by saying that we religious are professional people and can't be expected to be on call twenty-four hours a day. Well, if we are professional people, what is our profession? Unless" the religious is in a cdntemplative order, i~n'.t it the saving of souls by persor/al dealings with them? Helping souls to heaven by teaching, preaching, administering the sacra'merits, leading souls closer to Christ by our own'example, especially charity--not only in spiritdal mat-ters but in mundane matters as ~well? We should thank God that the people trust us enough to come to us with their e~rery day troubles, andif these .things make ours a twenty-four-hou,r-a-day job, then that's what it should be. It will be a sorry day for us if they ever do lose this trust in us, and we are not helpingmatters by refusing to even see them. It would be pretty difficult to imagine Christ or the Bles-sed Virgin setting up office hours for those who wanted to talk to them. The story of Christ and the little children gives us some idea of what He would d6. The Priest Religious then goes on to say tha't religious orders would be wrecked over night if their members were at the mercy of every whim and caprice of undisciplined souls that want us to be serv-ants of the pe~ople whenever their impulse suggests. From what I understand of religious life, we're supposed to be servants of the people even when their impulse doesn't suggest it. And as to-the first part, if any order can be wrecked because people want advice, comfort, or even a "hand-out," from the individual members of.the order, it would probably be" for the" good of the Church if it were wrecked. 277 COMMUNICATIONS Reoiew for Rel!yiot~s I know of no such order; but if any exists, its foundations are cer-tainly very shallow--its members are not. at all Christ-like, and they don't give the correct picture of the "Love thy neighbor" policy that Christ preached and that they should practice. The Priest Religious' then goes on to say, "any priest or religious who i~ at the continual call of unreasonable people . endangers his health." That sou,nds as if the average priest or religious has a line of unreasonable people waiting to see him or her all day long. .I've worked' in a large city parish and no one of the five priests there, no matter how popular, ever had more than four different parties waiting for him. It might take him a couple of ho.urs to see them all, but isn't that our job? Not only God, but even the laity expect us to do more than say Mass, hear confessions, run sick calls, teach in the school, and conduct a couple of sodalities. Then too, the average caller at a rectory or convert( is not unreasonable. Certainly., there are.so.me. and we can't expect to be immune. But bnly one out of ten could be called truly unreasonable. The rest of the time isn't the priest or Sister the unreasonable one when he or she objects that the parlor call is taking them from something else? His letter then goes oh to say, "One means of taking care of this situation is to have an intelligent doorkeeper who can "judge when there is a real need." Heaven help us! Why not tell the house-kegper to call us only for sick calls. People usually come to see a priest, not a housekeeper. I've only been ordained nine years, but even I.can see t~e'spirit of anti-clericalism that is growing even among our own people. Much of this is our own fault." Too often we see or hear of a priest or religious who i~ so high-handed that he makes himself inaccessible to the people. That isn't exactly what Christ had in mind when He called us .to be "fishers of men." No, I'm afraid I can't agree with this Pries~ Religious. If we have people storming the doors of our rectories because they want to see the priest, good for us!! True, our health may be endangered by this overwork, but what greater way to become ill tha~by serving the people, reasonable or unreasonable, as Christ would waht us to? In conclusion, to the Sister wl~o asked, "Is there not too much formalism in our life?" I'd like to say, "There certainlyis, Sister, and not nearly enough charity." A Diocesan Priest 278 Jul[t, "19 4 ~ COMMUNICATIONS Delayed Vocations Reverend Fathers: I remember a few years ago a Catholic weekly began to tun a page ~ for the men in~ the.service. Soon the women in the service com-plained that nothing was done for them. Perhaps they will make the same complaint When they realize that' something big is beihg done for the men to keep alive the grace of a vocation to the religious and (or) priestly life, or to enkindle such a vocation. No doubt there are women in the service whom Christ will favor with the call to serve Him as Sisters; women Whom He will want tO continue their marvellous work of caring for the ~eedy and the sick and of educating children, but not without consecrating their lives to ¯ Him in religion as His Spous,.es. These women will bare bad training in rather rigid discipline: they will have learned that it is possible to live contentedly in a uniform that is not made of silks and satins; they will know what it mean~ to make sacrifices for others. It would certainly' be of great heip for them to follow the inspi-rations ot: grace if they would receive positive encouragement from the Sisterhoods, if they .knew they are really wanted. Sisterhoods that are interested in such vocations should let the women know that they are willing to accept them. My attention was called to the Little Flower Mission Circle, Inc. (321.E. 156tb St., New York 55, N. Y.) for the promotion of vocations to all religious communities. It publishe.s a quarterl3~ chlled Come, Folloto Me. Perhaps this could serve the purpose. Or, a bulletin similar to lntroibo could be printed. Centers might be designated where such candidates could meet, either in a schoolc or in the parish hall, or perhaps even in the convent parlor. Tber~ they could come in direct contact with the Sisters. It seems that' such a venture would be most pleasing to Christ and quite profitable to religious communities and to the Church. Religious Priest [EDITORS' NOTE: Upon "receipt of the preceding communication we wrote to the Editor of lmroibo and asked him to tell us something about this publication. We received the following answer--with permission to publish it if we wished.] Reverend Fathers: lntroibo is a mimeographed bulletin that has had three issues since 279 COMMUNICATIONS . Review [or Religlous January and will have five mbre each~year? It is sent to any service-man who writes to Introibo, 19 Eye St., N.W., Washington 1, D.C. It is meant for servicemen who plan to be diocesan priests, religious priests, or Brothers. It makes no difference.what diocese the men will belong t%,or what religious institute they intend to join. The bu